Imprecation (noun): a curse

Several stacks of documents teetered from the carpet to the tabletop, each tower threatening to topple at the slightest breath of wind—a collection of legacies. Filthy legacies, left behind by a duke with no conscience for any living soul but his own. It was obvious that clearing those mountainous records was as much labor as they were repentance.

A helpless sigh escaped from the young woman’s throat. She set down her third pen of the day, wondering if her father had drained the people of their money as quickly as she dried her pen of ink.

It was lunch time.

She poked her head out of the dark oak doors but saw no one outside her room. Only a small cart, with a tray of carefully plated lamb and a glass of red wine resting besides it.

Lifting her head, the young woman caught the swish of a black skirt disappearing around a corner—a maid, likely trying her best to escape silently before a predator could catch her and kill her.

She couldn’t blame the poor servant. Death was the exact consequence of disturbing the late duke.

Grimly dragging the food back into her room, the new duchess dined with the company of her own shadow and the staggering responsibility to wipe away the dark smudge left by her father.