Beautiful Torment *Book One of the Beautiful series*

4) Only friend

"You dare to refuse me, whore?" He demanded, narrowing his vale green irises churned with anger.

"I am no whore, my Lord. I am a maid. I brought your morning tea," Lucy responded the best she could through her pinched jaw. She fought against the overwhelming urge to rip away from the man. His proximity and bare skin made her insides crawl.

"Ah," the Duke raised a sandy colored brow. He turned her face both left and right, studying it in the firelight. "Could it be? The same little mouse from last night?"

Lucy felt the fury in her gaze as she stared up at him, but only nodded.

"You are a prickly jade, I will give you that. I think you would be a delight around my throbbing cock. I fear I tired your friend out last night." His devilish smirk indicated Isabelle's sleeping form on the bed behind him before he pressed his hips into the front of her dress. Even through the many layers between them, Lucy could feel his stiffness poking her stomach.

"I told you, my lord. I am no whore, I am a maid. I am not for sale," she protested again, pressing back into the dresser in an attempt to gain distance from him.

The Duke laughed, the tone surprisingly warm and rich for someone so vile. "Simple girl, everyone is for sale for a price, especially in a place like this." Before she could utter so much as a squeak of protest, his mouth was smashing against hers, hungry and rough.

Bile rose to the back of her throat as she struggled against him. Just like his servant, when she was pushing with all her might, it was to no avail. When his slippery tongue shoved its way past her lips, she instinctively bit down, nipping the tip of his tongue with her front teeth. The salty iron taste of his blood wet her mouth.

A shout of surprise poured out of him."You insolent little bitch!" He reared back, eyes wide, before sending a sharp slap over her cheek.

Lucy was knocked sideways by the stinging force of it. She fell against the velvet curtains, nearly ripping them down in the process. Her fingers rose to cup the side of her face where the skin felt hot from his strike. For a moment, her vision danced blurry with pain until everything came back into focus. Seeing first, the Duke grinning down at her, then the fact that Isabelle had woken from her stupor; confused and staring between the two of them.

"My lord?" She said questioningly, her deep brown eyes narrowed on Lucy, lingering over the reddening of her cheek.

The Duke laughed again, delighted. "I do adore a vixen with some fight in her," he grinned, wiping the corner of his mouth that was damp with blood from his cut tongue.

Isabelle sat up, her curtain of curly black hair fell over her shoulder. "My lord, ignore the little ratbag and come to bed. I am aching for you."

The Duke shot a dark look over his shoulder, though clearly tempted by Isabelle, he was not finished with the young maid. Lucy flinched as he reached for her again, pulling her upright and close to him. So close that he could whisper in her ear, his breath trickled through her thick hair. "This is not over. I will have you sooner or later. This I promise."

Lucy felt as though she had been holding her breath until she stepped out of Isabelle's room into the hall. Her knees shook and her face stung. She had been hit before by Madam Caledonia and some of the harlots when they had too much to drink, but this was a different kind of pain. It echoed humiliation and shame that seemed to follow her all the way down to the servant quarters. It was a haunting shadow that painted the story of her refusal, and she could only worry that she would suffer more for it.

Thankfully, she found the servant halls and her room deserted. Everyone was off to work by now and she would not have to explain the finger shaped red marks she could feel deepening on her cheek. Closing the door shut behind her, she rushed to the mirror to have a look at the damage. Her light green eyes were red rimmed and just as she feared, her cheek was scarlet with a deep bruise already forming. The braid she had had was disheveled and loose from falling into the dresser and being man handled by that beast. She found herself wondering how a man like that could call himself a Duke. For once in her life, she was thankful for Isabelle. That sneering serpent had saved her, intentionally or not.

A sigh hissed its way out of her lips when she probed the tender edge of the mark. There was only one thing to do now if she did not want Madam catching sight of this shiner, and it was going to be dangerous. She needed to sneak up to Victoria's room and ask to borrow the girl's rouse powders.

Lucy peeled herself away from the mirror after reordering her hair and styling it to try to hide the mark. A thought crossed her mind that this was likely all for nothing. The Duke would probably tell Madam everything at breakfast, if not a version of it that painted him in a better light. It would be her word against a man's. A royal man's, at that. Still, it did not stop her from following the winding staircases where she avoided staff and whores alike until she reached the second floor.

Victoria's bedroom was adjacent to her mother's, but Madam Caldonia was more than likely occupied ordering Rosalind around. Making the dining hall perfect for her breakfast with the Duke. Tapping on the door, she prayed her friend was awake, since she was notorious for rising early.

After a heartbeat passed, the door whipped open and a furious looking Victoria stood on the other side. "I swear on all the Gods, Madelyn, if you are here to steal another of my dresses I will-" she pulled up short, realizing who it was and not one of the harlots who preyed on her soft, giving nature. "Oh, Lucy, it is you."

A smile lit her freckled face, reaching up to her sky blue eyes. Her hair, red as flame, was piled on top of her head with only a few strands curling down on either side of her neck. She wore a deep emerald dress made of fine silk. Like Lucy's, it pushed her breasts high and hugged down to her waist, at which point it then flowed down to brush the floor.

Lucy, feeling free to be herself with her friend, let out a low, impressed whistle. "Victoria Bailey, you cut the finest of figures."

Victoria grinned and pulled at her skirts to drop into a mock curtsy, but when her blue eyes pulled back up, her face fell and she dropped her dress. "Lucy, your face!" She gasped.

Lucy jerked her chin away from her friend's touch. "It is nothing, do not fret."

"This is not nothing! Did Katerina clip you again?"

A foreboding feeling twisted in Lucy's gut, "You really think that wag-tail could land such a clean blow?" She tried to joke, but her tone came out as anything but teasing. She sounded weak and afraid.

Victoria pulled her into the room and shut the door before locking it. "What has happened?"

The girls room was decorated in shades of light olive green, offset by mahogany trim. Victoria shepherded Lucy to the upholstered bench at the foot of her queen bed and made her sit.

"The Duke," Lucy said after finding her voice. She swallowed loudly and let Victoria take her hand. "When I brought his morning tea...he frisked me." She could not think of a better word to describe what the man had done to her. How his fingers had trailed up her stockings and started digging into the crotch of her drawers. Victoria, after all, was only sixteen summers old. And though she grew up in a brothel just like Lucy, her mother had shielded her, to an extent, from the unpleasantness that sometimes took place in it. Lucy did not want to scar her young friend.

"I-it took me by surprise, so I accidentally swatted at him. Which he did not take well to, so he forced his vile kiss on my mouth and...and I bit his tongue. This is what he struck me for." Lucy felt the familiar shame burning through her as she relived the moment. She wanted to retch and scream at the top of her lungs. But she could do neither here.

Victoria's mouth fell open and her cheeks went aflame with rage. "You poor thing! The Duke sounds atrocious...and to think Mother dressed me in my finest to meet that scum. I will go to her now and tell her to send him away and never, ever allow him back. "

Lucy caught her arm as she made to rise. The sweet girl was absolutely seething and Lucy adored her for it, but there was no way she was letting her go down to start making wild demands of Madam Caledonia. Though the old witch babied her youngest daughter, she knew if it came down to her love for her child versus her love for money, Victoria would lose.

"Please-" Lucy said, "do not. I-I could not bear the shame of it."

Victoria's eyes widened in surprise, but she heeded Lucy's pleas and settled herself back down onto the cushioned bench. "Of course, but why did you come then, if not for my help?"

Lucy gave the girl a sad smile, gently squeezing her arm. "You have helped me by listening and offering the comfort only a true friend can provide..." Lucy shot a sheepish look towards the girl's vanity where she knew she kept her powder and charcoal. "...and perhaps there is one other thing."