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J ane remained in the manor for another half an hour or so, and by the time she left in her carriage, Alicia was satisfied that she looked much better, the ghostly pallor to her skin having faded.

But now that Alicia was alone, her thoughts were muddled and uncertain.

She was plagued by images of the Duke in the woods, his strong hands maneuvering her body against her will, his hot breath against her cheek.

Why did I not push him away?

Not only had her mind betrayed her, but her body also did, the first with that flush of desire and the second with disturbing thoughts about watching their children playing on the lawn.

Alicia was more determined than ever to enact her plan. Katie and Bridget had made some excellent suggestions, and she was going to put them into practice as soon as she could.

But as she reentered the manor, she noticed the housekeeper hovering at the entrance hall.

She was a woman in her early fifties, elegant and tall, with beautiful, glossy, dark hair. Her eyes were gray, although they were sharp and assessing as Alicia approached her.

“Mrs. Timmons, is it time for the tour already? I apologize if I kept you waiting. My sister did not feel well and needed to rest.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Your Grace. Is now a convenient time to show you your new home?”

“Now is a perfect time. I am most grateful to you.”

The housekeeper preceded her down the corridor. She wore a smart uniform of deep blue, fastened down the front with shining brass buttons. A set of keys hung from a belt at her waist, reminding Alicia just how vast the manor was.

As Alicia was already familiar with the entrance hall and the drawing room, the housekeeper took her to the morning room, dining room, and music room.

Alicia’s favorite was undoubtedly the music room. A small but compact space, with light streaming in through the high windows.

A pianoforte occupied the center, and the shelves lining the walls were overflowing with sheet music for her to play.

Having tried the violin and the piano, Alicia would not say she was proficient at either, but the room inspired her to resume practicing.

Mrs. Timmons was matter-of-fact and brisk in her manner, and Alicia was unsure whether the woman disliked her or treated everyone the same way. Maids darted out of her path as they passed through the rooms, and she seemed to inspire fear wherever she went.

Alicia was finding it rather disconcerting, until it occurred to her that perhaps it was not Mrs. Timmons they were afraid of—but their new Duchess.

The final room they entered was the boudoir behind her bedchamber—somewhere Alicia had not yet examined in detail.

A magnificent golden screen was in the corner, and the decorations were all light yellows and golds, giving it a warm, welcoming air that her darker bedroom did not possess.

She was pleased to see that there was plenty of space for her to begin her plans for the day.

She turned to Mrs. Timmons to find her checking her watch, as though she had somewhere else to be.

“I wonder, Mrs. Timmons, are there any fabrics that I might use?”

Mrs. Timmons raised her eyebrows, looking surprised, but immediately schooled her features into a professional mask.

“Yes, Your Grace. There are some fabrics in the embroidery room that can be brought to you, as well as some muslin and silks in storage. If you like, I can ask the seamstress to attend you.”

“Thank you, but I will be using them for my own purposes. I would not need anything too fine. The dresses that were sewn for me are very beautiful. Thank you for having them put in my wardrobe before my arrival.”

Mrs. Timmons’ stiff expression did not change, but her shoulders lowered a fraction. “You are most welcome, Your Grace. I shall have the fabrics brought to you shortly.”

“I am grateful, and I appreciate you taking the time to give me the tour.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

The housekeeper took her leave, but not without a backward glance at her. She undoubtedly thought Alicia very strange for requesting fabrics and no seamstress, particularly ones that were not all that fine.

If the whole household thinks I am quite mad, then all the better.

Alicia went to her bedchamber to look through her older dresses and decide what to do with them.

Bridget had suggested altering them, and she had no intention of destroying the beautiful gowns she had been gifted upon her arrival.

There was an older, pale pink dress in her trunk that she had not worn in some time. It had a tiny hole in one of the sleeves, and she had intended to have it mended some weeks ago.

Looking at it now, it seemed very drab compared to her finer gowns.

She went back into the boudoir and draped the dress over a chair. Looking at it made her hands twitch, wondering what the Duke would think when he saw her in it.

Doubts rose at the back of her mind. Was this wise? Did she really wish to antagonize him in such a way?

But even as the doubts surfaced, defiance rose with them.

I cannot stay married to a dangerous man whom I did not choose. No matter how good that kiss might have been.

It was only a few minutes later when Rose joined her, carrying four bolts of beautiful brocade in deep burgundy, charcoal grey, and green.

Alicia balked at the idea of cutting them up into what she had intended, but at the bottom of the pile, she found a simple gray muslin that would be just the thing.

“Your Grace, that fabric is often used for the servants’ uniforms. I had not intended to bring it!” Rose protested, about to pull it from Alicia’s hands.

Alicia shook her head. “This will do. Thank you, Rose. I can see to things from here.”

Her maid stared at her for a few seconds, looking confused, before nodding once and leaving the room.

Alicia went to the dresser, where the scissors had been placed, and got to work.

There was no question of wearing the dress she was going to sew in public, but she could most certainly wear it in the house and embarrass her husband in the process.

About an hour later, Alicia was beginning to rethink her grand plan.

The pink muslin gown lay massacred on the floor, sewn in uneven sections with panels of gray mixed through it.

The sleeves were still intact, but the skirt was two-tone, and the cheap gray fabric was already beginning to fray around the edges.

Bridget had vastly overestimated Alicia’s talents in this regard. It had been years since she had picked up a needle and thread. She had pricked herself three times, getting blood over some of the fabric at the back, and she was not sure whether the dress would even fit her.

Glancing at the door and dreading leaving the room, she picked up the dress, half expecting the fabric to fall to her feet and the entire gown to disintegrate.

Surprisingly, it remained attached, and she held it against herself in front of the mirror.

Well, there is nothing left to do but try it on.

Once she had pulled it over her head, she stared at herself in the mirror and tried not to laugh out loud.

I look ridiculous.

The bodice was striped in two different colors, with a long gray piece draping over the front and hanging too low on the floor.

The pink bottom of the gown now had a large slit in it that exposed her petticoats to the world, giving the whole ensemble the look of a stage costume more than anything else.

I cannot go outside in this.

She swallowed, smoothing a hand over the dress and reminding herself what this was all for.

Her plan would work. There was no chance the Duke would not be appalled by her appearance.

She imagined walking into his study wearing the dress, his dark eyes rising to look at her.

That heat she had grown to recognize in his gaze would drift down to the floor before he grimaced, rising from his chair, his face a mask of disgust.

“Go back to your room and change, before I punish you for shaming me in this way…”

Then, he would grip her arms, turn her to the wall, push her against the hard surface, and?—

No. Not again! This is precisely why I must get away from him.

With determination thrumming in her veins, she lurched for the door and opened it before she could have second thoughts.

Walking through the narrow corridor to the stairs, she saw no one until she reached the landing. A young maid was ascending below her, carrying an armful of linens.

The girl’s eyes went wide with alarm when she saw Alicia, and then flickered with surprise as they drifted down to the bottom of the dress and back up again. Her mouth twisted before she could mask her expression.

“Your Grace,” she muttered, scurrying up the stairs behind her. There was a quiet huff of laughter as she disappeared through a door above.

Alicia tried to suppress her blush, hoping she would not encounter the entire staff before finding the Duke.

They will all think I am a simpleton.

She remembered where his study was, from when the housekeeper had pointed it out during the tour.

It had not been necessary for her to enter the study, and she remembered what Bridget had said about how much men disliked being disturbed.

If only I had a cup of tea to spill all over his ledgers. I am sure that would also vex him a great deal.

With that in mind, she walked to the door and burst inside without knocking, only to hear a soft cry from a different maid kneeling by the hearth.

The maid stared at Alicia for a few seconds, open-mouthed, before hurriedly turning back to the grate and briskly sweeping out the ashes in a plume of pale smoke.

There was no sign of the Duke inside, and Alicia took a moment to look around at his sanctuary before retreating.

The study was an elegant room, unmistakably masculine in tone, with dark green across every surface and deep mahogany wood. Books lined the walls, and she longed to peruse them and discover what the Duke liked to read in private.

But then I would get to know him, and I have no interest in such things.

She backed out of the room, watching the maid very deliberately, who had kept her eyes trained on the floor.

Turning around, she walked through the rest of the house, which was blissfully empty, and decided that if she could not find her husband, she would at least put her dress to good use and go into the gardens.

If she ruined this dress, it would not matter a jot, but none of her other gowns would ever be suitable.

She rather liked the idea of gardening and breathing in the fresh air of the country, so she made her way toward the edges of the house, listening intently, should she come upon the Duke unexpectedly.

She stepped out onto the terrace and down the stone steps toward the flowerbeds, watching the rose buds bobbing in the breeze.

There was a robin with a bright red breast flitting about over the soil, and she smiled at him, nodding in greeting.

He cocked his head, one beady eye fixed on her as though considering whether she was a threat.

He was very still, his breast rising and falling rapidly, and then he went back to burrowing his beak into the earth.

At least he does not seem horrified by my attire. He will be the only one who does not gossip behind my back about it, too.

Catching a movement to her right, Alicia turned and froze in place.

The Duke was a few feet from her, kneeling beside one of the flowerbeds, his breeches stained from the wet grass, his sleeves rolled over his thick forearms.

He had a trowel in hand and was planting some bulbs in the beds.

Alicia found it impossible to move. Never in her wildest imaginings did she think she would see him outside, actually tending to the garden instead of sitting in it.

What sort of duke kneels in his garden to plant flowers?

The Duke looked up, and Alicia sucked in a breath as she saw the outline of his muscular chest beneath his shirt.

He was bending forward, the angle making the fabric hang off him. She could see all the way down to his navel.

The expanse of muscles across his torso was impressive, the smooth edges of them catching the light in mesmerizing, rippling shadows.

She swallowed as he noticed her.

He leaned back, his forearm resting against his knee, the trowel held loosely in his hand. Slowly, he ran his gaze over her in an assessing way that heated her body from head to toe.

Now that she had seen him again, she felt doubly foolish.

It was discouraging to realize that she had enjoyed his good opinion. She liked seeing him admire her clothes.

There would be no question of his doing so now.

It is a good thing I repulse him. That was the entire purpose of making the dress in the first place!

Alicia jutted her chin and stalked toward the flowerbed a little way away from him, trying to ignore the amusement in his eyes.

The dark heat that had sprung up between them in the woods seemed to have been conjured unbidden from the air, and she was acutely aware of his presence, of his every movement.

The weight of his gaze was a physical touch as she knelt on the ground some distance away, determined not to look at him.