The Ace: His undercover Maid

A blackguard, a duckling and a maid

*Ace*

Blackguard Blackfoot.

I decide a man could be called worse. Sitting at the mahogany desk in my grand library, perusing the latest gossip sheet, I am astounded by how quickly and decisively a man's reputation can fall because of scandal. Two transgressions that became very public last autumn are being rehashed in the gossip rags as a warning to the latest batch of mating season debutantes and other she-wolves in search of a mate: a liaison with me is bound to bring about ruination.

While I am not the only one to have made that damning list, it seems I have secured the top position as the one to be avoided at any cost. Thankfully, I am more amused than insulted because I am not on the hunt for a mate. Not this mating season nor the next nor the following fifty. I understand all too well the pitfalls of marriage and intend to avoid being shackled until I draw my last breath.

"Sir?"

I glance up to see my slender, silver-haired butler standing as rigidly as a poker just inside the doorway. "What is it, Perkins?"

"I apologize for disturbing you when you are about your work, but a Luna Duckling wishes an audience." He says.

Slipping my golden timepiece from my waistcoat pocket, I glance at the hour. A little after seven. At nine is a meeting of the hand, a moniker given to me and my three firmest friends while we were studying hard and wreaking havoc during our time at Alpha School because of our ruthless strategy when it comes to investing. That ruthlessness is the reason I am presently able to do anything I damned well please without worrying about pack Society's censure. "I'll see her, but do have the car brought round as I'll be departing once our business is concluded."

The second Perkins disappears, I put away the newsprint as well as the numerous reports that outline various investment opportunities I am considering. When my desk is tidied to my satisfaction, I shove back the sturdy leather chair, stand, and move to the center of the gigantic chamber. I purchased this ridiculously large residence because my father wanted it, and I made it my life's ambition to deny my sire anything he desired.

Now I wait patiently for my guest. Nothing good ever comes from rushing into judgment, and I've long ago learned the value of biding my time until all aspects of the situation present themselves.

Only a few minutes pass before Perkins returns. A she-wolf who lives up to her namesake waddles in behind him. Small in stature, she wears a dress of deep yellow buttoned up to her chin. Her blond hair is tucked beneath a narrow-brimmed hat, its crown decorated with only a few light blue flowers and a sprig of green.

"Luna Ava Duckling," Perkins announces gravely, and the she-wolf gives a startled jerk as though I had reached around and pinched her bum. She looks like she's preparing to take flight at any moment, with the merest encouragement to flee. A loud noise. An unexpected action. The flickering of one of the gaslights.

Ensuring my strides are leisurely, long, and unthreatening, I cross over to her. "Luna Duckling, how may I be of service?"

She looks at Perkins, then shifts her attention back to me. In a barely audible whisper, she asks, "Are you the Ace?"

"It's merely Ace, a name my mates bestowed upon me when I was at school. I must say it rather stuck." A nickname given to me because they Said I always had an ace up my sleeve.

"Luna Winters said you helped her last autumn." She mumbles

"I did indeed." The assistance cost me five thousand quid when Alpha Winters sued me for damages, but I considered the money well spent and my account didn't mourn the loss. "Why don't you join me by the fire, and we'll discuss the reason you've called?"

Gnawing on her bottom lip, she glances around. "Upon further reflection, I probably shouldn't have come."

"You're perfectly safe with me, Luna Duckling. Perkins, have tea brought in." I command.

"Yes, sir." Having never been entirely comfortable around the she-wolves who frequently visit and being terribly unskilled at hiding his disapproval of their presence, Perkins makes a hasty retreat.

I back up several steps. "I think you'll find this chair over here the most cozy. I'll stand by the hearth, shall I?"

She gives a half nod before shuffling over to a large stuffed wingback chair. I stop by my decanter table and pour myself some scotch before walking over to the massive marble fireplace, leaning against it, and studying the she-wolf fidgeting so nervously before me. "I take it that you've come to me because you wish to obtain a divorce."

She gives a jerky nod and clasps her hands tightly together. "He is not unfaithful, but neither is he a kind man. He has incredibly high expectations, and when they are not met..."

In commiseration, I shake my head. "I don't need to know the particulars, Luna Duckling. That you desire to be free of him is reason enough."

"I do worry that I've delayed the inevitable for too long. I think he wishes to be rid of me, possibly to have me committed... or worse." She mumbles.

Hearing the rattling of china, I hold a finger to my lips. In order to meet with success in helping these she-wolves gain their freedom, I find it necessary that no one knows of my true involvement with them.

Holding a tea tray, a young she-wolf I don't recognize walks gracefully into my library. Her hair, the shade of the dark sirup I pour over my scones at breakfast, is tightly secured into a neat knot beneath her white mobcap. Her eyes, a mesmerizing bright blue, like the delphiniums my mother took such delight in growing, are alert with an inquisitiveness that seems to take in her surroundings and catalog each aspect. Wearing a simple black dress and frilly white bibbed apron, she requires no adornment to make her one of the most strikingly beautiful she-wolves I've ever laid eyes upon.

Perkins handles all the hiring and letting go of servants, and I generally pay them little notice. But she's somehow different, demanding attention by simply existing. She sets the tray on the small table nearest to Luna Duckling.

"Have we been introduced?" I'm not in the habit of asking questions to which I already know the answer. If I had ever crossed paths with her in the hallway, I wouldn't have forgotten. But I require something innocuous, and 'who the devil are you' doesn't seem the way to go.

Her attention had been on my guest, but she quickly shifts her focus to me and bobs a shallow curtsy. "No, sir. I've been employed here less than a sennight."

"Your name?" I ask.

"Daisy." She says softly.

I furrow my brow. She doesn't look at all like a Daisy to me. The name sounds too common, and I suspect she is anything but typical. It's the confidence with which she speaks and meets my gaze. Unlike most of my staff, she appears neither intimidated by nor in awe of her employer. I want to question her further, but now is not the time. "Prepare some tea for Luna Duckling."

During my conversation with the maid, my visitor had relaxed a tad, perhaps because she no longer felt she was being scrutinized. I prefer it when the she-wolves who come to me don't have a nervous constitution. The maid strikes me as someone who doesn't. With a great deal of efficiency, she sets about preparing the tea.

"Milk and sugar?" she asks in a soft voice that holds a hint of gentility. While I wasn't born into the high packs, I have friends who was. I've accompanied them now and again to royal affairs and been introduced to enough of their acquaintances to recognize refinement when I hear it. I wonder how she came to be a servant.

"Please," Luna Duckling says.

I shouldn't be mesmerized, watching the delicate, unblemished hands pour tea, then milk, into the china cup decorated with pink roses… all my china reflects my mum's favorite blossoms… before adding two lumps of sugar and stirring all the contents. With a soft smile, she hands the cup and saucer to the married luna before turning her attention to me. "And you, sir?"

I lift my glass slightly. "I prefer my beverages with a bit more bite to them."

"Shall I pour you some more before I take my leave?" She asks.

No. That's what I should have said. I need to get her out of here so I can finish my business with Luna Duckling. After all, I have an appointment to keep. What I hear escaping my mouth, however, is yes.

What the devil is wrong with me? I once had no control in my life, and now I maintain power over every aspect of it. I certainly never say what I do not mean. Yet, I stop silently castigating myself the second she is near enough that I can inhale the soft fragrance of sweet violets and am reminded of my mother pointing out the delicate blossoms on our walks through the forest and the many times I'd plucked them as a gift to her. Our home always smelled of violets.

As she takes the tumbler, her warm bare fingers touch mine, and I go completely still, not even breathing, my eyes locking with hers, not so much from the shock of such an inappropriate encounter but the awareness it stirs to life, as though I can sense how glorious her entire body would feel nestled against mine.

Then the glass is gone, as is she, along with my wits. I can't recall any she-wolf ever having such a disconcerting effect on me. I watch her stroll to the sideboard. She removes the stopper from one decanter, gives it a sniff, and returns it to its proper place before giving another a try. That one she pours into my tumbler. She knows her liquors then. Expensive ones. She wanders back over to me and extends the glass. Taking more care in removing it from her grasp, I ensure no part of my hand touches hers.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" she asks.

"Not tonight." I nearly slam my eyes shut at the implication that there might be more on another night, more that is not within her realm of duties. The slow stroke of my hand along her spine, a brush of my lips over her throat, a lick of her skin. Dangerous journeys all. Forbidden. Treks I wouldn't enjoy because I do not take advantage of my servants. Ever, under any circumstances.

She gives a small bob. "Very good, sir."

"Close the door on your way out." I hate that I sound so brisk, nearly cross, but I am not accustomed to being unsettled by a mere slip of a she-wolf.

"Yes, sir." If she notes my brusque tone, she gives no indication. She gives another quick bob of a curtsy before wandering slowly from the room, and all I want to do is trail after her.

Dear Goddess. I toss back the scotch, noticing that she left some of her violet fragrance on the tumbler. Or maybe it's simply that the scent now permeates the room. Unfortunate that, because I need to stop thinking about her.

"Are you suddenly unwell?" a quiet, hesitant voice asks out of the ether.

I jerk my attention to Luna Duckling. I completely forgot about her. It is unlike me to lose my train of thought. What sort of spell has the captivating maid cast over me? "No, I'm fine. Where were we?"

"My husband's threats?" she replies meekly, although the high pitch of her voice at the end makes it sound as though she isn't entirely certain she is providing the correct answer.

At that moment, I hate the man for his ability to mentally beat down this she-wolf until she possesses no confidence whatsoever. I want to see the blighter rot and her liberated from him. "Right. Do you have children?"

"No." She shakes her head.

I am glad of that. Children and the custody of them bring additional complications. Not to mention the mental anguish they suffer when too young to fully understand what is happening.

"How will you provide for yourself, Luna Duckling? He will not be required to pay alimony since you will be the one found guilty of infidelity." I remind her.

"I've made arrangements to serve as an elderly widow's companion, should this come about so I can gain my freedom. As we get along famously, she will wait to fill the post until I know my fate." She tells me.

I am impressed that she has considered her financial position. The she-wolves I aid usually either return to the bosom of their families or find employment. One had been squirreling away her pin money, and after her divorce, I helped her invest it, so she receives enough in interest to live modestly but happily.

I make a motion to move toward the chair across from her, and her eyes widen in alarm. "As I mentioned earlier, you have nothing to fear from me, but I need you to understand what is at stake, and me not hovering over you will make the discussion easier."

She nods, takes a sip of her tea, and I imagine she is striving to position herself so she can toss the hot brew on me if the need arises. I am actually grateful for that bit of rebellion.

I cross over to the chair and sit, holding my tumbler with both hands. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs. "To be clear, this will not be a pleasant experience for you. Divorce from an Alpha is granted only when a******y is involved. It could take weeks before your husband discovers what we are about, but in order to meet with success, we will have to convince him and the courts that we were engaged in an illicit liaison. It will no doubt be reported in the newspapers. All of your family… parents, siblings, cousins… will hear of it. Your friends. Enemies. Strangers. It is likely to bring you disgrace. You need to think long and hard about the consequences and be certain you wish to tread this path."

In her hands, the teacup sits still and unmoving on the saucer. Not a single vibration. Not a single tremor. "If I do nothing, I think I will run mad. I have already given it considerable thought, Mr. Ace."

"Just Ace." I remind her.

She gnaws on her lower lip again. Sitting this close to her, I can see the slight scarring from previous gnawing. "I feel I have no choice."

"Are you certain he isn't having an affair?" I ask.

"Quite certain. But even if he was, a she-wolf must show two causes for divorce, while a man needs to show only one." She sighs.

As she is familiar with that condition of the regulation, perhaps she has already spoken with a solicitor or Luna Winters has explained the unfairness of the law to her. I have articulated several times to my friend, the Alpha of Brinsley, about the need to amend that portion of the act so she-wolves are not required to have more reasons to end a marriage than men. But the gentlemen who enact laws fear that if they make it too easy for a Luna to dissolve the arrangement, more fellows might find themselves turned out. I think that particular worry has an easy enough solution: don't be an arse to the she-wolf you took to the altar. "You've indicated he hasn't treated you well. Would you go so far as to say cruelly?"

She nods. "How do I prove it? It is merely my word against his. The servants will not speak out against him. He is a barrister and has far too much influence and power as an Alpha. But even if they did side with me, I don't have the necessary requirements to seek a divorce because, as I mentioned, he hasn't been unfaithful."

Perhaps not bodily, but to his vows to love, honor, and cherish. With a sigh, I lean back. "But you think he will seek a divorce when he discovers your infidelity?"

"I'm rather certain his pride will insist." Angling her head slightly and lowering her saucer to her lap, she studies me as though I were a new breed of puppy. "Why do you do this? Help she-wolves out of unpleasant circumstances? He is bound to sue you for damages for having relations with what he considers his. Other Alpha’s have. What do you gain?"

Without answering, I toss back what remains of my scotch and shove myself to my feet. "Give it grave consideration, Luna Duckling. If you are still of a mind to carry through with this plan, find an excuse to leave your residence without your mate and return here at nine in the evening on Tuesday next, at which time our affair shall commence."

The cup does give a slight rattle against the saucer then. "Luna Winters assured me…"

"Nothing shall actually occur between us, but we will give all appearances that it has. Once your husband begins to suspect, he will no doubt hire a detective to solicit proof. You are free to tell the truth and deny that we are involved. But you will not be believed. My reputation will ensure it."