The west wing was forbidden. Everyone in the house whispered it. Servants never stepped past the arched doorway at the end of the main hall. Doors stayed locked. Curtains drawn. It was said the Duke had rooms there meant for things no governess should ever see.
She should have stayed away.
But that night, after the lesson in the study, after the way his fingers had left her trembling, her feet carried her toward that wing like they no longer belonged to her. The corridor was long and silent. The candles were dimmer here, their flames flickering as though the air itself feared him.
She stepped carefully, her nightgown brushing against her legs, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
And then she felt it.
The air changed. Warm, heavy, thick with something that felt like him.
“You shouldn’t be
