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CHAPTER 10

“What is wrong with me?” Gemma whispered to herself, feeling both angry at Frederick and confused by her own feelings.

She’d stormed out of Frederick’s study, her heart pounding and her mind racing, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling inside her.

The kiss had been intense, unexpected, and electric. But what followed had been like a cold slap to her face. Frederick’s sudden detachment and his swift order for her to leave as if nothing had happened had left her raw and humiliated.

As she walked down the corridor her steps quickened with each stride, frustration building in her chest. She clenched her fists, fighting the painful sting of tears that threatened to spill.

Why had he kissed her if he was going to shut her out immediately thereafter? The way he had looked at her—thosemoments of vulnerability in his eyes—it had felt real. But then, just as quickly, he had retreated behind his cold, impenetrable wall.

She reached the end of the hall and paused, pressing her hands against her temples.

She barely knew him, and yet he had an uncanny ability to get under her skin, and make her feel things she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.

Gemma took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, her mind full of conflicting thoughts.

No,I will not let him get to me like this.

She had her own future and survival to consider, and she wasn’t about to let some brooding, infuriating Duke distract her from that.

As the storm outside raged on, she resolved to push aside what had happened between them.

It was a mistake; a brief moment of weakness.

But even as she completed the thought, the memory of his lips on hers and how his hands had pulled her close refused to fade from her mind.

By the time dinnertime arrived, Gemma had managed to calm herself, though her unresolved questions from earlier still lingered in her mind.

The dining hall was warm and lit by flickering candlelight, a contrast to the cold, tempestuous weather outside. Dark grey clouds loomed heavily over the estate, and the sound of rain hammering against the windows echoed throughout the room.

Vivian was already seated at the head of the table, looking as elegant and sharp as ever. When Gemma walked in she offered her a polite nod, but her eyes betrayed her curiosity, as if she sensed something was amiss.

Gemma took her seat beside her, silently grateful for the presence of someone who wasn’t Frederick. She hadn’t seen him since their charged encounter in his study and she wasn’t sure she wanted to face him yet. Her emotions were still too raw and too tangled, but her hope of avoiding him was short-lived.

Only moments later Frederick entered the dining hall, his tall frame casting a shadow across the room. His expression was, as always, cool and composed, though there was something in the way his eyes flicked toward her—brief but unmistakable—that made her stomach flip.

“Good evening,” he greeted both women curtly.

He sat down at the opposite end of the table, his silence as weighty as the storm outside. The air between them was thick with unspoken words.

Vivian, as perceptive as ever, immediately detected the uncomfortable silence between them. She glanced from Gemma to Frederick, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she scrutinized their body language and expressions.

“Well,” she said, breaking the silence with her usual cutting tone. “It seems this storm has no intention of relenting tonight.”

Frederick merely nodded, his gaze fixed firmly on his plate, though Gemma could feel his imposing presence from across the table.

Vivian continued, her voice measured as she placed her fork down and regarded her grandson with a raised brow. “Given the weather, it would be foolish for Gemma to attempt to leave tonight.”

Frederick’s jaw tightened slightly, though he didn’t lift his gaze. “I have already made that clear to her,” he said in that same detached, almost dismissive tone he had used earlier.

Gemma looked up at him and their gazes locked across the table like lovers’ hands.

The air hummed with static. She thought she detected something raw and conflicted beneath his stoic facade, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

She nodded in response, her voice quiet but firm. “Yes, Your Grace. I’ll stay.”

Gemma held his gaze, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to decipher the thoughts behind his dark blue eyes. But just as quickly, they both looked away, as if the moment was too much to bear.