Page 23 of The Beast’s Unwanted Duchess (Icy Dukes #1)

CHAPTER TWELVE

A week later...

" M aureen...what are the rumors saying now?"

Alice leaned against the stone wall of the newly constructed orangery, taking in the sight of her finished masterpiece.

The structure gleamed under the fading light, its glass panes reflecting the colors of the setting sun.

The pots and containers, neatly arranged inside, stood bare with seeds that Alice couldn’t wait to see blossom.

After months of planning and construction, she could finally claim she had an orangery. There was so much she could do with the space, and she looked forward to it. The garden was fully restored, and now the orangery was done. She was officially finished with the renovations.

"The negative rumors are starting to fade, Your Grace," Maureen answered. "People are beginning to believe you and the Duke are truly in love after the ball. It seems your dance together caught the attention of many, and now they’re starting to think that perhaps, the honeymoon phase went on for far too long, that’s the reason you didn’t attend any social gatherings last season. "

Alice scoffed. "That’s what they’re saying? That I have been having too much fun?"

"Yes, Your Grace," she answered.

"I suppose that’s good," she said quietly. "I didn’t expect one ball to completely change the notion of our reputation, but I’m glad it did."

"Are you attending the tea party Lady Crowell invited you to, Your Grace?" Maureen asked. "It will help strengthen your efforts."

"I must," she answered. "If I want this new and improved reputation to stick, I’d have to keep up appearances."

It had been a week since the Crowell Ball. A week since she and Victor danced, and also a week since they last had a proper conversation. The wall was back, and Alice would be lying to herself if she claimed that she didn’t see it coming.

This time, the wall was higher than it had ever been.

They didn’t eat together anymore. Victor was never around for them to have breakfast, lunch, or dinner together.

On the days when he was around, he would be too busy in his study, not wanting to be disturbed.

Alice had tried to talk to him, but she could see he was avoiding her.

This time around, Alice tried not to let it faze her.

She had expected more. She had expected that after their conversation at the ball, Victor would be more cordial, but instead, he had shut her out completely.

In a way, she blamed herself for it. She blamed her actions.

If only she stayed in her room that night.

If only she hadn’t invaded his privacy and fallen asleep on his bed, things might have been different.

Even though she had been wanting to talk to Victor, perhaps to apologize for going into his room, she had not found the right time to do it.

Until now. The orangery was done, and all the construction was finally over.

It was the perfect time to ask Victor to come and see her work, to share, even briefly, a moment of pride and accomplishment with him.

He was the owner of the estate, after all.

The decision to keep the renovations as they were or make any changes was up to him.

"Is the Duke still in the study?" Alice asked Maureen.

"Yes, Your Grace," she answered.

"Prepare a bath for him in the bathroom," Alice said to Maureen. "The new bathroom. Prepare it like you would do for me."

"Yes, Your Grace," she answered and walked away. Alice silently rehearsed her words as she made her way toward his study, her heart pounding at the thought of facing him for the first time since that night. She wasn’t entirely sure if she wanted to apologize or if, deep down, she simply needed to clear the air between them—to find some sense of understanding.

She had already resolved not to push him any further, to avoid stirring up memories that might haunt him.

It was one of the reasons she had kept her distance and quietly accepted his silence.

She hated seeing him so troubled. It was a side of him that lingered in her mind ever since that night. And the last thing she wanted was to be the cause of any more pain.

As she reached the door, she took a steadying breath and knocked. A brief silence hung in the air before his voice answered from within, low and restrained.

"Enter," he said.

Alice stepped inside, her hands clasped in front of her to keep them from trembling. She saw Victor’s eyes instantly widen when he saw her as he rose to his feet. He stared at her, silent, waiting for her to say something.

"The construction is done," she started by saying. "The orangery is ready."

Victor lowered his head and placed the document in his hand down. "I heard. Roberts informed me this morning."

"I wanted to show it to you," she continued. "Perhaps, also show you other places in the house that I renovated. It’s your home after all. You should see it. I made a lot of changes."

"That’s all right. It’s your home too," he said, avoiding her gaze. "You can do whatever you want. Change whatever needs to be changed."

"I still want you to see it," she insisted, stepping forward with her fingers on the desk. "I’ll take you on a tour and show you. Maybe afterwards you can take a bath. You’ve been working for so long, it’ll help you relax."

"I’m all right, Alice, thank you," he said.

It wasn’t working. Her heart sank, but she refused to let the frustration show. It had taken a lot of courage to approach him. To do it, she had to push aside her jumbled-up feelings that she had failed to sort out. But he didn’t budge.

"Are you like this because I climbed into your bed without your permission?" she asked with a quivering voice. "Because I held you?"

Victor lifted his head. "What?"

"You’ve not spoken to me in days," she explained. "I know what I did was wrong, but it couldn’t have been so unforgivable, I am your wife after all. I didn’t mean to cause you to have nightmares, but I was trying to help and I did."

"Alice, how could you have possibly caused my nightmares?" he questioned.

"I made you talk about your past at the ball," she said to him, fighting to keep the tears at bay but failing. "That’s why you had a terrible dream."

"I have terrible dreams every other day. It’s the reason I hate sleeping, that has nothing to do with you, and this has nothing to do with that night," he revealed.

"Then what is it?" she questioned, letting her frustration show.

"I am not like you, Victor. You can easily mount your wall whenever you please but I cannot do that.

My walls are already down and I cannot put them back up, and that frustrates me because I should be angry with you for playing with me like this. I am no good at it."

"Alice, let’s not do this," Victor said quietly.

"Do what?" she asked as the tears began to fall. "You’re confusing me, Victor and I don’t like to be confused. I am trying to understand you, but you keep slamming the door to your mind in my face. Why?"

Alice’s chest tightened as she watched Victor struggle to find the words.

She had known him long enough to recognize the look in his eyes.

That vulnerability that seldom made an appearance.

She had spent so much time trying to break through, to understand the shadows that seemed to haunt him.

But here they were again, facing the same closed doors, and it was tearing her apart.

Victor took a step toward her, his hand outstretched, but she instinctively stepped back.

"I am not crying because I’m hurt," she lied. "I am crying because I am angry. There’s a difference."

Victor took another step toward her, undeterred by her attempt to maintain a distance between them.

His hand reached for her cheek, and he cupped her face, his fingers warm and gentle as they brushed away a tear.

Alice stiffened, caught off guard, but he didn’t let go, his gaze softening as he held her face.

"I don’t like that you cry when you’re angry," he murmured, his thumb tracing along her cheekbone with a tenderness that sent a shiver down her spine.

Alice swallowed, her breath hitching as she felt herself melt into his touch despite every instinct telling her to keep her distance. He was only going to act nice to her and disappear behind his wall again.

A silence settled between them. Slowly, Victor pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her to his chest. She sank into his embrace, her own arms winding around him as she let herself relax in his warmth.

His hand stroked her hair gently, and he exhaled so deeply that she felt his body relax.

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the tension between them softening into something warm and unspoken.

Deep down, though, Alice couldn’t shake a small, nagging fear—that this was merely a reprieve, a momentary gesture to soothe her frustration before he withdrew again.

But right now, with his arms around her and his heart beating close to hers, she didn’t want to think about it.

She wanted to stay in this moment, to feel his touch without questioning it, to hold onto the rare vulnerability he was offering her. So she let herself relax into his embrace, closing her eyes and letting go, if only for now.

"If it’s not to your satisfaction, we can have the workers do it again," Victor said.

It didn’t take a lot of effort after bursting into tears for Victor to agree to the tour. If Alice had known how persuasive her tears would be, she wouldn’t have waited so long to make up with him.

Now, standing in the orangery, she felt a sense of exhilaration that washed away her earlier frustrations. A part of her was ashamed that she had been unable to control her tears, but the other part was glad she let her emotions show.

"No, it’s perfect this way," she explained. "It’s just how I imagined it."

Victor raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"