Page 33 of The Duchess and the Beast
Lucy snorted in response. “Well, there is your answer then. Here–” She reached out and took the bottle of wine from Virtue’s hand. “I will return this to the kitchen. Or perhaps to my room. We’ll see how the evening unfolds.”
Virtue giggled. “And you have spoken to the kitchen staff? They know they won’t be expected to serve supper tonight?”
“I have,” Lucy confirmed. “They weren’t too thrilled about it either, especially when I instructed them not to inform His Grace.”
“And you made sure to point out that it was upon my instruction?”
“Of course. Imayhave also intimated that should they breathe a word to their master, they would find your temper rivals that of His Grace himself,” Lucy replied, her tone half-serious.
“Very good,” Virtue snorted with amusement. Then she took a step back and surveyed the setting one final time, making sure that all was in order. It was a modest setup—just a blanket and a single chandelier yet to be lit, but once night fell and darkness was upon them… well, she very much expected the mood set to be precisely as she required. “Yes,” she nodded approvingly. “This will do quite nicely.”
“I’m sure he is bound to adore it.”
“He had better,” Virtue responded with a scowl. “If tonight unfolds as I envision, Lucy, I dare say tomorrow will be a most wonderful day.”
“Charming,” Lucy remarked dryly at the underlying implication of that sentiment. “I suppose I shall allow you a morning’s respite then.”
It was time for decisive action.
The past five days had seen Virtue and Sebastian cautiously navigating the waters of their new relationship, gradually becoming more and more familiar with each other’s boundaries and temperaments. Polite exchanges only. Carefully curated conversations—no arguing, no bickering, and certainly no topics that could lead to flared tempers. It reminded Virtue of the early days of her courtship to Lord Prescott, when she had been a bundle of nerves and simply glad that she could speak to him without tripping over her tongue and embarrassing herself.
Yet, this modest approach was no longer enough. She and Sebastian weren’t in the early stages of courtship. They were husband and wife. And by all rights should have been far beyond this ‘innocent’ stage. And where she could see that the Duke was trying his best, she also sensed that he was still holding back a part of himself.
The short and passionate kiss they shared last week was a testament to that. It still made her body flush to remember, and she still berated herself for trying to remove his mask right when she had him where she so desperately wanted. But it also wentsome way to ensure her that the feelings of desire she felt were shared between them, and all she needed to do was give him a gentle push to move them past this plateau…
“Right.” She clapped her hands together and nodded once. “How long before supper?”
“A few hours still.”
“Perfect. Plenty of time to prepare myself then.” And so, that was what she did.
Or at least what she intended to do, but it was as Virtue wandered through the castle, reaching the foyer by which she would walk up the stairs to her quarters, that there came a knock at the main door. She paused when she heard it, surprised by its suddenness. In a castle such as this one, the visitors were often announced—seen from the main gates and called to. She supposed that this late in the day, the staff were busy with other tasks, and any remaining footmen were helping tend to the renovations of the back gardens, so whoever it was had managed to slip by them.
Another knock came. Albion was nowhere in sight. Likely, it was just one of her husband’s friends, and a chance to glean further insights into the man she had married. Sebastian had yet to introduce her properly to any of them, and if the butler got to the door first, she would likely never be introduced. So, lifting her skirts, she quietly hastened to it herself, and when she reached the door, she fixed the best smile on her face, thinking a good first impression might go a long way.
However, as she opened the door, the smile she had so meticulously prepared faltered and fell away.
“Lord… Lord Prescott?” Virtue gasped, her heart plunging to the depths of her stomach.
“Your Grace,” Lord Prescott crooned, falling into an elaborate bow, before meeting her eyes again with a dashing smirk. “I surmise from your facial expression that you were not expecting to see me?”
Lord Prescott… her former betrothed, stood unexpectedly on the threshold of Castle Greystone. Of all the gentlemen in England, he was the last she anticipated encountering here, especially given the abrupt end to their engagement—an end he had instigated, and subsequently, taken great pains to avoid her since.
Virtue’s breath grew trapped in her lungs. “What… what in heavens are you doing here?” she choked out, her eyes wide.
His smile was grand and broad and most of all, striking. Although she hated to admit it, he was a good-looking man, tall, strapping, and alluring to a fault. Light features, pale blue eyes, a square jaw, and a perfectly sized nose that was symmetrical and strong. His appearance was as charismatic as ever, though now it brought a twinge of uneasiness as opposed to admiration.
“Perhaps I should have sent word,” he remarked with a chuckle.
“Indeed, you should have,” Virtue replied with a piercing edge in her voice. There was a time, not long past, when an unsolicited call from Lord Prescott would have left her heart in disarray—desperate for explanations, for resolutions, and perhaps, secretly, for a chance at mending what was left of their relationship. He had, with a singular cruelty, shattered her self-confidence so thoroughly that she found herself questioning her very worth. Many were the nights Virtue had spent in solitude, her tears soaking the pillows of her bedchamber, and countless hours passed in the silent company of books within her library, nursing a wounded spirit. But now, standing before him, she felt a surge of indignation rather than confusion or longing. She squared her shoulders, “So, I must ask again, what brings you to my home?”
His grin faltered. “I—I was just in the area. You are aware, of course, that I own some land this way and I was merely passing by.” He attempted another charming smile, but Virtue fixed him with a stern look. “Well, truthfully...” He held his hands up in a gesture of harmlessness. “I had heard of your marriage with the Duke of Greystone, as has most of London, and seeing as I was in the vicinity…”
“Seeing as you were in the vicinity…?”
He pressed his lips together, his eyes briefly flitting past her. Seemed to consider a moment as he looked back over his shoulder. Finally, turning to face her fully again, he whispered, “Is there…” He sucked through his teeth. “Is there a chance we might have a word in private?”
Again, had this been just a month ago, Virtue would not have hesitated to take him up on his offer. Now, however, she was rather surprised by how much she had changed. Lord Prescott no longer had her heart and never before had she been more aware of it. A word in private? Whatever could he…