CHAPTER 27: CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

The sting of Marissa’s final, whispered words left Ashlyn frozen, the triumphant joy of the moment turned to tasteless ash in her mouth. She watched her sister walk away and a cold, familiar resentment began to churn in her gut.

Marissa returned to her seat beside Ryan, the picture of serene composure. She took up her fan, fluttering it with a slow, languid rhythm as if nothing had happened. When everyone was once again seated in the drawing room, a tense and awkward silence having fallen over the family, Marissa spoke.

"Father," she began, her voice calm and clear, addressing Lord Malone directly. "His Grace, the Grand Duke, had official business today which he could not neglect. Though he was unable to accompany me home personally, he did send along a few small homecoming gifts to show his respect."

She turned her head slightly. "Lily."

Lily, who had been standing discreetly by the wall, nodded and clapped her hands twice. On cue, the main doors of the drawing room opened, and three maids from the Thompson household staff entered, each carrying a large, exquisitely wrapped parcel.

The effect was instantaneous. If Carlos’s gifts had been impressive, these were on an entirely different scale. The maids placed them on a central table, and the maid in the middle began to announce them.

"Lord Malone, Lady Anita," the maid in the center said with a deep bow, her voice formal. "His Grace has specially prepared these humble offerings. Three bolts of Cloud Silk from the far east, dyed in the colors of twilight. A chest of perfectly matched rubies from the southern mines. And a fan, carved from a single piece of flawless white lace, for the new Grand Duchess’s mother."

As she spoke, the other two maids unwrapped the gifts, revealing their splendor. The silks shimmered under the light, seeming to change color with every movement. The rubies glittered with a deep, fiery light, each one the size of a robin’s egg.

Malone and Anita’s eyes widened, their earlier displeasure completely forgotten in the face of such overwhelming wealth.

Malone practically scrambled from his chair, his hands reaching out to touch the impossibly soft silk. "Incredible quality," he breathed, his voice filled with awe.

"Extremely rare. I haven’t seen the like in twenty years." He moved from one gift to the next, his hands hovering over them as if they were holy relics. "His Grace is very, very thoughtful."

But as the spectacle unfolded, Carlos was not looking at the gifts. His gaze was fixed on one of the maids—the one standing to the left. She was a pretty woman, with dark, soulful eyes. He recognized her instantly. A wave of cold dread washed over him. He felt his posture stiffen, a sudden unease making his collar feel tight. The maid, sensing his stare, stole a quick, nervous glance in his direction before looking away, a faint blush rising on her cheeks.

Marissa, from her seat, missed none of it. She saw Carlos’s rigid posture. She saw the maid’s stolen glance. She saw the silent, illicit thread of connection that passed between them in that single, charged moment. A slow, knowing smile touched her lips as she hid her face behind her fan.

The lead maid bowed again. "Please, accept these gifts with His Grace’s sincerest regards." Once Lord Malone had given his effusive thanks and the gifts were safely stowed away by the Austen servants, the three Thompson maids curtsied and left the drawing room.

Carlos watched the one he recognized disappear through the door, his heart hammering in his chest. He needed to get out. He needed to find out what she was doing here. After a few more seconds of forced, polite conversation, he rose to his feet.

"If you will all excuse me," he said, his voice a little too tight, "I find I am in need of some fresh air." Before anyone could protest, he gave a short bow and strode from the room.

He didn’t stop in the foyer. He moved quickly through the manor, his steps urgent, his mind racing. He went out a side door, into the back of the manor, his path leading him towards the quiet seclusion of the sprawling gardens. He found her there, standing near a rosebush, looking anxiously back towards the house.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice a harsh, angry whisper.

She spun around, her face lighting up with a mixture of joy and relief. "Carlos!" she cried, rushing forward and throwing her arms around him in a tight, desperate hug.

He broke the embrace immediately, his hands gripping her shoulders as he checked his surroundings, his eyes darting nervously towards the windows of the manor. He pulled her behind a tall, thick hedge, into a secluded spot hidden from view.

"Lina, who told you to come here?" he asked again, his voice filled with a panicked frustration.

"No one," she replied, her dark eyes filled with a lovesick desperation. "Carlos, I haven’t seen you in days. Not since the wedding was announced. I really missed you so much. When I heard the Grand Duchess needed extra maids for the homecoming trip, I volunteered. I had to see you." She hugged him again, pressing her body against his. "I don’t want to suffer from longing for you anymore, Carlos. It hurts too much."

He pushed her away gently, holding her at arm’s length. His heart was a chaotic mix of anger, fear, and a treacherous, unwanted flicker of his old affection. "This is madness," he said. "You must be good now, Lina. Go back with the others. Go home. I will come and see you tonight, I promise."

Her face fell, her joy crumbling into a look of deep, familiar sadness. "Are you trying to trick me again?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Putting me off with promises you won’t keep? Or is it because of your new wife? The rich, noble lady?"

Before he could answer, she moved, closing the space between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her body molding against his. "Does she make you feel the way I do?" she whispered, her warm breath ghosting across his ear. She teased the lobe with her teeth, a gesture she knew drove him wild. "Does she care for your needs, your real needs, like I do?"

Her lips found the sensitive skin on the crook of his neck, her kisses soft and searching. A shudder ran through him.

"Wait," he said, his voice weak and breathless. He tried to push her away, but his hands had no strength. "Lina, stop... This is the Austen residence. We will be discovered."

"They are all inside," she whispered against his skin. "They are admiring their new treasures. They won’t notice us."

He pushed her back slightly, trying to calm the fire she had so expertly ignited in his blood. He needed to think, to be the honorable man he was trying to be.

She saw his struggle, and she smirked, a knowing, confident expression on her face. She knew this battle better than he did. With a slow movement, she let the collar of her simple maid’s uniform slip, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her collarbone. She leaned forward just enough to give him a tantalizing glimpse of the soft cleavage beneath.

It was his undoing. The last of his resolve crumbled. A low groan escaped him, and his anger melted away, consumed by a raw, overwhelming desire. A slow, lustful smile spread across his lips.

"You little vixen," he growled, his voice thick. He pulled her back into his arms, his grip now hard and possessive. "Watch how I’m going to deal with you."