The curfew returned. Her father was laid to rest days later. Nobody came around for the funeral.
Such deaths shouldn't assemble a gathering, they said.
It all went by fast. And, before Ember could blink, four weeks had gone by.
The curfew persisted even when the killings of the devil had seized. Ember's father's murder was its last since.
Still, the curfew remained. There was no room for assumption.
Ember had remained glued to her bed as she pondered on how her life had changed drastically in the last four weeks.
First, the Duke finally gave her attention.
Oh, the Duke.
How she had had a tear slip down her face each time she recalls that she might never get to see the Duke again.
Her other siblings who resided outside Belmont had called and immediately ordered that she move to Hadham, a town far away from Belmont.
She had no choice but to adhere to their order because there was nothing left for her again.
Well, except the Duke.
Fate just had to happen the second the Duke finally took interest in her.
She had gathered her things together as requested of her and sent her maid off with her paycheck from her father's savings. So, when a mail came for her, she had to get it herself, unlike when she always had her maid collect it in her place.
The mail was packaged in an elegant, grand envelope. Something only a royal family would use.
Ember had a baffled expression as she tore the envelope open.
Her eyes did a little roaming before they landed on the sender, who had her choking on her gasp.
….Yours truly, Duke Of Belmont.
Ember immediately scrambled for a seat to read the letter with parted lips.
It read:
Dear Ember Hall,
I'm writing to you in an invitation to be my esteemed guest in my humble abode. I would much love to express my condolence over a cup of tea.
It would be my greatest pleasure to have you in my home. What do you say?
Yours truly, Duke of Belmont.
Ember blinked, swallowed, read the letter again, and repeated in the same order. And, on her third repeat, she jerked to her feet and ran for her bedroom to get changed.
Her last moment in Belmont spent with the Duke was all she ever wanted.
She wanted to remember his sweet baritone and replay how they sounded gloriously in her head by the time she was out of Belmont.
She wanted his dimple smile ingrained in her head in clear quality.
She wanted to remember his touch and how they made her weak to her knees.
At least, she'd hoped he would touch her.
She ordered a ride because her father's coachmen were also dismissed, and their carriages were placed on sale.
The coachman didn't take the shorter route, so she had spent most of her journey to the Duke's house staring at his beautiful, sparkling handwriting.
One's soul mirrors what they put down in papers indeed.
She had hardly even met with the Duke, and she already knew he had the purest soul.
Even people who aren't residents of Belmont would agree.
Ember immediately shoved the paper aside as soon as the carriage crawled to a stop before the Duke's mansion.
She got off, adjusting her mint green Victorian dress.
She wasn't with her Cape.
A woman, a little over mid-fifties, had received her at the foot of the short flight of stairs that led to the main entrance of the massive mansion.
She was in a uniform of navy blue and scarlet red. And, she had a huge frown planted on her face as she led Ember in.
Ember had extended a greeting, but the woman had intentionally dismissed it.
Maybe she shouldn't be ahead of herself just yet.
The Duke only requested her to his abode, he didn't ask her to marry him.
The saucy lady takes Ember through another flight of stairs, more massive and astounding, snaked to the second floor.
She leads Ember to the end of the first floor and stops before a massive double door.
"The Duke is waiting to receive you."
She announced and swirled around, skipping off the stairs back to the ground floor.
Ember's sweaty palm grabbed the door handle and twisted it open. She is introduced to an extremely elegant bedroom.
With a breathtaking interior, hovering walls made of creamy timber and pillars made of exquisite stones, a massive king-sized bed with plush cushions, and a four single-seater set with a center table, the bedroom was just like its owner - blinding and heavenly.
She walked in, unsure of where she was to sit.
Well, certainly not the bed.
Immediately, she found a comfortable sitting position on one of the single-seater seats close to the king-sized bed. The door opened, and the Duke, in all his glory, grazed the bedroom.
Ember jerks up instantly, bowing in respect.
Oh, he smelled so nice.
"Your Grace."
Abruptly, the Duke takes her hand and plants a gentle kiss on it.
Ember shivered. His hand felt so rough and hard against hers.
"Thank you for honoring my invitation. Please, sit. I'd have the cook prepare something for you."
Duke Dallas hurried out of the room as Ember settled back into her previous position.
She caressed the spot the Duke had placed a kiss on, still feeling the imprint of his cold lips.
The Duke returned with the cook, who happened to be the saucy woman that had escorted her earlier.
She settled two cups of tea before them.
"What would you like? We have varieties."
The Duke inquired, sitting across from her.
"Anything. I'm okay with anything."
Ember pressed her palm, avoiding the Duke's gaze.
Can he stop staring at her like he wants to eat her?
"Are you sure? You don't have allergies?"
Right!
"Yeah. I react to anything peanut."
The woman nods and swirls around to prepare the order, locking the door behind her with a click.
Ember stares at the locked door nervously.
She was alone with the Duke.
"How are you faring? I only heard about the demise of your father a few days ago. I'm sorry my condolences are coming this late."
"Thank you, Your Grace. It is to my delight that you had me invited to your abode. My father would have been so honored to—"
Ember paused when she noticed the Duke staring at her with an amused grin.
"Actually, Miss Ember, I mostly invited you here to have a chat."
Ember swallowed.
"I want to get to know you more. If that's okay."
Ember quickly nods.
"Of course, it is. I'm honored, Your Grace."
"Also, I'd like you to drop the honorifics. You can call me Brooklyn."
Ember froze.
What? He wants her to address him by his middle name.
"Uhm, Your Grace, I don't think that's proper. You are the Duke, and I'm an ordinary subject, I wouldn't dare address you in such a manner—"
"I fancy you."
The Duke interrupted, shockingly so.
Ember parted her lips in astonishment, her world going blank.
The Duke liked her.