Double-Edged Words

CHAPTER EIGHT

My foot tapped against the floor. I clasped my sweaty palms together and glanced at the wooden clock hanging on the wall. Five minutes left. I'm in way over my head. I can't do this. I'm not smart enough or talented enough to do this. What was I thinking? I can't be a duchess. I don't have enough character or class for it. I can't, I really can't. I jumped out of the couch and went for the door. The doorknob slid out of my fingers, and a warm chest took its place at my fingertips.

"Madam," Mr. Benjamin cleared his throat.

My back went ramrod straight. A blond woman, wearing a dress a size too small and thick-rimmed glasses, stepped into the office.

"This is Ms. Rose, your teacher for the next couple of years. She will be helping you with your reading and writing. As well as your basic studies."

With her index finger, the woman pushed her glasses up. Her face was grave as her gaze darted from my face to my dress, to my shaking hands, and back to my face. "Good Morning, Your grace, It's a great honor to have you as my student. Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity." She bowed her head.

"Y―Yes, thank you for being willing to teach me." My nails almost tore through the fabric covering my thighs as I held my skirt in a vice grip.

"Well, Madam, I'll be taking my leave now so you can start with your studies." After a quick, courteous bow. Benjamin left, closing the door behind him.

I gestured towards the couch with a small, timid smile, and we both sat down.

She rummaged through her large bag, taking out a small stack of papers and some books. She spread them out on the coffee table and said, "Alright, madam, we will start by assessing your current knowledge. We will start with reading and writing, and then we will proceed with the basic subjects." Her eyes trailed to the desk. "Oh, here you go." She grabbed the quill and the pot of ink resting on the table. Halfway back to the couch, her eyes moved between me and the desk, "Is it not more comfortable for you to sit at the desk?"

"Um, no, that's the duke's working space. I don't want to disturb any of his things there." I responded with a watery smile and dropped my gaze to the floor.

"Alright," Her voice trailed off, and the couch dipped under her weight.

Two hours of embarrassing attempts at reading and discouraging assessments later, my hand gave out, not able to withstand the building tension in my muscles. "I'm sorry Ms. This is all I know," I dropped the quill and hung my head in shame.

"Don't fret about this, dear. You know quite a lot. Which is good news because we don't have to start from scratch."

"But I don't know if I can learn anything. I've been trying to learn how to write for five years already and as you can see, I write no better than a five-year-old." My shoulders slumped, and I hugged my chest, trying to protect my heart from the incoming belittling remarks.

"Did you have me there to teach you?" A small smile broke across her face.

"Um, no"

"Then there you have it. With me as your teacher, consistency, and enough practice, you'll be able to do anything in no time. All you have to do is work hard and, most importantly, believe in yourself. Believe that you can do anything you set your mind to."

I looked at her from under my lashes, too afraid to get my hopes up to later realize it was a cruel joke. 

She placed a hand on my shoulder, "If you can't believe in yourself, for now, then I'll do it for the both of us. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."