Page 9 of The Beast’s Unwanted Duchess (Icy Dukes #1)

CHAPTER FIVE

" I see you’re alive and well," Victor said, crossing his arms as his gaze settled on her.

They were alone in the drawing room. Alice stood by the door, her fingers gripping the curtains as though they were the only thing keeping her steady.

Victor cherished his solitude above all else.

The rumors and whispers that followed him like a shadow were a small price to pay for the peace he found in his own company.

He had long accepted his reputation as a beast, feared by society, and cared little for what others thought of him.

His darkened reputation, fueled by rumors of cruelty and coldness, never bothered him.

They were baseless gossip, though he knew he had a cruel streak and a quick temper.

Keeping his distance from the ton was a deliberate choice, far from their empty pleasantries and judgmental eyes.

But when it came to Alice, things were different.

Her silence, her refusal to show herself in society, had only fueled the fire of the rumors.

It didn’t matter that the gossip wasn’t true.

By saying nothing, Alice made it seem real.

At first, Victor had dismissed it all, relying on updates from Roberts to know Alice was managing fine.

But recently, the shift was undeniable. People who once feared him were now approaching him with letters and visits, encouraged by the scandal surrounding his wife.

Victor’s gaze lingered on Alice for a moment, taking her in.

She looked well but seemed to have lost some weight, yet not as bad as the rumors were saying.

Her honey-brown hair was neatly tied back, leaving her face fully exposed.

Her pale skin, smooth and unblemished, contrasted sharply with the intensity in her blue eyes.

..eyes that were still filled with defiance.

Like she was ready to take whatever he could possibly throw.

She looked well. Oddly, Victor was relieved by that. He wasn’t one to care about anyone else.

"I could say the same of you," she replied. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your sudden appearance, Your Grace?"

Victor’s eyes narrowed slightly, his posture rigid. "Don’t play coy with me, Alice. You know exactly why I’m here."

He had expected this. The confrontation had been brewing for some time, and frankly, he didn’t care for the theatrics.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the biting irony of the situation.

He had two years of peace, of solitude—something he valued deeply—and now he was dragged back into this mess. And for what? More rumors?

He crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps, watching her grip the curtains tightly as if she could hold herself together by sheer force.

"I decided to just check to see if my wife is still alive, despite what the rumors say," he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Imagine my surprise seeing that you’re breathing after all! Did it not cross your mind to inform people, your family for instance that you are alive and well?"

Alice scoffed, and Victor watched as the flicker of fear in her eyes slowly dissipated, replaced by a defiant glare.

She crossed her arms, her posture shifting.

"Did it not cross your mind to give me an explanation for two years of silence?

What kind of person simply vanishes without a word and expects everything to be as he deems fit? "

Victor scoffed, too. Her words hit him like a slap, but his expression remained blank, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She rendered him speechless for a few seconds.

What else could she say? That he’d been cruel to leave her here alone?

That he was even crueler to not contact her for two years?

It had been a calculated plan, one that spared them both unnecessary misery.

It was all right that Alice never understood, and he couldn’t blame her.

Only he knew what he was running from.

Victor’s jaw tightened and his gaze hardened.

"I thought you would be pleased that I wasn’t here breathing over you?

I figured everything would run smoothly.

You stay on your own, performing the duties required of you, and I do whatever it is I want.

But it seems I was wrong, because you’ve been doing an excellent job of ruining things yourself. "

"Your reputation was already in tatters before I arrived. Don’t blame me for what you’ve done to yourself," she retorted.

"I have never been accused of murdering a wife," he said. "That’s a first, and forgive me for being unenthusiastic about having an additional rumor added to the pile. Why are you not attending any social gatherings?"

"It’s my choice. I don’t feel like it," she answered.

Victor raised his eyebrows. "You don’t feel like it? Are you forgetting that you are Duchess of Ravenmoor?"

"Oh, I know who I am. You are the one that seems to have forgotten that you are the Duke and that you, too, have responsibilities," she shot back, her glare unwavering. "...And that you owe me answers for two years of silence."

Victor was taken aback by her boldness, and he struggled to mask his surprise at the sudden change in her demeanor.

It was pretty obvious that she was annoyed.

But he couldn’t understand why she was so angry.

Judging from how terrified she had been of him, he reckoned that giving her freedom would make her more comfortable.

"I never treated you like a prisoner," he said. "You can do whatever you want for all I care. But you chose to remain hidden away in this estate, relishing your solitude while letting the rumors fester like an open wound."

"I relish my solitude?" Alice scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify your abandonment? You made a choice, Your Grace. A choice that affected us both."

"Mind your words, woman," he said to her sternly.

Alice looked away. "I don’t think this conversation is going to lead us anywhere productive. If you’re only here to fulfill your curiosity about the rumors, then perhaps you should just do what you came for and leave."

"Who said anything about leaving?" he asked and sat back down. "I’m here to stay, Alice. I will remain until the end of the Season, and I intend to clean up the mess you’ve made of our reputation."

"You’re staying?" she asked with widened eyes. "Till the end of the season?"

"We will be attending functions together as a married couple. Prepare yourself for it," he added.

Victor loathed the idea of stepping into the suffocating world of society, but now, with the specter of Alice’s growing reputation hanging over him, he had no choice but to re-enter the fray as the Duke, a role he had never embraced.

But, if attending the Season was what it took to salvage their names—and perhaps even his own peace of mind—then he would endure it.

"And you expect me to simply follow your orders because you’ve decided it?

" she asked. "I understand that we need to fix our reputation, but I’m not preparing myself to play a part just to satisfy your whims or the ton ’s expectations.

You can’t just return and dictate how everything will be from now on. "

"I think I can. Seeing as it’s my home and I am the head of it," he said.

Alice muttered under her breath before storming out of the room, leaving Victor alone in the silence. This was the longest conversation he had ever had with her, and he wasn’t quite sure how to process it. Conversations had never been his strong suit, so he had anticipated a clash of views.

Still, he was taken aback by her demeanor. He hadn’t expected her to be so furious.

Victor stood in the center of what used to be his chambers.

His room – as he recalled it – had been a strong and traditional space, filled with rich mahogany furniture and deep burgundy fabrics.

His father had designed the chambers himself, and while Victor did not care for the late Duke’s taste, he had grown accustomed to it.

There used to be a large four-poster bed, draped in heavy velvet curtains.

It had been the focal point of the room.

The walls had displayed portraits of his ancestors, telling stories of his family’s legacy.

There had also been a thick, plush carpet in the center of the room that he had picked out himself.

The room felt foreign to Victor now. Alice had transformed it into a lighter, brighter space. The heavy drapes were replaced with sheer panels that let in sunlight, and the deep green walls were now a soft blue, softening the once-serious atmosphere.

The bed remained, but it was now covered in floral linens, and his hunting trophies had been swapped for peaceful countryside prints. It wasn’t his style, and the changes unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

"Roberts..." Victor said to the butler behind him with his eyes shut. "Can you explain to me, what in heaven’s name happened to my chambers?"

Roberts cleared his throat. "You were gone, Your Grace," he answered. "Her Grace passed her time making renovations to the estate. According to her, it didn’t feel like a home and she wanted to change that."

"This room feels like a stranger’s haven.

" Victor’s gaze hardened as he turned to Roberts, his brows furrowed.

"It was my sanctuary. You let her redo my room, Roberts? And you didn’t think to mention it?

I left you here to keep an eye on her. To make sure that she was in line.

You should have been by my side as you always were, but I trusted that you would take care of this home in my absence. "

Roberts flinched slightly and cleared his throat. "And I did, Your Grace," he answered.

Victor turned to him with furrowed eyebrows. "So, you agree with the changes that Alice has made to the estate?"

"Not entirely, Your Grace," he stuttered.

"Not entirely?" Victor asked in disbelief, expecting an outright no. "Explain yourself."