Chapter 2 - Footsteps in the Linen Wing
The heavy knock on the linen room door was not the tentative rap of a fellow servant, but the firm, commanding strike of a man accustomed to doors opening instantly at his will. I did not move from where I stood beside the folding tables, my hands resting flat against the crisp linen stacks.
"Open the door," his voice came through the thick oak, low and controlled, yet thrumming with an intensity that brooked no refusal.
I turned the brass deadbolt slowly, pulling the door open just enough to block the narrow gap. He stood under the flickering fluorescent bulb of the basement corridor, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled to his forearms, revealing taut muscles and skin pale under the harsh light. Dark hair fell slightly across his forehead, and the stark redness around his eyes betrayed the tears he had barely managed to hold back in front of the ballroom crowd.
"You left before I could finish my question," he said, his voice dropping into a register meant only for my ears.
"I am a maid, sir," I replied, keeping my gaze lowered to the third button of his shirt in strict adherence to household hierarchy. "My place during a disturbance is in the service wing."
"A maid doesn't know my son's lullaby," he retorted, stepping closer until the clean scent of cedarwood and expensive scotch filled the small space. "And a maid doesn't unlock a voice that hasn't made a single sound since his mother walked out of this house four years ago."
"He was frightened by the crowd," I murmured, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to steady it. "I only tried to calm him."
"Look at me." It was an order, quiet and absolute.
May you like
Slowly, I raised my chin. Up close, the lines around his eyes were deeper than they appeared from a distance—the permanent etchings of a man who carried an empire on his shoulders and a silent child in his arms. He reached out, his fingers stopping mere fractions of an inch from the silver locket resting against my apron.
"Who are you?" he asked again, the question carrying the weight of a man demanding his entire world back from the brink.
