The Duke's Bed Warmer

Alina tried to break the awkward silence by making a small talk.

"How’s your shoulder?"

"Stiff." He cleared his throat. "The physician said..."

He trailed off because he had nothing to say. He made up that sentence to avoid talking about the it hands.

"What did the physician say?" she asked.

He frowned slightly.

"I don’t remember exactly..."

She understood. It wasn’t about the physician. It was about them and their hands, still joined together.

"The bruise," he said instead.

"What?"

His gaze had dropped to her wrist. She followed his eyes and saw a small, faint purple mark there. He had left it when he had pulled her out of the way of the crate. She hadn’t noticed it before.

"It’s nothing."

"It’s not nothing."

"It’s just a bruise. It’ll fade."

Instead of arguing, he kept staring at the mark his hand had left behind.

"I should have been careful."

"It’s fine. I didn’t even notice it until now."

Then slowly, she pulled her hand from his. The warmth left her hand immediately.

"I should go," she said.

He didn’t answer.

"I have to get up."

Still no answer.

"I really have to get up."

"Then get up," he said, at last.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

He got up at the same time and reached for a new shirt, removing the older one. He tried to put it on with his one hand but the shirt tangled around his injured shoulder. The more he tried to fix it, the worse it became. He looked frustrated.

"Do you want help?" Alina asked, still in the room.

"No."

She watched him struggle for another minute. The sleeve bunched around his elbow. He tried to pull it free but winced in pain.

"I’m helping you."

"I said no."

"I don’t care."

She crossed the room before he could stop her and took the shirt from him. She untangled it and held it open.

"Lift your other arm first."

He did. She slid the sleeve over his left arm, then carefully guided the shirt over his right shoulder, watching his face for any kind of pain.

His face stayed still, but his breath hitched when the shirt brushed his bruise.

"Sorry."

"Don’t be."

She pulled the shirt down, smoothing it.

"There," she said. "Done."

He didn’t thank her or say anything at all. He just stood there, looking at her like he didn’t know what to do in that moment or with her.

She walked to the door and stepped into the corridor. She kept walking because if she stopped, she would think, and if she thought, she would stay stuck in that moment longer than she should.

She was halfway to the garden when she heard someone shouting. Alina turned the corner and saw the scene unfold. Lady Pemberton was shouting at a servant in the hallway.

A young kitchen girl was on her knees, surrounded by shattered porcelain. Lady Pemberton stood over her, face red, holding a shard in her hand.

The girl was clutching her bleeding wrist. She had cut herself while trying to pick up the broken pieces.

"Do you have any idea what this tea set costs? It’s imported from the capital. You stupid, useless.."

"She is bleeding," Alina said as she walked to them.

Lady Pemberton turned and became more irritated.

"Miss Ashworth. How timely. Came to defend another servant? I suppose this is your specialty now."

"Step away from her."

"Excuse me?"

Alina moved past her and knelt beside the girl. She was shaking. Alina looked at her face and recognized her. She was Evelyn’s cousin, who was new in the castle.

"Let me see," Alina said.

The girl hesitated, then lowered her hand.

"I’m sorry, miss... I’m so sorry...it slipped... I didn’t..."

The cut was long but shallow. Alina tore a strip from her own underslip and pressed it firmly on the cut.

"Hold this tight," Alina said.

The girl held it.

Alina rose and turned back to Lady Pemberton, who still had the shard in her hand.

"Put that down,"

"I don’t take orders from..."

"Put it down," her voice rose.

The corridor seemed to freeze. Two guards at the end of the hall turned their heads, and a passing servant stopped. Lady Pemberton hesitated, then dropped the shard on the floor.

"You’ll regret this," she said coldly and walked away.

Alina knelt again.

"What’s your name?" She asked.

"Lily."

"Come with me to the kitchen. Evelyn will clean this properly. And if anyone treats you like this again, come to me. Understand?"

Lily nodded.

"Thank you, miss... I don’t..."

"Call me Alina."

She helped the girl up and led her to the kitchen. At the end of the corridor, Mr. Harrington was standing with one of the guards. He had seen everything.

"Miss Ashworth," he said as Alina passed by him.

"Yes?"

"I’ll have the floor cleaned."

"Thank you."

"And I’ll report this incident to His Grace."

"Please do," she replied and continued walking.

Later, after leaving Lily with Evelyn and finishing her stitching work in the garden, Alina webtuto the east wing.

The corridor, as usual, was empty. She stopped at the door, crouched, and knocked. After a minute, a paper slid under the door.

"You came back?"

"I said I would."

"Most people don’t keep promises to nobodies."

"I’m not most people."

"I get bored here. Tell me something funny. Please."

Alina thought for a moment. Then she wrote about the honeycake. How it was the most terrible thing she had ever tasted, and yet she ate it because Austin had made it.

The reply came quickly.

"He bakes?"

"Terribly. The kitchen staff should file a petition."

The other person laughed. From the sound, Alina could tell it was a woman. She was about to write another note when one slid back under the door again.

"My name is Cecily."

Alina froze, but her hands trembled.

Cecily?

A woman the world believed dead was now writing her name on paper and slipping it under a locked door to her.

She wrote back with trembling hands.

"How long have you been here?"

"Five years."

"Are you His Grace’s sister?"

She knew but she needed to be sure. It was difficult for her to process that all this time, she had been speaking to Austin’s sister...who was supposed to be dead.

"Yes!"