The Duchess' Mother Ch. 03

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

I awoke with a splitting headache in a bedroom bathed by soft candlelight. It took a moment to remember what brought me here, but when my fingers brushed beneath my nose and came away wet with fresh blood, I recalledexactlywhat had happened.

"Addie!" My mother appeared at the bedside, instantly reaching out to prod my cheeks. "Are you alright? What's your name, darling? Do you know what day it is? How many fingers am I--"

"Four," I mumbled, heaving myself up to lean against the headboard. I swatted her hands away. "I'm fine."

She reached for my face again. "Are you positive? Concussions can be--"

"I'm--shit.I-I'm fine, Mom. I'm okay. How long was I...?"

"Less than a minute. But you scared me half to death, young lady! We've got to tame those clumsy feet of yours before they rob me of a daughter."

I blinked until the world unblurred around me. We were in her bedroom. That meant we were in her bed--the very same bed in the scene now emblazoned in my memory. It felt the slightest bit damp.

"Here, let me just..." Mom trailed off as she took a wet rag from the bedside and dabbed my upper lip. I stiffened, pulled back. "Let me pretend to be a good mother, at least. This is my fault."

Each touch stung like a jolt of lightning, but the intoxicating scent still clinging to her fingers kept me sedated. I said, "It wasn't your fault, and youarea good mother."

She pursed her lips. Eventually, she cocked her head and drew the rag back, saying, "There. All clean."

Clean? I didn't feel very clean.

A charged silence hovered between us. If Mom thought I would be the one to break it, she was sorely mistaken. No torture hitherto devised could force my tongue to address what had happened. With luck we'd both forget, so I eased myself back and slid into a more comfortable position, preparing to ardently deny that I'd seen anything at all. It would go to my grave.

My mother sat on the bed and crossed her legs. "So..."

"I didn't see anything!" I blurted out. Dammit. "I-I mean, uh, I couldn't tell what you were doing."

Gods-fucking-dammit.

I wouldn't have guessed Mom's face could get so red. She ran a hand through her hair, holding her bathrobe together with the other to hide the cleavage I'd been staring at. Her lower half was the real problem; sitting cross-legged gave me a dangerously perfect view of those thighs. She whispered, "Sorry, Addie."

"You'resorry? I should have knocked!"

"No, I should have remembered you were coming."

"You've spent the last week without me," I said. "You forgot. This is my fault."

Mom's eyes grew even sadder. "A single week and I forget my daughter?"

"Hells below, can you stop being a perfect person for five minutes and let me apologize?"

She opened her mouth again, hesitated, then nodded.

Given ample room to speak, I suddenly had nothing to say. What more was there, anyway? I fucked up, I should have knocked, that was that. It wasn't her fault at all. Although, most would probably lock their door. Mom must've had unshakeable faith in the privacy her bedroom provided. Before tonight, anyway. No doubt she'd be locking it from now on. That stung a lot more than it should have.

"I forgive you," she said.

I kneaded my fingers. "Haven't even said it, yet."

"And when you do, I'll forgive you." Mom pulled a pillow into her lap, obscuring the tantalizing view. "I only regret how often we've had to apologize to each other, lately."

She couldn't stop being a perfect person, then. I knew she would forgive me, but hearing it like that eased the pressure bearing down on my chest. No surprise there. My mother once again yanked me from the fire despite that she had every right to be upset. I didn't just embarrass her, either. I interrupted her. I denied her the release she clearly needed, yetshewas the one easingmyanxiety. Mom deserved someone who treated her with the same degree of care.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "For spoiling your moment."

My mother furrowed her brow. "Of all the things you have to stress about, that isn't one of them. Trust me."

"Maybe. I still feel awful about it."

"Addie." She crawled closer to sit beside me, put an arm over my shoulder. "Don't. You didn't spoil anything."

"But you looked so--"

Mom held up a hand. Her tomato-red face somehow flushed even further. "You didn't. Whether you walked in or not, I..."

There was something dreadfully sad in the way her voice petered out, the way she swallowed and averted her eyes, fussing with the sash of her robe with unsteady hands. That picture of disheartened desperation planted an ache in my heart more powerful than any arousal. It banished what shyness or shame might otherwise keep my mouth shut. I said, "Wait, have you never...?"

Mom let out a pained, shuddering sound.

Oh.Oh.Here I'd pitied myself so much, yet a woman nearly double my age had been suffering the exact same agony--no, one worse than I could even fathom--only a few rooms away. A woman who functioned at a far greater capacity than I. A woman forced to live with splenetic servants, conniving courtiers, and a bumbling buffoon of a daughter. All the while, Mom never so much as hinted she struggled. Until today, of course. I had to pick today of all days to barge in.

"Please, Addie, don't let yourself worry for me. Not over this. You've too much else to think about." She glanced over a few times, never able to meet my gaze for long. "Besides, certain things ought remain undiscussed."

"Do you think so?" I asked.

Mom chewed her lower lip. "I do."

"Once again, ifIsaid that..."

She just shook her head, looking down into her lap.

"You were married. What about dad?"

My mother feigned a gag and rolled her eyes, then sank down to rest her head on a pillow. "That pig would've sooner killed a partner than let them finish. Actually, he's probably done exactly that before. The man often talked about how pretty I'd've been 'inside out'." Her fists curled into balls. "Ah, ahem. Sorry."

That was the most I'd learned of my father to date. Nothing I knew about him painted a particularly lovely portrait, but seeing the agony his mention brought to my mother stoked a hatred I didn't know myself capable of. How dare he treat her like that? Mom was the gentlest, kindest, and most selfless person I knew. How could anyone bear to take advantage of that?

I lay my hand on hers. "I think we can both stop apologizing."

"I shouldn't speak of him like that."

"What, do you think he'll hear?" I asked. She remained unnervingly silent. "He isn't here. He'll never be here, and he'll never talk to you like that again."

The corner of her mouth twitched. She turned her hand over, lacing our fingers together.

What came next was easy. So, so much easier than it had any right to be. Any other moment of any other day and I would have been absolutely paralyzed by fear, but not today. Not now. Now, the only thing I needed was for Mom to know how much I cared for her. How much I wanted her to be happy, wanted to reciprocate a modicum of her love. With a steady pulse, tamed lungs, and a brain somehow not imploding with panic, I asked, "Can I help?"

"You help me every day, love. Simply by being here."

"Sometimes I wonder."

She guided me to my back and snuggled closer, saying, "Don't. Your father was vile and the thought of being with him makes my skin crawl to this day, but I don't regret a second of it. Can you guess why?"

I looked at her.

Mom propped herself up on an elbow, letting waves of long, black hair frame an alabaster-skinned face. Her robe hung open slightly. Her chest was slight, almost flat yet still fuller than mine. She said, "If I'd never had sex with him, I wouldn't have you."

"Do you ever wish you had more? Children, I mean."

She rolled onto her back again; the robe hung open even further, but my mother appeared clueless. "If I had then I suppose you could be practicing kissing with a sister, rather than--"

"Mom!"

"Teasing, darling! Just teasing. I've thought about it, I admit, but never once have I thought I needed any more than just you."

"'Need' is a strong word," I replied, sucking air through my teeth. "You don't 'need' me."

Mom snorted and closed her eyes. "With all the love and respect in the world, you've never been more wrong."

I'd never pictured her needing anyone. She was the palace's bedrock, after all. But she lay right there beside me, squeezing my hand, saying just the opposite and further simplifying what already felt too easy.

"Then let me help," I said. "Like you help me."

She cracked one eyelid open. "What are you asking?"

"I'm notaskinganything. I'm offering."

"Okay, what are you offering?" Mom asked, propping herself up again.

The curious look scrunching her features caused me a flicker of unease, but I swallowed it down. I gestured vaguely to her lower half, stammering, "To help with, y-you know, your... er, difficulties."

"You're not--" My mother paused, then breathed. "Oh. That was a joke."

"Wouldn't be too funny a joke, would it?"

Wordlessly bringing her legs closer together, she stared at me, more than a handful of thoughts hiding behind those enchantingly bright hazel eyes. I hoped she'd have laughed at that, but perhaps confidence carried me too far. I didn't consider the possibility of a no, much less that no's ramifications. I hadn't even considered the ramifications of ayes.Increasingly doubtful, I squirmed beneath her gaze.

"Look, Addie, I appreciate--"

"I'm sorry," I interjected.

She put on a strained smile, reaching out to toy with a few locks of my hair. "What happened to no more apologies?"

"O-oh. Right. Sorry. I mean--" Stilling my tongue before it could do what it did best, I waited silently.

Her fingers trailed down my cheek, curled under my chin, then withdrew. Mom said, "I appreciate what you're trying to do. It's sweet, truly, and reminds me how lucky I am to have such a kind-hearted daughter. But... you're just that. Mydaughter."

"Exactly! Come on, I'm intimately aware of the fact that it's easier with two people."

"You're actually serious," Mom mumbled. She sat up straighter, adopting the motherly tone saved only for my most juvenile antics. "Thank you, Adrienne, but this is a private matter that I will address in private. Privately."

I scowled. "I'm not a child, you know."

"You'remychild."

There was an odd, uncertain quality to her expression. Her voice, too. Hells, everything about her lacked the surety my mother typically carried herself with. She fidgeted, mumbled, wouldn't meet my eye anymore; she looked like me. Or, me on any other night. Me on the night we kissed. I'd been anxious and embarrassed, but so, so horrendously needy. She'd told me I looked adorable like that. Well, so did she. Maybe that was what kept my nerves buried just deep enough to ignore.

And maybe it was time to be as firm with her as she'd been with me. I slid from the bed, standing with hands on hips and asking, "What would you have me do?"

She tilted her head, exhaled. "I'd have you tend to your realm. Not me."

"Tend to my realm," I repeated. With a click of the tongue, I rounded to the other side of the bed. "You know what? I think you're right."

She nodded, but there it was--a twinge of doubt. It flashed across her face for only the briefest of moments. Plenty to urge me on, though.

I continued, "I shouldn't be surprised; you're always right. Honestly, I don't know where I'd be without you."

Another nod, more idle as she combed her fingers through her hair and looked anywhere but at me.

"Wouldn't it just be tragic if something were to trouble my most trusted advisor? I'm not sure the court could carry on."

My mother froze.

"No, no, that'd be something we're obliged to address."

She pulled her legs under her. "Addie..."

"What?" I crossed my arms. "I'm tending to my realm, Mother."

"Adrienne, are you drunk again?"

"I'm not-- Hold on, what do you mean 'again'?"

She giggled, a little crack in her uneasy exterior. "You don't remember stumbling into court the morning after your birthday?"

"Once," I said. "That happened one time."

"One very, very entertaining time." Mom looked fondly up at the ceiling. "Couldn't hold that liquor to save your life."

"I was fifteen! Maybesomebodyshould be a little more diligent about locking the wine cellar, rather than--" I held up a hand, cutting myself off. "You're changing the subject."

She just shrugged, batting her lashes.

I glared at her.

With a huff and a roll of the eyes, Mom shuffled to sit at the edge of the bed, leaning forward and looking up expectantly. When I said nothing, she mirrored my folded arms and sullen expression. "You were saying?"

"I was saying..." I began. What was I saying? Her cute little pout wreaked havoc on my train of thought. "You know, you really sucked the wind from my sails."

She sighed. "You were 'tending to your realm'."

"Right! Right. As Duchess, I hereby decree that the needs of my chief counsel--that's you--are of utmost importance to the, uh, the..."

"The welfare of our demesne?" Mom suggested.

"Exactly." I released a long, slow breath. That was the most I'd actually tried to embody my title in... ever? It didn't feel so bad.

After a few brutally sluggish seconds, she finally,finallydonned her first true smile of the night. That alone washed away any lingering hints of doubt. It felt thrilling, almost, knowing I was the reason for it. I couldn't fight off my own stupid grin.

She groaned into her palms, falling back into the bed and saying, "Okay, listen. First of all, I'm loving this side of you. Promise you'll let her out again sometime."

"If I can find her."

"You will," Mom said. She stared up at the ceiling for a while, lazily kicking her feet over the bed's edge. "Second, tell me exactly what it is you're suggesting."

"I already did. I want to help."

"How?"

How? The 'how' somehow never entered my mind. I stammered, "Oh, uh, okay. I guess we'd... Or, I could use my, um..." I raised my hand and wiggled my fingers.

She visibly cringed. "We'd what? I want to hear it out loud."

Was she teasing me? It felt like it, but there wasn't much mirth on her face. "You know what I'm saying."

"Love, you aren't thinking. You don't want to say it because you don't want to do it, and I'm not going to let you do something you don't want just because you think I need it." My mother sat up, took my hand. "That tender soul of yours has far, far better uses. If you can't even say the words, how could you--"

"I want to help you come."

She seemed to choke on her own tongue.

"S-sorry, um,orgasm," I clarified. "The 'how' would be up to you."

Mom stayed silent, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes clearly roiling with turmoil. Her hands fussed with themselves in her lap.

"I mean, you're teaching me to kiss. It's not so different, right?"

"It's pretty different," she said softly. "Gods. What's gotten into you, Addie? This isn't like you."

I nodded. It was nothing like me, but was nonetheless. My nerves would almost certainly catch up sooner or later and reduce me to a stuttering, apologizing wreck. Until then, the only thing that mattered was the person in front of me. I said, "I love you. I just want to help."

"I... I understand. But--"

"And," I cut in, "I think you want it too. Don't you?"

In that instant, hidden between stress lines and flushed cheeks, I saw fear, just a glimmer yet more than she'd ever shown me before. More than she'd shown anyone, maybe. What would have been normal elsewhere looked downright surreal on my mother. I mean, who had I always run to when life grew frightening? Who had I trusted to make everything bad disappear with a hug and a kiss? Looking down at the unusually timid woman I admired so much, I wanted to give her the same. To hug her, kiss her, promise all would be well--to make her happy by whatever means I could. Was that wrong?

"You told me you wished I could," I added. "Remember?"

"I didn't mean-- You know that's not what I meant."

"Maybe."

Mom scoffed. "Maybe?Definitely."

"Mhmm. Maybe."

She glowered, looking away.

"But, maybe not?" I sat beside her. When she turned her head the other way, I got right up and sat on the other side. My mother released an exasperated groan--another sound typically saved for me at my most vexing. I said, "I could be wrong, obviously. Gods know I'm wrong often. You've just been saying a lot of things and giving a lot of excuses, but... you haven't simply said 'no'."

If anything was going to convince her to put a stop to this ridiculous display, I'd just said it. I didn't see the line being crossed until the words left my mouth. But, she said nothing. Lips parted, breath hitched and pupils dilated, but my mother remained absolutely silent.

Quietly, I asked, "Do you want me to go?"

I expected a yes. A nod, a noise, anything at all. She just shut her eyes and filled her lungs.

"That feels like a no."

Her jaw clenched, nose crinkling.

"Okay, uh, I'm sorry if I made things weird. I'll just go, okay?"

"Wait."

I hesitated halfway to the door. Turning back, I met her wary, doe-eyed gaze. "Yeah?"

My mother rubbed one foot with the other, saying, "You aren't joking."

"I feel like we've established that," I replied with a smile, "but no. I'm not. But if you don't want--"

"It doesn't matter what I want."

Did she really think so? The poor woman truly did prioritize everything but herself. "With all the love and respect in the world, Mom, you've never been more wrong."

She let out a clipped half-laugh. Grimacing, she pulled up her feet to sit cross-legged again, flopping back onto the bed a moment later. "Fucking Hells, what's wrong with me?"

"Is that a--"

"Hush, Adrienne." Mom sat up, swallowed, dragged her hands down her face, clapped them together, and screamed through clenched teeth and lips. "Alright, listen. We need to set some ground rules, okay? Boundaries."

My heart leapt to the back of my throat.

"First of all, this is not for enjoyment. This will remain strictly--strictly--professional. No dallying. Second, if I tell you to stop--"

"I'll stop. Obviously."

"You'll stop," she repeated. She began cracking her knuckles one by one. "Third, you can help, but I'll finish it myself. You will close your eyes if the time comes. And turn around. And plug your ears. And maybe just leave the room."

We were actually doing this. The reality of it must still not have settled, since I stood there patiently rather than jittering out of my own skin. "Anything else?"

"Fourth, this is a one-time thing. Nothing more. We will not be letting this get carried away."

I'd assumed as much. In fact, it felt strange she thought that that needed saying. Knitting my brow, I asked, "Is that something you're worried about?"

"Fifth, you-- Huh?"

"Getting 'carried away'."

After a few too many awfully quiet seconds, she eked out a trembling laugh, shaking both head and hands as if it could erase the last five seconds. "Oh! No, n-no, of course not. You detest this necessity as much as I, surely! I-I mean, there must be thousands of places you'd rather be, millions of people you'd rather be with--people you're actually interested in. Or, attracted to. Rather than, you know, your elderly mom."

"You're the second-youngest person in this palace."

She shrugged, looking down and playing with her hair.

Shy was a new color on her. Every time Mom's blush deepened or her voice shook, all those ground rules started looking more and more like they were made to be broken. I said, "For what it's worth, you've always been the most beautiful person I know."