Page 24 of The Beast’s Unwanted Duchess (Icy Dukes #1)

"I am," she beamed. "So, what do you think of all the renovations? Is there anything you want changed?"

They had spent about an hour on the tour, Alice leading Victor through the house with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

After two years of living there, each room now held a piece of her heart, a reflection of her visions.

She pointed out the details, the new curtains in the drawing room, the polished wood floors, the vibrant colors she had chosen for certain spaces, and why she had chosen them…

Victor had listened to her intently. At some points, she had seen approval in his eyes but never disapproval. He seemed pleased, and the thought sent butterflies dancing in her stomach.

She had saved the orangery for last because it meant the most to her. Victor was pleased with how it turned out. He had said so, and she could see it. He asked a lot of questions, all to make sure that she was satisfied with the outlook.

They were seated inside, tucked beneath a trellis adorned with climbing vines that reached toward the glass roof.

Two comfortable chairs faced each other around a small table draped with a soft, embroidered cloth, a detail Alice had added for warmth and charm.

The spot was designed for quiet moments, a sanctuary where she could sit and enjoy the scenery.

"I’m asking because I saw that you changed the renovations done in your room and in the study. If there is any part of the estate that you want to?—"

"I don’t want anything else changed," he said with a smile. "I’m proud of what you’ve done here. I’m proud of you, Alice."

Alice felt her heart swell at his words, a rush of warmth flooding her. His pride was a balm to her earlier insecurities, the pat on the back that she needed.

"Thank you," she said, fiddling with her fingers.

Alice took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts as she sat by Victor’s side.

The silence that had settled between them wasn’t uncomfortable, so she let it linger, enjoying the momentary peace.

But it didn’t take long before a thought occurred to her.

She had received a letter from her parents days ago, tucked away in her desk.

"I got a letter from my parents a few days ago," she began, breaking the silence between them. "They want to come for a visit soon since they have never been here."

"That sounds like a good idea," he answered, nodding. "When are they arriving?"

"I haven’t…written back to them," she answered, hesitating. "I was hoping to speak to you about it first."

Victor’s eyebrows furrowed, his expression shifting to one of mild concern. "Alice, you don’t need my permission to invite your parents over."

"I wanted to make sure you were all right with it," she said to him. "I was hoping that when they arrive, we can all have dinner…together."

"That’s fine," he said. "Just tell me when."

"Thank you," she said, then turned to face. "Right, I’ve always been meaning to ask you this. Since we are discussing my parents, perhaps I can ask now."

Victor sat up and interlocked his fingers on the table. "Ask away."

"When the rumors began," she started by saying as she leaned forward. "The rumors that I was dead. Did my papa visit you to ask about me?"

Victor paused to think. "He wrote me a letter to ask about your wellbeing and I wrote back telling them that you were alive and well."

"A letter?" she questioned with widened eyes. "He sent one letter? He didn’t confront you?"

Victor shook his head. "Did they not write to you?"

Alice sighed. "No," she answered. "My sister wrote to me, and I wrote back, but she is married and lives in Northern England, so she had no idea there were rumors. I’m guessing once my papa confirmed from you that I was alive, and he heard from Lavinia and Emma, he didn’t bother to check in on me directly. "

"You’re not close to your father, I presume?" Victor asked.

Alice feigned a smile and rose to her feet. "I’m not sure," she answered.

"Not sure?" Victor echoed and rose to his feet, too. "That sounds complicated."

"It is," she admitted, folding her arms as if to shield herself. "You see, my sister married first. Before that, she had always been the favorite child. She was…perfect, if I dare say. Brilliant, polite, very modest. It wasn’t a surprise when she got married to the Earl."

Alice sighed, unable to hold her smile. "I was always…awkward. It wasn’t on purpose, I promise. No matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t be her. I’m guessing that was my mistake from the start. I tried so hard to be someone else, and I realized who I was later in my life."

Victor sat on the edge of the table and crossed his arms. "How were you so different?"

"Oh, in many ways," she said. "Catherine has always been prettier. She also cared a lot about balls, and dancing. I didn’t. I tried, but I really hate balls. I was always so clumsy and whenever I got nervous, I would step on people’s toes. It wasn’t a good look for me, so then I started hiding.

I hid so much that I became a wallflower. "

"My papa was livid when that rumor started," she continued. "That no one was asking for my hand because I was clumsy and unladylike. I didn’t mind at first. At least I wasn’t forced to dance with anyone after that. But then my papa started getting agitated. He couldn’t understand how he gave birth to polar opposites. "

Victor was quiet, still. The subject of her family—more importantly, her father’s love—was sensitive for her, so she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. Instead, she stared at her hands, twisting her fingers nervously.

"I think… I think my papa expected me to follow my sisters’ path, and when I didn’t, he was disappointed in me," she continued, her voice trembling slightly.

"When he finally found me a match, he started smiling at me again. At the time, I didn’t want to marry the Earl, but I was willing to do anything to please him.

Then the Earl broke off the engagement, and suddenly I became your responsibility.

It felt like I was being handed off, like I was no longer his concern but yours to manage. "

Alice took a deep breath, summoning the courage to meet his gaze. But when their eyes locked, she was met with an unreadable expression on his face. She couldn’t gauge what he was thinking.

"I’m sorry, I said too much," she said and laughed awkwardly. "I don’t even know why I started talking about my family."

Victor shook his head. "You’re not something to manage, Alice," he finally said. "Your father had no right to compare you to your sister. You are your own person, and you are brilliant."

Alice looked away briefly, flustered. "You don’t have to say that, but thank you."

His gaze drifted to her lips, a subtle shift that sent a flutter of awareness racing through her. He remained silent for a moment, his expression still difficult to decipher. Alice stood in front of him, caught between the urge to close the distance and the fear of what might happen if she did.

As if he read her thoughts, he reached for her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers as he gently pulled her closer. She found herself standing between his legs, the space between them shrinking as she looked down, her heart racing.

"Alice, look at me," he whispered, his hand finding the small of her waist, pulling her closer.

The warmth of his touch sent a rush of emotions coursing through her, and she met his gaze, her heart pounding.

His eyes were intense, filled with a mixture of longing and sincerity that made her breath catch.

Alice felt her heart race as Victor cupped her cheek with his other hand, sending a jolt of lightning through her.

His thumb brushed against her skin in a tender gesture.

When he leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a soft kiss, it felt like the world around them had stopped.

Everything stopped. Even her breathing stopped.

His kiss was tentative at first, sweet and gentle, awakening something deep inside her. She found herself leaning into him, basking in the warmth of the moment. But just as she began to lose herself in the moment, he pulled back slightly, searching her eyes as if gauging her reaction.

His gaze made her heart flutter, and before she could think, he was kissing her again, this time with an urgency that took her breath away.

Alice tried to keep up the pace, but in actuality, she was only relying on her emotions.

She wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Her hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer.

But suddenly, he broke the kiss again, standing up and creating a momentary distance between them. Alice felt a pang of loss, sad that it had ended so soon, but then he reached for her again, drawing her in closer. When their lips met once more, she didn’t hold back.

She melted against him, lost in the sensations that overwhelmed her senses.

The kiss deepened, fierce and passionate…

stirring emotions she didn’t know she had deep inside her.

Alice felt as if she were floating; she couldn’t think.

Everything that plagued her thoughts was swept away in the heat of the moment.

Finally, he broke away again, both of them panting, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breath. Alice’s mind raced, overwhelmed by the intimacy of what had just happened. He cupped her face with both hands, caressing her cheeks.

They stood there, both panting, their hearts racing, and at that moment, she knew that her feelings for him had crossed a line she couldn’t uncross.

"Victor…" she whispered, clutching onto his shirt.

"Yes, Alice?" he answered breathlessly.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You can."

"Why did you decide to marry me?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and palpable. Victor pulled back slightly, the tenderness of their intimacy giving way to a tension that made Alice’s heart race for an entirely different reason. She worried, wondering why her question had caused such a change in the moment.

"Why did you decide to marry me?" she repeated, her voice even softer now. It felt vulnerable to ask, yet the question burned within her, demanding to be voiced. She needed to understand the choice that had bound them together, especially now, in the wake of their kiss.

"My father… he added a clause to his will. I must marry before I can access the rest of my fortune."

The words hit Alice like a cold gust of wind, stealing the breath from her lungs. She blinked at him, searching for a hint of a joke, a sign that this was all just some cruel misunderstanding. But Victor’s gaze remained resolute, devoid of the warmth that had just ignited between them.

"That was the only reason you got married?" she asked, taking a step back. "For…money?"

Victor made to take a step forward but stopped, his expression caught between frustration and vulnerability. "Yes," he said, his voice strained. "That was the reason. I’m not looking for love, Alice. I can’t?—"

"You’re not looking for love?" she interrupted, the words slipping out, half incredulous, half wounded.

Alice felt her anger rising, unexpected and unsettling, tightening her chest and sending a flush to her cheeks.

She knew, logically, that this had always been a marriage of convenience, an arrangement crafted for necessity rather than desire.

She’d accepted that even though she always wanted to know the true reason…

or so she thought. But after their kiss, after the moment they just shared, his confession felt like a betrayal, piercing and raw.

He exhaled, eyes searching hers, as though he, too, was struggling to find the right words. "I don’t think I’m capable of it," he admitted softly. "I can’t give that to you."

"You can’t or you won’t?" she questioned angrily. "Do you know how utterly ridiculous you sound right now, Victor?"

"Alice—"

"Why did you just kiss me then?" she stammered. "What was that? You must have felt something."

Victor’s gaze softened, almost pleading, yet distant, as if he was already slipping away. "I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a sharp breath, Alice turned on her heel, unwilling to let him see the pain flickering in her eyes.

She could barely see the path in front of her with the tears in her eyes, but she kept walking.

The heat of his words washed over her, and the sting of his excuse cut deeper than she expected.

How could he reduce the intimacy of their kiss to that?

The hope she’d clung to for him, for them, crumbled, taking with it all her strength.

Once she got to her room, her legs gave way, and she sank to the floor, her hands resting limply in her lap. A single tear traced down her cheek, then another, until she could no longer hold back the flood of emotions she’d tried so hard to contain.

"That cursed wall," she sobbed.