Chapter eleven
"So… meet the ladies," Philip
smirked with pride.
The Scottish hid the displeasure she felt with a smile.
Anna…
Rebecca…
And the very same snake she lost contact with a long time ago, Elizabeth…
The Duke's sister eyed Monica from head to toe, not a single smile on her face. She did not blink twice before she looked away.
Monica was smiling now with her eyes travelling from one lady to the other two. Her next actions seemed practiced.
A grin.
Wave of her hair.
Then a curtsy, "My pleasure."
Elizabeth Aflong had that sudden uneasy feeling again. This was the second time her fiance had brought her home, and judging by the way she looked, her marriage was really under a threat. And that same feeling she knew her from somewhere returned.
"Who are you," she finally asked her.
That voice…
The lady with the red hair smiled randomly. It was surprisingly exciting to here that voice again, "Monica," she replied and smirked wickedly afterwards, knowing her next words will wreak havoc, "Monica Maitland."
A smash was heard next on the floor. Elizabeth had dropped her cup of tea, her face ashen white. She could have sworn she knew her, "Maitland?"
The name also seemed to ring in Rebecca's head. Her face was also a pale white, and her hands shivered limply.
Monica found it all amusing as always, releasing a soft laugh from her lips. Her gaze travelled from the younger lady to the older one, then back to the younger, "Does it ring a bell?"
Anna was the only lady who did not know what was happening. Her brother and his friends were also in a state of oblivion. But as anyone else, they kept quiet for the three women to explain.
With the way things were, Monica seemed like the only woman who still had her sense of speech.
Rebecca was still trying to stammer her words, "Maitland? Do you happen to be…"
"Yes," Monica answered before the question was finished, her smile widening even more, "I am Monica Maitland, the daughter to the late Duke of Kilmarnock, Maitland Avani."
Now, even the men were gawking at her, especially Jason. So the so-called wretched thief was a Duke's daughter. And not just any Duke, but that of Kilmarnock, one of the wealthiest in Scotland. And of course the same Kilmarnock that Philip presently owned.
"Why do you behave as though you've seen a ghost," she now directed the question to all of them.
Silence.
The air got very tense even when nobody said  anything. Elizabeth's hands still shivered, her eyes on the floor.
The duchess finally lost her patience, raised her chin and forced a frown on, "Take her away from here Philip."
It just needed those words to bring everybody back to a state of consciousness. And confusion.
The Duke turned to Rebecca with a hard glare, "Why mother?!"
"She…" the older lady started with a slight pause, "you know her father was a horrible person…"
Monica forced herself to stand still, if not she would kill someone soon.
Rebecca continued, "Little wonder he raised some lady who stooped low to steal."
That was the height of madness for Monica Maitland, "No offence my lady," deep down though she meant to offend, "I have a vivid memory of everything that happened years ago. Do you remember or do I need to remind you?"
The duchess recognized the hidden threat in that question and panted angrily. When she shot her a glare, Monica returned one twice as daring.
However she felt she was done here, having her mood spoilt was enough damage for one day. With one last look at the three ladies, she walked out after bowing to the men behind her.
Philip finally found a few words to snarl out, "Wait Monica," he turned to his mother, "You…!"
The Scottish didn't stop walking even with the best person she knew calling her.
Earl was someone else who was slightly angered by what the duchess had said. He followed behind Philip after expressing his displeasure with the look he gave Rebecca.
The Duke had not reached Monica until they were at the hallway. Her strides seemed determined and vaguely long.
"Monica. Monica," he had to stand in her path before she chose to stop, "Wait, what was that about?"
She looked up at him.
Oh Christ he was perfect from this view…
Bad timing! She snapped out of her trance, forcing herself to reason, "Our fathers were not the best of friends. And your mother assumes my father had the fault there."
The Scottish turned to look at Earl who was a few feet away from them, trying not to invade in their privacy. Her eyes rested on Philip again as she smiled warmly. She took a slight pause to build up some courage, then raised her hand to touch his face in a manner he almost found improper.
But soothing.
"Thank you for everything," she looked into his golden gaze searching hers innocently, "You will hear from me."
With all willpower, she lowered her palm and looked away, leaving through the doors that led to the outside.
If Earl was surprised, Philip was dumbfounded. He exchanged confused stares with Earl and opened his mouth to speak.
However, the words that came out were not his own, "Is it strange she's the first woman who's touched me that way?"
The Marquess shrugged sternly, "I'm surprised because she looked serious for the very first time."
***
Rebecca ran slowly behind her son who had been ignoring her, "Philip. Philip. I am talking to you. Do not bring that woman anywhere near this mansion again!"
At her words, The Duke finally turned to her and spoke with a tone of finality, "What an irony!" He smiled, "Who's the owner mother? Who decides things here? I do. And guess what," he hadn't stopped grinning at her despite the shock written on her face. He concluded, "I want her around here."
Rebecca seemed to force herself not to break down, her height tall, shoulders high, chin up, she stammered, "You have never spoken to me like this…"
"That is because you have never acted this way before," The Duke was fast on his feet when he answered, "Our fathers had the emnity. If they are both dead, then to hell with it!"
Rebecca reached out to touch his face, "My dear…" he flinched to avoid her, much to her disbelief, "listen to me. It's not all about the emnity. Look at her, look at us. There's no part of us that blends with the hers. You should not let these things bother you. As Duke, have nothing to do with your father's rivals and struggle to rule Anfield better than he did. For goodness sake, I know what I am saying!"
Her son's gaze studied her face intently, seemingly thinking of what to say next. But somehow, nothing came up, simply because he saw every meaning of what she had said. With a final sigh, he walked away without a word.
And this time, the duchess did not follow. As she let out a gasp, she watched him stride into his office. However, Rebecca realized he was going to think on her words.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth still stood by the door, watching the older woman with a distant look on her face. It did not occur to her that a day like this was going to return. Her cousin was back for her. And she knew with Monica around, her nights were not going to be just as peaceful. Then she decided to do something.
Hurting the lady was certainly not an option, mainly because she knew she could not do it. Monica looked like she could move a mountain or something, literally.
But an ally like that was surely what she needed. When the idea popped into her mind, a smirk rested on her lips.
***
Earl was not yet satisfied though. His hands tore through the papers on Philip's desk, searching for just anything, "I believe there's more to it than meets the eye Your Grace."
Philip was not listening. He had his head low, his mind in many places all at once. The Duke raised his hand to stroke his hair, an unusual way of thinking, "She happens to belong to the Monarchy. I can't believe its possible to come from all the way up there down to the streets of England, stealing to survive. All because of my father?"
His friends watched him. From the silence, they seemed to understand his dilemma. And if there was a way to help, they needed the full story first.
"There seemed like there was something they tried so hard not to tell. Something Monica knows that made your mother go numb. And I doubt it's just all about the rivalry," Jason muttered in a disturbed manner. And it was the first time in long time he dropped his ego to think clearly.
"Elizabeth seems to be aware as well," Earl rushed to say. After another while of thoughts, he glanced at Philip who had been quiet all along to suggest, "Your Grace, don't you think you could hold on with this thing you call marriage for a while?"
The Duke raised his head finally to look at his friend, rolling his eyes, "Did I ever look like I wanted it. It's even more burdensome than dukedom."
The older Prince began laughing hysterically, displaying the mockery he had for his friend right to his face, "You could always call it off."
Philip glared at him when he said that, choosing not to say what he had in mind. It may just get him strangled at least. So he ignored and searched for a pen.
"What now," Raymond asked.
Philip drew out the top drawer and slipped a sheet of paper out of it, placing the best piece right in front of him. Afterwards, he bent forward and began scribbling something down, "I need to send her a letter."
"Her? Who?" Peter inquired.
"Monica," Philip said despite how annoying he felt the question was.
Because somehow, he knew this moment was not going to pass without Earl saying something.
And the devil did prove him right as always. The Marquess glittered with a smile, "When I first heard of the Scottish damsel, I knew there would be a fire between you two."
Philip frowned deeply and shoved his glower to Earl, "It is plainly official!" He bent his head again and  couldn't help but add, "Curses!"
And as always, Earl never got offended. He had this charm so unavoidably noticeable even to men themselves. And when those hazel eyes of his cringed in laughter, it always seemed to lighten the mood, as infectious as may be. Even at this very moment.