Page 17 of The Beast’s Unwanted Duchess (Icy Dukes #1)

"The nerve of him," she whispered to herself.

But as much as she hated to admit it, Victor was beginning to have an effect on her—a troubling one she couldn’t shake off. Every time she talked to him, something changed. He left her off-balance every time, and thoughts of him seemed to linger just a bit longer.

She had no idea what to make of it.

"So, you read?"

Alice shifted in her chair and tilted her head sideways, looking at Victor as if reassessing him.

After their charged encounter in her bathroom the previous day, she was unsure if he was genuinely interested in her answer or merely attempting to tease her.

His question was simple, casual even, but something in his tone hinted at candid curiosity.

She hadn’t expected him to inquire, much less about her reading habits.

"Do you really want to know?" she questioned. They were seated in the dining room for breakfast that morning. Alice wasn’t really hungry, but she wasn’t ready to deal with Victor’s frustration if she declined.

"I asked, did I not?" he retorted, keeping his eyes on his plate. "In the bathroom yesterday...your maid left a book with the glass of wine."

"Oh," she said, playing with her food. "Did you enjoy reading the book, and sipping my wine, Your Grace?"

"Yes," he answered plainly.

Alice lifted her head in surprise as her fork hovered over her plate.

She hadn’t expected such an unapologetic response, and his calm confidence threw her off guard.

She looked down, carefully poking at her food, unsure how to respond.

It seemed as though Victor was immune to her teasing, whereas the opposite was the case with her.

"Was that your favorite book to read?" he asked. "It was my first time reading it, and I don’t think I liked it very much. I think I prefer books that engage the mind. Thought provoking reads."

Alice crossed her arms, fixing him with a challenging gaze. "And what about the book did you not enjoy, Your Grace? Mary Wollstonecraft’s book could not have possibly failed to engage your mind."

Victor took a measured sip of wine, his gaze steady on hers. "I don’t know what it was...but I couldn’t seem to connect with the challenge she posed, Alice," he replied. "I simply prefer ideas that...well, rather than overturning societal norms, examine them."

"Overturning?" she asked.

"I don’t entirely disagree with Wollstonecraft, Alice," he continued. "There’s a lot of truth in what she writes, but people...traditions... they don’t shift so quickly, especially when you are demanding for too much too soon."

Alice’s brows lifted, her fingers lightly tapping against her glass. "Wollstonecraft argues for the kind of education that would make women self-reliant, capable of reason. Isn’t that worth overturning things? To accommodate a new era where women’s lives aren’t dependent on societal views?"

"It’s easy to demand change, it’s harder to guide it," he explained. "Where is the plan? If we overturn things, what is the plan to fix it back together? I’m not saying her ideas aren’t valuable, Alice.

I agree that women deserve every right to learn.

It’s paramount. But to suggest society should instantly set aside generations of tradition without a clear plan, just simply because it reads good on paper sounds a bit absurd. "

"Or maybe it’s that society’s too comfortable, and her message makes people uncomfortable. That’s why she’s so essential. They tried to downplay her words by poking into her personal life but Wollstonecraft was a stubborn woman, and for good reason," Alice said.

Victor set his glass down on the table. "All right, take Rousseau’s book, Emile , for instance.

He details, step by step, how a boy should be educated to become a virtuous man.

The method is practical and acknowledges the importance of nature and experience in a person’s development.

But his approach is inherently traditional. "

"It doesn’t always have to be traditional, Your Grace," she continued to argue. "If something is to be effective, it needs to challenge laid down rules."

"That’s what I disagree with. It does not need to challenge everything to be considered impactful," he shot back. "Rosseau’s book encourages understanding, rather than confrontation, which, in the long run, could lead to a more stable transformation."

"But stability at what cost?" Alice countered, adjusting in her seat. "I think you only relate to Rosseau’s book because it is told from a man’s perspective."

"Alice, Rosseau encourages both men and women to develop virtues, but he insists each should play complementary roles, each in service to the other. Did you read the book?"

"I’ve heard about it," she answered. "Is that your favorite book?"

"It is not," he answered. "In fact, I don’t care much for the book, but I was trying to give you an example of the different approaches to change, and transformation. Now, given that Wollstonecraft’s book is your favorite, I’m not sure you’ll find Emile a good read."

"It’s one of my favorites, but not my favorite," she said. "I don’t think I have a particular book that I place above all else. I read a lot of books."

"So, what kind of books do you read more of?" he asked, returning to his food.

Alice pondered his question, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her glass.

"I find solace in fiction. It’s like an escape.

I could read a book for hours and forget to do anything else.

But I also have a soft spot for poetry. Sometimes, I wish I could write poetry the way John Keats does.

His ability to capture emotions and the beauty of nature is simply enchanting. "

"I could have guessed that," Victor said and sat back. "John Keats is a fine choice."

"I don’t know how I feel about his Ode to Nightingale.

Lavinia loves it but somehow it puzzles me.

Always leaves me thinking. Every time I read it, it makes everything seem so.

..fleeting. Like it doesn’t matter. Like.

..death is just waiting. Whenever it feels like it, it’ll come and make its choice.

Time isn’t your friend, and happiness might not last as long as you want it to. "

The room fell silent all of a sudden. It took Alice a moment to realize that she wasn’t talking to herself and had said those words out loud.

She looked up at Victor, who seemed to have a solemn expression on his face now.

He stared at her so intensely that she held her breath, scared at that moment.

She wanted to believe that he was probably lost in thought, staring at her blankly, but when she moved a bit, his eyes followed her.

The mood in the room had shifted and it was quite obvious. But Alice had no idea why. Had it been what she said? Her talk of death? Or had she talked too much? Her father always said she talked a lot, and it frustrated him sometimes.

"Your...Grace," she stammered, unsure of how to break the silence.

"Do excuse me," he said and rose to his feet in an attempt to leave the room.

Alice dropped her shoulders as a wave of defeat washed over her.

Each time they seemed to make progress, it felt like they took multiple steps back.

It was the first time she had ever enjoyed a conversation with him, and he, on the other hand, was ready to retreat, leaving her to grapple with the unspoken tension that he always seemed to leave behind.

"You’re just going to leave, Your Grace?" she asked, staring at the table.

Victor paused. "What?"

"There is a wall, Your Grace," she said, turning to him as she rose to her feet.

"A wall you seem to put up, and bring down whenever you please.

I am not asking you to open up to me, or talk about whatever it is that you seem to be guarding.

But it can get frustrating when you do things that I cannot understand and you fail to explain. Like the other day at the lake."

"Alice—"

"You offered a glimpse into your mind, but every time I reach out in return, it’s as if you retreat further into shadows. It is utterly confusing."

Without waiting for a response, Alice turned sharply on her heels and stormed out of the dining room, her heart racing. She had not expected to get so upset, but she couldn’t help it.

Victor wasn’t the only one confusing her with his actions. Her emotions were all over the place. There was a newfound stir in her heart that came and went as it pleased, and Alice knew she needed to deal with it as soon as possible.