An Encounter with the Duke

~Penny~

On the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I set out to Mountbatten with a heavy heart and a mind full of uncertainties and fears. The train chugged towards my hometown for about six hours now, but I couldn't sleep a wink. An edgy, frantic energy filled my mind all week.

Spying. The very word made my stomach churn. There were so many lies involved, so much at stake if I failed.

Lawrence Campbell had mentioned that the nursemaid who had failed him before was dead. He didn't care to elaborate if he killed her or the Duke had her executed. Every position of work at the Duke's castle involved stringent background checks, and yet, Lawrence somehow created some fake records for me to show that I had lived in Mountbatten all my life. He even went to the extent of writing letters to the housekeeper and butler on my behalf, fabricating lies upon lies.

His grand plan, it seemed, was for me to waltz right up to the Duke himself. But the best he could manage was a dressmaker position for the kitchen staff. I was partly relieved because I had no nursemaid skills. I had a knack for a needle and thread. This, at least, felt like familiar ground amidst the swirling chaos.

My mother used to sew uniforms for factory and railroad workers for years before moving on to mending dresses for the ladies married to the shipping magnates, fur traders, and major players in steamship and railroad empires, all elite and upper-crust society with extravagant lifestyles. The extra pieces of fabric from rich silks and satins she saved to sew a few cute little dresses for me.

A great many childhood memories came flashing back as the buggy clopped swiftly through the town with me and my luggage. Unlike the sweltering summers and endless sunshine of the Campbell kingdom, Mountbatten boasted four distinct seasons, each a vibrant tapestry woven across the landscape.

Today, it was Fall's turn to paint the scene. Rich reds and oranges blazed on the mountainsides, a fiery counterpoint to the meandering blue river. It was a sight that snatched me back years, a memory tucked away in the folds of my childhood.

Back then, every autumn meant a trip to Hope Valley with my family. Apple picking, crisp air, and laughter were the hallmarks of those excursions. My father even promised to take us to the ice caves and a scenic lake atop a mountain in winter. But winter never came. We went to the United States that summer instead, to succumb to the fateful train wreckage.     

 "Down this way, Miss?" The carriage driver's voice jolted me back to the present. We came to a halt at the crossroads, with a gravel path leading towards my Aunt Molly's cottage. Lawrence Campbell wanted me to stay there when not working at the Duke's castle.

My fingers tightened on the worn fabric of my suitcase. Instructions from Lawrence were quite clear and strict: Meet Aunt Molly today and report tomorrow for the dressmaking position at the Duke's castle. Yet, an inexplicable urge tugged at me. "Um, no," I blurted, surprising even myself. "Take me to the castle first."

Aunt Molly was my mom's older sister. Her cries were still so fresh and etched in my mind from when I was still processing the loss of my parents. She wanted to take me and my brother in but my uncle took us away. I wish she fought for us harder.

The buggy made its way up to the castle perched on the hilltop. A fairy tale stone castle with turrets and gargoyles, surrounded by majestic mountains and overlooking the town. I forgot the name of the big beautiful river that ran around it. In early winters, a billow of rising fog from the cold waters covered the castle and the surrounding trees, lending a mysterious aura to it.

The castle's tall, wide windows and square towers were the last thing I could see from the train window when my uncle came to take my brother and me away. A queasy feeling set in my stomach today as the castle loomed closer and closer with every gallop of the horses driving the carriage. The wind went wild with the falling, fluttering leaves, blowing them away everywhere on the cobblestone roads.    

I stepped off the carriage once it came to a halt in front of the heavily fortified wrought iron gates.

"Twenty-eight pence." The coachman mentioned the fare as he helped me with my two bags.

Where was my purse? Did I not have it with me when I got off the train?

"Miss?"

I frantically looked through my suitcase, hoping to find some money, at least enough to pay the coachman. 

"Please, give me a moment."

My god, did I really lose my purse? It had every bit of money I had made over the years. My eyes welled up with tears, and I started to panic.

"M-my aunt... my aunt lives a few miles away from here. I promise she will---"

"Tsk tsk, you should have told me what a poor wretch you are." He said, slamming the carriage door so loudly that it made me whimper in fear. Grabbing my suitcase and throwing it back into the carriage, he grasped my arm.

"Sir, I swear. My aunt---"

"Do I look stupid to waste any more time riding around the town for you? Get in."

"What? Where are we going then?"

"I said, GET IN. You pathetic low life!" His snarling face made my intuitions scream.

I struggled to release my arm from his grip, feeling terrified that he was going to sell me off to some brothel. The clinking of the huge gates behind startled both of us. Relief washed over me momentarily as a sleek black carriage with opaque windows emerged. This fancy carriage didn't look like my ramshackle transport but something far more elegant, a whisper of wealth and power.

I rushed forward, babbling so fast that my words made little sense even to me. The carriage came to an abrupt stop, and the door creaked open, revealing a valet who recoiled at my disheveled state. Before I could stammer an apology, a figure emerged, sending a jolt of unexplainable heat through my body.

His raw, masculine allure stole the air from my chest as his stormy gray eyes met mine. My traitorous body hummed with a response I couldn't decipher, a cocktail of heat and unease churning in my gut. It was a primal attraction, tinged with a fear that sent my heart hammering. He made me nervous like I had never been before.

Looking straight past me, he asked his coachman what the issue was. As they discussed my 'damsel in distress' situation, I forced myself to look away, feeling defeated. He reached into his impeccably tailored dark herringbone wool coat and withdrew a wad of cash, far exceeding the fare. 

My hand trembled as I extended it to reach for the money, while my heart wouldn't stop beating like a drum.

"Thank you so much, Sir! I will be sure to return--"     

"Your Grace." He corrected me.

"Huh?"

"Have you been living under a rock?"

The Duke?

As his carriage whizzed past me, blood flooded my cheeks as the realization dawned. In my dazed stupor, I had managed to miss the most crucial detail. He was handsome, yes, far more captivating than the simpering Campbell princes. He didn't need the ostentatious gold armor of fairytales; he carried himself with an air of quiet power. 

And me? I had come across as a witless country bumpkin, clueless about both social etiquette and the very man I was supposed to…seduce? He would, of course, remember me as the dumb, broke damsel.  

Bravo, Penny! I botched this 'Seduce the Duke' task already.