Page 14

A licia reached her chambers, leaning against the door and inhaling deeply through her nose as she tried to calm her racing heart.

What was that? Flirtation? Whatever it was, I cannot allow it to happen again.

She shivered, remembering the feel of his skin against hers. She was becoming addicted to the intense desire in his eyes and embarrassed by the wild thoughts that flooded her each time he touched her.

When he looks at me that way, I could allow him anything. I lose my senses completely.

Pushing off the door, she tugged at her ridiculous dress, grateful to remove it, watching the soil that had gotten stuck in the folds scatter across the floor.

Alicia swallowed, realizing that she was smiling as she looked at it, enjoying the memory of their time in the gardens.

With a huff of irritation, she rang the bell for Rose. It would not be long before dinner; she needed to wash and dress before going downstairs. She was relieved that she could wear something finer for dinner and look like a proper duchess again.

And yet…

Was this really the perfect time to do so? She needed to repel the Duke as much as possible, and with the way things were between them, her plan did not appear to be working quite as she had intended.

Maybe I should swallow my pride and go down for dinner in an unusual dress, too.

The thought made her nervous, but it would serve a purpose. She could imagine how proud Bridget and Katie would be if she wrote to them about the monstrosities she had created and the horrible piece she wore for her first formal dinner.

What will Rose think?

“It does not matter,” she said to the room at large. “I am a duchess now; I can wear what I want.”

Still, when she told Rose her plan, her maid did not do a very good job of hiding her thoughts—she looked positively horrified.

But Alicia was determined. She would ensure that by the end of the week, the Duke, too, was horrified by her.

Perhaps I will be on my way home sooner than I planned.

“Are you quite sure about this, Your Grace?” Rose asked, her eyes wide and almost frightened as Alicia glanced at her in the mirror.

Perhaps it is too much.

Alicia forced herself to nod at her maid, determined to carry on her plan no matter how foolish she looked.

She had chosen to wear an enormous feather in her hair. Not only did it not go well with her gown, but it was also far too long to be considered appropriate for a quiet dinner at home.

The dress she had chosen was sapphire blue, and it brought out her eyes beautifully. But the effect was ruined by the deep scarlet sash she had added, making her look like a soldier.

“I think it looks excellent,” she said.

She would have burst out laughing at Rose’s expression if she herself was not so uncertain of what she was doing.

“Perhaps we could remove the feather, Your Grace. The sash looks… very fine.”

Alicia tugged at the folds in her skirt to keep from smiling. If anything proved Rose’s loyalty to her, this was it.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Rose. The feather will stay. Do you know what is being served for dinner?”

“Lamb, Your Grace, and roast potatoes.”

Alicia felt her stomach rumble at that. Steeling herself for the appalled looks she would undoubtedly receive from the servants, she left her room, feeling Rose’s disapproval all the way to the door.

Making her way down the stairs, her worst fears were realized when the housekeeper walked out of a side door, her keys in hand, flicking through them to find the right one. She looked up, already bowing her head in Alicia’s presence, before her mouth fell open in amazement.

Keep your head high. Soon, you will leave this place and will never have to see the woman again.

Alicia managed a smile and a brief nod, feeling the ludicrous feather sticking out of her hair bobbing wildly in place.

She kept moving, sticking her nose in the air as the footmen did their best to keep their eyes on the floor as she approached them.

She had not eaten in the dining room yet, and despite her hunger, she was extremely nervous by the time the doors opened. Would Seth demand that she go back to her room and change? Some men would.

The doors opened into one of the most imposing rooms she had ever seen.

It had dark red walls decorated with intricate wallpaper covered in roses and thorns. Gold-framed paintings looked down at her from every corner, the stern countenances of several men and a few women from the Radcliffe line staring at her reprovingly as she made her way into the room.

The floor was polished to a high shine around the edges. Footmen stood to attention along the walls, and the room was deathly quiet. Several servants turned to stare at her as she made her entrance.

Everything in the room was the same shade of red, and Alicia looked around, feeling tiny in the space and unworthy of her title.

The Duke was already seated at the head of the table, and to her fury, he barely looked at her before she was shown to her seat.

He did not seem alarmed by her appearance in the slightest. If anything, he still looked amused.

What is the matter with this man? He gardens, he makes friends with the birds, and he does not care what his wife looks like at dinner.

The final thought sent a rush of unease through her.

Perhaps that was it. He simply did not care. The Duke had been honest about his reasons for marrying her—she was only sitting here because of his father’s will.

That was not a pleasant thought.

She sat down on the polished wooden chair, the large candelabras set in the center of the table hiding her husband from view.

Alicia leaned to the right in order to look at him, taking in his blue coat and the smart cravat around his neck. Nothing of the relaxed man in the gardens could be seen in him now, and his eyes hardened the closer she leaned towards him as he motioned to the footmen to serve their meal.

The clock chimed above the fireplace, and Alicia cursed herself inwardly, remembering that she had intended to arrive late to vex him, but instead was right on time.

A soup was served first, and she lost herself in the gentle taste of the bright green mixture, wondering what it might be. It was the best soup she had ever had.

As the meal progressed, the silence stretched like a chasm between them. Alicia grew more irritated as she repeatedly glanced up at her husband but was unable to see his expression through the flickering candles.

“Could you move the candles to the side of the table, please?” she asked one of the footmen who came to fill her wine glass.

He looked to the Duke for permission, and her anger increased when her husband gave a short nod.

So it is only the Duke who can command his staff? Is that it?

The candles were moved, and finally, she could look him in the eye.

She was rather proud that it would give him a full view of the ridiculous feather, which was growing heavier by the second.

“I see you have dressed to match the room. How sensible,” the Duke remarked, before taking a mouthful of soup.

His dark gaze rested on her as she fought the flush that threatened to suffuse her cheeks.

She glanced down at the sash that hung across her shoulders. He was right—it was exactly the same shade as the walls.

Alicia hid a smile. Not the smug smile of approaching victory, but a genuine response to the teasing glint in his eyes.

She hadn’t meant to smile at him.

The Duke was full of surprises. When she had first met him, he had barely shown any emotion, not even during their wedding. Yet, now, on his lands, in his dining room, there was a playful flicker in his eyes that she was beginning to like more and more.

Shifting in her seat, she scolded herself, imagining that Katie and Bridget had joined them on either side of the long table.

What would they tell me to do?

Bore him. That was what they had suggested.

She considered what topic to choose, and a slow smile spread across her face as she hit upon it.

“Do you know my friend, Katie Hill? She is the daughter of the Baron Northwell.”

Seth buttered the roll on his side plate, glancing at her as his knife flashed in the candlelight.

“I know of her. She is a friend of yours, is she not? I am not well acquainted with her or her father, but the Baron frequents my club whenever he is in town.”

“I have known her for some time. She is currently choosing a dress for the Heartlands’ ball, and is in quite a lather about the most appropriate color.”

This will work. The Duke will definitely not wish to discuss fashion.

He waved his roll in the air before taking a neat bite of it. His manners were impeccable. She waited patiently for his eyes to glaze over.

“Is there a theme of any kind?” he asked.

Alicia hesitated. She had not expected him to engage in the discussion.

“Lady Heartland favors an autumnal color palette, but it is not a strict dress code. Of course, that makes it all the more difficult to interpret.”

The Duke nodded. He looked interested.

Alicia stared at him in confusion before rallying. She bit her lip as his eyes slowly followed the line of the feather up to its tip.

“One would not wish to look like all the other ladies,” she added, leaning into the details of the topic.

“And if one makes the faux pas of wearing dark colors, one would stand out terribly at such occasions. Many ladies favor pastels, particularly in the spring and summer months, but an autumn theme at this time of year? It does cause issues.”

“Have you advised her on what she should wear? I know that ladies often ask their friends for their opinions on such matters. You clearly have a…” He coughed. “Special take on fashion.”

Alicia chewed on her cheek to keep from smiling, and picked up her glass, trying to ignore the mirth in his eyes.

“I told her that she has always looked beautiful in fawn colors. I cannot wear browns, for I am too pale, but Katie has a natural tan and freckles on her cheeks. Her dark brown hair has streaks of copper, too. Ochre or light brown would complement her complexion.”

Seth nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “I think you are mistaken.”

She raised her eyebrows. “In what, Your Grace?”

He frowned at her, and she could not help but laugh. She was still getting used to calling him by his Christian name.

“In what way am I mistaken, Seth? ” she corrected, a shiver running through her at the satisfaction in his gaze.

“That you cannot wear brown or fawn. I have never seen you look plain or pale in anything, not even that… rather large headpiece.”

“It is a feather.”

“I am aware of that, but somehow it still suits you, even when you are weighed down by it, almost into your soup bowl.”

Alicia rolled her eyes, a smile spreading across her face against her will.

With a sigh, she pulled the feather off her head and laid it down on the table. A footman quickly came to retrieve it and walked away, as if he were keen to never lay eyes on it again.

“I confess it was larger than I imagined it would be.”

“If the buzzard drops any from his nest, I shall make sure to bring you some,” her husband said teasingly, and the tension between them vanished as if it had never been.

Seth had never had such fun at dinner before. Indeed, he rarely had such entertaining company.

Alicia was extremely funny, with a dry wit, and seemed entirely aware of her foibles.

The dress she had worn to dinner was madness personified, but Seth did not mind. Its cut had drawn his eye to her enticing breasts, and he had found it difficult to focus on anything else for most of the meal.

She is clearly trying to prove a point; I just have to work out what it is.

After the initial stiffness, he found her extremely easy to talk to. She seemed surprised by his interest in her friends, but he did not have many female acquaintances and found the gossip that spun around her small group very entertaining.

Lucas, Michael, and Isaac were diverting enough, but he had never invited them to dinner at the manor. Alicia’s lively personality had him rethinking that decision, wondering if he should make more of an effort with his friends.

I owe them so much and give them so little.

The thought left an unease in his gut that he could not shake, and he concentrated on Alicia’s lively chatter to distract himself.

“Bridget was furious,” Alicia was saying. “She does not allow others to speak down to her friends, and she ‘accidentally’ tripped him up during a waltz and made him fall over, upending a bowl of punch all over his head.”

The strange gloom that had spread through him at the thought of his friends was instantly chased away as he chuckled.

“I heard about that. Although I was told it was a terrible accident.”

“Oh, she said it was, but I know Bridget too well. No one insults her friends and gets away with it. She would not stand for such impertinence.”

“I shall try to remember that the next time we meet,” he said thoughtfully.

The dessert had long been cleared away, yet he had no desire to leave the room.

Seth swirled his wine as he watched her through the dancing light of the candles. He much preferred looking at her, enjoying the brightness of her eyes.

I will ensure that the candles are always pushed to the side of the table from now on.

It was rare for him to feel light in his soul, as if the world were not against him, but in her presence, he did.

Seth sat in that dining room for longer than he ever had before. The candles burned down almost to their wick, the fire crackling quietly in the background as it slowly faded to embers.

He could not remember an occasion where he had enjoyed himself so much, or when the dark thoughts in his mind had been chased away for so long.