Secrets & Scandals

1. A Problematic Crush

Finally, Maddie spotted the bookseller's shop. She went in, showing the receipt to the merchant.

"Ah, for Mr Duncan, yes?"

Maddie blinked for a moment, then nodded. It was still a bit strange to her to think of Ambrose as 'Mr Duncan'. It had not been that long ago that that title had been reserved for his father, the late Mr Duncan. After his passing last year, eldest son Ambrose had stepped up as the 'man of the house', responsible for the welfare of his (high-strung) mother and two (spoiled) siblings – a brother Cyril and sister Joy.

So far, Ambrose Duncan had done an admirable job of running things, though he was set to be wed soon and would probably even move out of the house. His bride-to-be? Gwyneth Swan, a woman as insufferable as she was rich and beautiful.

Ambrose is already past thirty, so people are expecting him to marry. Still, it's not so bad for a man. If it were a woman unmarried at thirty... well, the things they'd be calling her wouldn't be quite so forgiving.

"Alright, here you go, Miss," the bookseller declared, dropping a pile of books on the counter with a veritably worrying thud!

Maddie's jaw dropped as she took in the stack. "T-that's his order?" She did a quick count, racking up seven books in total, each one thicker than the last.

"That's right. It makes you wonder who has time to read all of it?"

"Rich men with nothing else to do," she couldn't help blurting, and the bookseller blinked at her.

Oops. Too blunt, perhaps.

"Well, that being said, 'rich men with nothing else to do' do make up the bulk of my customers, and surely keep you employed," the old man replied with a smirk.

"And I'm ever grateful," she grunted as she embraced the pile of books with both arms and hoisted them off on the counter.

"Are you going to be alright, Miss?" he asked worriedly, watching as she tottered over towards the door.

"Yes, of course! Not to worry. I'll manage. I always do."

With some difficulty, she managed to get the door open and slip out, trundling her way back towards the Duncan house. With every step, the books seemed to magically weigh a little more, but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that she was finding it hard to see where she was going. She was glad at least, that other people were quick to move out of the way for her.

It's not that far, you can make it.

But then, came the tricky part. It was time to cross a major street with big groups of people and carriages going to and fro every minute. For a moment, her gaze was drawn to a group of soldiers walking past, their smiling, handsome faces in the sun a sight to behold. Then almost as quickly, she turned away, focusing on her task.

Maddie looked both ways, waiting for the right moment before doing a clumsy dash across, muttering hushed prayers the entire time. Finally, she made it to the other side and –

...tripped, dropping the books right into a dirty puddle.

Maddie lay there on her hands and knees, the front of her work dress soaked as she stared at the sight before her. Ambrose's books...

Grabbing each one, she used the edge of her dress to try and clean off them as best as she could. She did her best, but a lot of the pages were hopelessly soaked and grimy.

I'm such an idiot. Ambrose will have my head for this!

Still, there was nothing for her to do but gather up the books and continue on her way. Whereas before, she had been impatient to get to her destination, now, she dreaded it.

I will tell him what happened, apologize profusely and then accept whatever punishment he has for me, she decided, a nervous swallow working its way down her throat.

Ruined books in arm, she went to his room, finding the door ajar but the owner not within. Stepping inside, she placed the books carefully on his desk before pausing to take a look around.

It was not her first time in Ambrose Duncan's room, but knowing that he would likely soon be moving out for good, she found herself pausing to take in little details of the space.

One of his coats – olive green – sat draped over the back of a chair, a suit tailored to perfectly fit his broad-shouldered frame. All around the room, there was an endless collection of books, all non-fiction.

Her son Devon also liked to read but he preferred fantasy and adventure books. He would have considered Ambrose dull and lacking in imagination.

And then, there was a small painting of Ambrose and his late father hanging on the far wall. Neither were smiling, but there was a comfortable ease between them; Ambrose had been very close to his father, who had favored him in turn, probably since they were most alike in the family.

Ambrose had never been the same after his father's death, though he liked to pretend otherwise. On her part, Maddie missed the old man a great deal. He'd always been kind to her. Once, he'd complimented her when he'd heard her singing a nursery rhyme to herself, instead of making fun of her or scolding her for it. She would always remember that.

Maddie reached out, tentatively touching the picture of the late Mr Duncan, his voice as clear in her head as if he were still here.

"Ahem," she jumped at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. She turned around, her heart speeding up at the sight of Ambrose Duncan standing there, filling the doorway.

"M-Mr Duncan, Sir! I-I'm sorry, I..." she trailed off, her gaze snapping over to the pile of books she'd brought in.

He followed her gaze, brows lifting. "My books."

"Yes, well, the thing is..."

He strode across the room, picking up the top book and grimacing, switching his grip to hold it by the corner. "Why is it wet?" Then, with a once-over at the state of her clothes. "And you? What happened to you?"

Maddie stared back at him, eyes stretched wide. She knew this was the part where she was supposed to apologize and explain, but it seemed like she'd lost the ability to formulate words, all of a sudden. "It was an accident," she finally conjured in a tiny voice. "I... I'm so sorry, Sir."

He stared at her, steely gray eyes unblinking. After a long moment, he set the book down, pulling out a kerchief and wiping off his hands. The fact that he was saying nothing was making her more and more anxious by the minute. "Sir?" her voice shook.

He glanced at her, expectant.

"What will my punishment be?"

"Punishment?" He shifted his weight, shrugging his shoulders. "They're just books, Maddie. You can go," he said curtly, in a voice that said 'and that's that'.

"Oh. Yes, Sir."

She started to leave, but just a few steps from the door, he slipped in front of her unexpectedly, that she almost bumped into his chest. "Hold on a minute."

Maddie froze, holding her breath as she lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

"May I ask what you were doing earlier?"

"I'm sorry?"

He cocked his head over to the far wall, where the painting was hanging. Maddie stiffened as she realized his meaning. He saw me. He saw me touching the painting and must be wondering what on earth I was doing. It was not my place.

Ambrose watched her, waiting for a response.

"I was simply cleaning away some dust."

"Hmm. I see. Alright, then." He sidestepped, cocking his head at her to signal that she was properly dismissed this time.

Maddie stepped forward, waiting until she'd left the room to heave a big sigh and thank each and every one of her lucky stars.