Read Online Chained: Reckless Desires (Dragon's Heart Book 1) by Jacqueline Sweet - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jacqueline Sweet
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said, keeping her voice neutral. She could have run. She wanted to run.
“Oh it’s not me, my girl, who wants to see you. It’s the Lord Winterborn himself. He asked me early in the morning how you were getting on as a maid and, well, I’m sorry girl, but I had not had my cup of coffee yet, you see.”
Bella felt all the color drain from her face. “What did you say?”
“I told him the truth: you’re a lousy maid. You work much too slow. You daydream. You spend too much time gabbing with Chloe or flirting with Rodney and require constant supervision. If we had a full staff, I daresay you would’ve been out on your ear on day one.” Agatha sighed, her blonde curls bouncing with the motion. “Don’t take it so hard, dear. This is a hard life we’ve chosen and it’s not for everyone. There’s no shame in trying a path and finding it too rocky and overgrown for your feet.”
“Am I fired?” Bella asked, her voice almost a croak. She wouldn’t tell her dad. She’d gather her things and catch a ride with Chloe. Maybe she could find work in Bearfield?
“That’s for Winterborn to decide. He’s asked to see you first thing. Please go upstairs and don’t dillydally. You know how much he dislikes tardiness.” Agatha’s voice was kind and her eyes shone with sympathy, but she may as well have said, “Go jump into the lion’s mouth, dearie, and hurry up. He gets hungry in the mornings.”
Bella left the woman’s office and stood frozen in the hall. He couldn’t make her come to him. She could have left right then, taken her things and walked down off the mountain. She didn’t have to subject herself to his abuse. But what about her father? If she vanished without a word, Winterborn would take it out on Franklin. And her father might have been a cold, stubborn man, but he didn’t deserve to have his life ruined, too. Bella had ruined enough lives lately.
She composed herself, smoothing her itchy maid’s uniform down as best she could, and walked through the lower quarters to the foyer and then up the grand stairs. The house changed as she rose. More light spilled through the windows. The walls were brighter, with fewer glowering family portraits. Did they keep all the scary pictures down with the servants to frighten them into working faster? The ornamentation also grew more elaborate, with bronze dragon heads forming the tops of the bannisters and the detail work on the doors growing more elaborate. If downstairs seemed expansive and wealthy, then upstairs was opulent enough to shame a king.
Bella paused at the large door that led to Winterborn’s private drawing room. Before she could knock, his voice said, “Come in.” At least he sounded like her was in reasonable moon. Her knees shook at the sound. Her nightmares came back to her, the sight of him as a grotesque monstrosity, devouring servant after servant with his mangled mouth. He couldn’t be that bad, right? Sure, he pummeled attorneys, but who didn’t from time to time? Yes, he scared old witchy ladies so bad they nearly left their shoes behind, but didn’t old ladies scare easily?
She opened the door and entered, eyes downcast. Better to get it over with. Rip the bandage off all at once. Take her medicine. All that.
“Miss Agatha says you’re a very poor maid,” he said. “Possibly the worst she’s seen.” Winterborn’s voice was calm, almost wry. Was he smiling? Bella risked a glance up. The drawing room wasn’t as large as she’d imagined. Winterborn had hauled furniture in from elsewhere and turned it into a sort of office, while pushing the existing furniture—including a grand piano—off to one side. The effect was odd, like it was a movie set, with half the room a cluttered mess of cozy chairs and table and bookshelves, all shoved against a fireplace, and the other half a tidy corporate office with a laptop that seemed out of place in the turn-of-the-century decor.
Lamps shone from behind Winterborn, hiding him in
“Oh it’s not me, my girl, who wants to see you. It’s the Lord Winterborn himself. He asked me early in the morning how you were getting on as a maid and, well, I’m sorry girl, but I had not had my cup of coffee yet, you see.”
Bella felt all the color drain from her face. “What did you say?”
“I told him the truth: you’re a lousy maid. You work much too slow. You daydream. You spend too much time gabbing with Chloe or flirting with Rodney and require constant supervision. If we had a full staff, I daresay you would’ve been out on your ear on day one.” Agatha sighed, her blonde curls bouncing with the motion. “Don’t take it so hard, dear. This is a hard life we’ve chosen and it’s not for everyone. There’s no shame in trying a path and finding it too rocky and overgrown for your feet.”
“Am I fired?” Bella asked, her voice almost a croak. She wouldn’t tell her dad. She’d gather her things and catch a ride with Chloe. Maybe she could find work in Bearfield?
“That’s for Winterborn to decide. He’s asked to see you first thing. Please go upstairs and don’t dillydally. You know how much he dislikes tardiness.” Agatha’s voice was kind and her eyes shone with sympathy, but she may as well have said, “Go jump into the lion’s mouth, dearie, and hurry up. He gets hungry in the mornings.”
Bella left the woman’s office and stood frozen in the hall. He couldn’t make her come to him. She could have left right then, taken her things and walked down off the mountain. She didn’t have to subject herself to his abuse. But what about her father? If she vanished without a word, Winterborn would take it out on Franklin. And her father might have been a cold, stubborn man, but he didn’t deserve to have his life ruined, too. Bella had ruined enough lives lately.
She composed herself, smoothing her itchy maid’s uniform down as best she could, and walked through the lower quarters to the foyer and then up the grand stairs. The house changed as she rose. More light spilled through the windows. The walls were brighter, with fewer glowering family portraits. Did they keep all the scary pictures down with the servants to frighten them into working faster? The ornamentation also grew more elaborate, with bronze dragon heads forming the tops of the bannisters and the detail work on the doors growing more elaborate. If downstairs seemed expansive and wealthy, then upstairs was opulent enough to shame a king.
Bella paused at the large door that led to Winterborn’s private drawing room. Before she could knock, his voice said, “Come in.” At least he sounded like her was in reasonable moon. Her knees shook at the sound. Her nightmares came back to her, the sight of him as a grotesque monstrosity, devouring servant after servant with his mangled mouth. He couldn’t be that bad, right? Sure, he pummeled attorneys, but who didn’t from time to time? Yes, he scared old witchy ladies so bad they nearly left their shoes behind, but didn’t old ladies scare easily?
She opened the door and entered, eyes downcast. Better to get it over with. Rip the bandage off all at once. Take her medicine. All that.
“Miss Agatha says you’re a very poor maid,” he said. “Possibly the worst she’s seen.” Winterborn’s voice was calm, almost wry. Was he smiling? Bella risked a glance up. The drawing room wasn’t as large as she’d imagined. Winterborn had hauled furniture in from elsewhere and turned it into a sort of office, while pushing the existing furniture—including a grand piano—off to one side. The effect was odd, like it was a movie set, with half the room a cluttered mess of cozy chairs and table and bookshelves, all shoved against a fireplace, and the other half a tidy corporate office with a laptop that seemed out of place in the turn-of-the-century decor.
Lamps shone from behind Winterborn, hiding him in
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