Page 39 of Enslaved to the Seduction of a Lady
Chapter Fifteen
“Are you ready?” Teresa asked.
“Not really,” Alison admitted, her voice croaking with worry.
They were in the smaller of Alison’s chambers, in which there was a pale-pink reading couch with ornate wooden feet and a cylindrical cushion at each end. There was a small bookcase with a selection of books she had pilfered from the library and some trinkets, a fireplace for the winter months, and a desk at which she could write her correspondence.
It was a pleasant little room, if a tad bland, but it gave Alison somewhere warm and cozy to hide herself away from the world. Rain pattered lightly on the window, the summer shower having started abruptly and without warning. Alison watched the water running down the glass while her sister watched her.
“All right,” Teresa said softly. “Take a deep breath. Everything will work out for the best. Mother and Father want the best for you—and that includes your happiness.”
“Do you really think they will be open to the idea of my marrying Luke?” She turned and looked Teresa in the eye, the creases in her brow deepening with her concern.
“I…” Teresa trailed off and looked away for a brief moment, before seeming to come to a decision and looking back. “I admit it may take a little persuasion, but I honestly believe that we will succeed in our endeavor.”
“All right,” Alison said, nodding as much as to persuade herself to agree as anything else. “Let’s do it.”
They made their way down the stairs and into the marbled entrance hall. It was a grand area—made all the more impressive because the Duke knew the importance of first impressions. The stairs, carpeted in deep, blood red, swept around in a curve, the steps getting wider as they got closer to the floor. The bannister had been painted gold and it sparkled with wealth and power.
The hall itself was open and spacious, having little in the way of furniture or décor. Footsteps echoed across it, and many doors led from it, but the hall itself existed purely for its grandeur and its statement. Behind the stairs lay the entrances to the servants’ quarters, the kitchen and pantry, the butler’s room and pantry, and all things to do with running the household. Opposite the stairs, there were four doors: one for the breakfast room, one for the dining room, one for the drawing room, and one for the Duke’s study.
They walked slowly across the wide expanse, huddled together and talking quietly.
“Really, Alison, I know it’s nerve wracking, but we’ll find a way.”
“I know,” Alison replied, whispering her words close to Teresa’s ear. “It’s just, I’ve waited so long for this and I’m sure it would kill me if it all goes wrong now.”
“I understand,” Teresa whispered back. “But I’m behind you, and you are strong enough to fight for what you want. I’ve seen that spirit in you before.”
“You’re right,” Alison said, this time with a decisive nod and she marched straight to the drawing room door and twisted the handle.
It was the middle of the afternoon and their parents would be taking tea in the drawing room, as was their habit.
“Ah, my two lovely daughters,” the Duke said as they entered. He was leaning heavily back in his chair, his fingers clasped together over his stretched waistcoat.
“Good afternoon both,” the Duchess said, looking up and smiling. She perched on the edge of her seat, eagerly supervising the maid’s tea pouring skills and nodding her approval.
“Good afternoon,” Alison said. “Would you mind if we joined you? I have something I wish to discuss with you.”
“And those jam tarts are simply crying out to be eaten, and I should love to help them meet their destiny,” Teresa said, chuckling.
“Of course, Girls,” the Duchess said. “You know you arealwayswelcome to join us, no matter what.”
She waved them over, her colorful gemstone bracelets rattling as she did so.
“They do indeed look like very nice jam tarts,” Alison said, eyeing them but buying herself time. The strawberry jam shone in the light and the pastry looked crumbly.
“Yes, but we’re not here to talk tarts, are we, Alison?” Teresa said, looking at her with such wide-eyed intent that Alison shook all thoughts of jam tarts from her mind.
The maid poured them both a cup of tea.
“No, we’re not. I wish to talk to you both about something,” she said, her heart racing. Her breath quivered as she released it.
“Well, before you start,” her mother said, looking over with an excited grin. “Your father and I have some news for you, also!”
“Really?” Teresa asked, holding her teacup up to her lips, about to take a sip.
“What news?” Alison asked, looking quickly from her mother to her father and back again. A sense of dread descended over her, despite her mother’s happy smile and her father’s look of satisfaction.
