Caught in the Storm of a Duke's - Abby Ayles Page 0,1
who looked just like him.
She too had taken some of her father’s features. His green eyes and blond hair; but her hair fell in tumultuous waves, reaching her lower back.
Her nose was her mother’s, small, just perfect for her oval-shaped face. Her lips were small, too, and a natural crimson. It was a feature many women admired on her—and others envied.
Spine straight, shoulders square, and chin raised, she stood before him. Her skin was, in her mother’s words, “Like silk and milk mixed together. So beautiful, so smooth.”
That evening, she wore her day dress still; a simple coral-colored gown, caught beneath her breast by a satin ribbon, before flowing gently out to frame her hips and legs.
She was aware that her own looks had also been the source of some admiration within her limited social circle, although she was more prone to laugh and dismiss the idea as nonsense than ever let it go to her head.
Knowing she now had her father’s attention, Judith dipped into a curtsy and rose, gracefully.
“I apologize for interrupting, Father. I know you must be busy.”
Her father waved away her remark.
“This is the only record I have left to assess. You came at the right time.”
His words made her smile. Mentally, she commended herself: It was just as she had hoped.
“Tell me, what do you wish to discuss with me?” he asked, gesturing at one of the chairs.
She took a seat, while her father’s eyes remained on her, expectant.
Judith held his gaze, trying to recall the words she had repeated over and over to herself, preparing for this day.
As she groped for the first few words, she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came. She shook her head as her lips closed shut.
Her nerves were threatening to engulf her.
“Judith?”
“Yes, Father.”
“You said there was something of importance.”
“Yes, there was… There is.”
“Then by all means, tell me what it is.”
She searched his eyes and saw nothing but compassion. It reminded her that her father was a wonderful man, who had only ever loved her, and the thought calmed her a little.
This time, when she spoke, the words came easily.
“Father, I have an enormous request to make.”
His brow raised, and he relaxed back into in his chair.
“I hope I will not have to ask you again what it is. Come on now, get on with it.”
Heart hammering in her chest, she blurted, “Father, I wish to go to the North of England to spend some time with Aunty Tia. I know you will be inclined to refuse, but Father, you must let me go.”
“And why is that?” he asked, his voice betraying surprise.
“Because I must. I must leave this house. I have been here my whole life. I want to go out there and—” She gestured widely with her arm toward the world beyond the windows. “I want to see the world! You, Mother, Edward, and Theresa … you have all had your adventures, seen amazing things, and have stories to tell. Edward is a scholar, Mother is an art genius, and Theresa’s voice causes the whole of England, the whole world, to simply stand still and listen when she sings. And you, Father? You are the best businessman in England and beyond.”
She stopped to catch her breath, pausing to remind herself to remain calm, lest her voice rise unbecomingly.
“Don’t you see, Father? Everyone has something. Everyone is someone. I am simply the last child of Baron Davenforth. Perhaps, if I were allowed freedom to roam, I, too, would discover myself ... find something inside me to make me someone other than who I presently am. I truly want this, Father. You would not deny it to me, would you?”
Her voice cracked as she said those last words, and she felt her eyes sting with the promise of tears. Desperately, she blinked, pushing them away.
She had not come here to grovel or cry. It would not do to get overly emotional with her father.
“Judith…” her father said after a while, his voice laced with emotion; emotion she could not quite decipher. “I had no inkling you felt this way. I always thought you were happy …content … I made certain you lacked nothing. Not even affection.”
“On that part, you are right, Father, and I shall always be grateful to you and Mother for raising me so well. However, I am afraid it’s not enough. I want more for myself.”
Her father released a sigh—one tinged with resignation: It gave Judith hope.