The setting sun caught Karoline's eyes as she crested the last hill. Momentarily blinded, she flinched back from the glare just as the object of her long ride came into view.
Villa Ambrosia shone golden in the late afternoon sun, glistening like yet another of its owners fabled jewels. The palace - and it was a palace, for all that the Duke insisted his home was just a simple country estate - was a sprawling complex. The product of many generations trying desperately to outdo one another. The imported marble facade came courtesy of the Duke's grandfather. A vain and careless man, by all accounts, he had almost bankrupted the family. Only his early death had carried them from the brink of disaster.
He did have good taste, though. Costly though it had been, the approach was impressive. Even to a courier like her, who had seen the front and back of every major estate in three kingdoms, it still evoked a sense of wonder.
That was the point, of course. Unlike his forefathers, the current Duke had no lavish buildings of his own. No sprawling new wings to bear his name until some careless descendant got bored. His time was spent more carefully. Taking the scattered collection of whims, he ha subtly altered it. He had turned the oversized estate into a palace, and now every piece fit together seamlessly, as if it had been one careful construction from the start.
A smart choice, cheaper than his predecessors' oversized contributions, and far more effective. Clever, and all the more dangerous for it.
The path became cobbled as she passed the opened gate, the soft thud of her horse's hooves turning to sharp clops as they met the stately paving stones beneath. With a practiced eye, she noted that the wall was in disrepair. They showed signs of recent work, but it was all cosmetic. Even from the gates, she could see numerous spots where an intruder could easily scale their way inside. A nice looking wall, but it served no real purpose.
Carelessness, or merely supreme overconfidence? She wasn't sure which, but it went into report she was already composing in her head. Duke Mayburry was unlikely to act on the information, but he would certainly be glad to know it. What did that mean for the suspected alliance between Ambrose and the kingdom's marshal? Lord Mayburry had dismissed the suggestion. The marshal's hatred of the Duke was well known, after all, but Karoline wasn't so sure. If the King's army stood behind him, the wall really was a formality.
They opened the front doors for her. Only fitting for a Royal Courier, but some nobles were prickly about welcoming such a dusty, travelworn rider. No matter their title or position.
Though the disrespect rankled, Karoline never pressed it. However far she had risen, no one was likely to forget that she had come from peasant stock, and could go back just as easily if she crossed the wrong noble. Of course, working as Lord Mayburry's spy had its perks, and the money she had stashed away meant that her fall would not be so great as some might believe.
Still, no reason to pick a useless fight. Lord Mayburry was a solid employer, but Karoline was under no illusions about how far that would hold if her usefulness ended.
A woman greeted Karoline at the door, and it took every ounce of professionalism not to turn her nose up at the woman's appearance. Dressed in a mockery of noble elegance, the woman's thin gown pretended at fashion despite being its cheap and tawdry construction. A single layer of thin, all but transparent fabric was cinched into a far too tight corset. At her ears and neck the woman - certainly no lady - wore "gemstones" that were surely glass and cheap semiprecious rocks. The strand hung low, the largest nestled firmly in her oversized bosom, glistening as it caught the light with her every breath. The fabric at her chest was just barely opaque enough to conceal her charms, though sheer enough to tempt a more interested observer. Her face was artfully painted, but that was true for many whores.
Remembering her duty, Karoline stood stiffly and retrieved her satchel with a flourish.
"I am Karoline of Orchard Bend, courier of His Majesty's special service. I come bearing correspondence from His Lordship the Duke of Mayburry, to be delivered personally to Duke Ambrose."
"Right this way, your Ladyship," the woman curtseyed low, flaring out the front of her dress, much to Karoline's dismay.
"I'm no lady," Karoline said instantly, even as she followed the woman into a small waiting room.
A cozy study of sorts, whose fire was long lit and crackling by the time she entered. The walls were lined with books, though a quick glance suggested that they got little real use. Even with his Majesty the King's printer service, shelves full of unused books were quite the lavish spectacle, and many of these were handcopied. Astounding, though hardly unexpected for such an image conscious family.
"Can I get you anything while you wait?"
"Tea would be fine if that is available," Karoline said, "Or water elsewise."
No wine, that was a certainty. It was always a good idea to be clearheaded, and most especially here, considering the Duke's reputation.
The door shut, and Karoline took the opportunity to look around. Scanning the titles on the shelves, she found that they were mostly just old histories, with the occasional genealogy scattered in between, with a few theology texts to round the collection out. Dull, but quite proper for a man of his station. No wonder they'd been left to sit long enough to collect dust.
Above the fireplace hung a large portrait of the Duke. Lifesized, or nearly so, it captured the image of him standing proudly, sword in hand like some conquering hero. A rather sharp contrast to the political mastermind he was best known as. How arrogant, she thought, to display a picture of himself so prominently in his own home.
The door opened, and a serving girl walked in. A new girl, dressed in a brief black dress. Cut low like the doorkeeper's was, her bodice was tightly cinched, but not nearly so constricting as the other woman's had been. Over it she wore a thin, mostly decorative apron. Her skirts were quite short, overly fluffed with white petticoats that especially showed off her legs as she bent to pour the tea.
"Is there
anything
else I can do for you, my lady?" she asked when she had finished, still bowing slightly as she turned to address Karoline. She couldn't help but note how the dress left the servant's deep, heaving chest halfway exposed, nor the way the soft flickering lamplight played across her soft mounds.
"No, thank you."
"Are you certain?" she asked softly, leaning forward. "If there's anything you want, anything at all, I would be
very
happy to serve you. In
any
way possible."
Realizing that she had been staring Karoline forced her eyes upward to the servant's painted ruby lips and deep blue eyes. So wide and innocent, yet utterly pliant and willing. So easy to get lost in. For a moment, Karoline wanted what she was offering. Then she snapped to her senses.
"N-no. That will be all."
"Very well," the servant said with a wistful smile. "I'm sure the master will be with you shortly."
She turned to leave, skirts swishing across her plump behind with every swaying step.
Get a grip
, she told herself,
Just a few quick weeks on the trail and you're drooling over some underdressed tart? What's the matter with you. You aren't even into girls.
