“Business affairs I could discuss with Phyllis’ father,” he continued silently, as the carriage rocked gently on the cobbled streets of a city he loved to visit, but didn’t particularly enjoy enough to live in.
He could be the lending hand we need to get out of this predicament.
It all made sense in his mind. This visit was nothing more than a compelled sense of duty and propriety. After all, it was customary for a couple who were courting to be visiting each other.Yes, that is all there is to it, he nodded softly, almost as if he were having a proper conversation with himself. This was a mere formality, a courtesy call, driven by the necessity of discussing potential business matters with Norman St. Clair.
Upon reaching the entrance, the imposing wooden doors swung open, revealing the inner sanctum of the St. Clair household. The butler, a man of impeccable decorum, greeted him with a nod.
“Good day,” Alexander returned the greeting. “I am not expected, but if you would be so kind as to inform the Earl of Cregstone that the Duke of Woldaves is here to see him, I would be very grateful.”
The butler nodded once more. “Your Grace may wait in the drawing room. If you would kindly follow me…”
In the elegantly appointed drawing room of the St. Clair residence, Alexander found himself pacing with a nervous energy that defied explanation. The finely crafted furniture and intricate details of the room, though exquisite, failed to distract him from the inexplicable tension that had settled upon him.
He glanced at the timepiece on the mantel, its rhythmic ticking echoing in the quiet room. Each measured second seemed to amplify his restlessness. Despite his usual composed demeanor, Alexander couldn’t shake the subtle sense of anticipation, an emotion he was unaccustomed to in the context of a formal visit.
He had to repeat this phrase several times. A formal visit, nothing else. Then, why did his mind race with thoughts, as he was attempting to rationalize the source of this strange unease? Was it the impending business discussions with the Earl of Cregstone, or was there an underlying current of something else?
As he continued to pace, Alexander tried to quell the rising tide of nerves. He reminded himself that this was a customary visit, driven by business matters and familial obligations. Yet, the persistent feeling lingered, leaving him with a heightened awareness of the minutes ticking away.
“Ah, Your Grace!”
The door suddenly burst open without any warning, and Norman St. Clair appeared first, with his hand outstretched even before it was within Alexander’s reach.
“What an honor it is to have you in our home!” he exclaimed proudly, gripping Alexander’s hand in a cordial greeting.
“I am in town on some business, and I thought I might pay you a visit. I hope I am not imposing,” Alexander replied, his gaze instinctively seeking out Phyllis, who was standing right behind her father, with her sister by her side.
“Imposing?” the earl spoke, utterly wide-eyed with surprise which obviously brought him much joy. “Not at all! We are so utterly glad to have you, are we not, Phyllis, my dear?”
He stepped to the side, finally revealing her. She was smiling, her cheeks slightly flushed. The air in the room seemed charged with unspoken tension, and he still had no idea where it was stemming from. Still, he steadied his nerves, prepared to engage in polite conversation and determined to navigate the intricate dance of social niceties, which he hoped would lead to a satisfactory ending for them both.
* * *
“Your Grace,” Phyllis curtsied before him, upon his respectful bow.
Though accustomed to the usual comings and goings that were required within societal obligations, Phyllis had to admit that she was taken aback to find the duke in her family’s drawing room. She didn’t expect him to go to such lengths as to actually pay them a visit, which was in fact, what a couple who were courting were wont to do.
“Miss. St. Clair,” he replied, as she greeted him with the expected politeness, masking the surprise that flickered in her eyes. There was peculiar energy in the air that tugged her in his direction. Despite the initial surprise, she was glad to see him. That much was more than evident, and it was difficult to hide it.
As they started to exchange the usual pleasantries while settling in their preferred seating arrangement, Phyllis couldn’t deny the strange excitement that stirred within her. It wasn’t the kind of thrill associated with the usual social gatherings, but a unique sensation brought about by the unexpected nature of the visit. She observed the duke’s cold countenance, a façade she had come to expect, yet its presence never failed to irritate her.
“If you will permit me to say, your home is lovely, Miss St. Clair,” the duke pointed out.
“Thank you, Your Grace, you are most kind,” Phyllis nodded graciously. She knew this was just a part they were playing, yet she found out she was enjoying it more and more with each passing moment. “The decorations were mostly done by… our mother.”
She quickly locked eyes with her father, and despite his initial anger at mentioning her, Phyllis could see an underlying current of sorrow that would never leave the confines of his heart.
“And of course,” she quickly added, strangely remorseful for causing her father pain, “Joyce and I have also done our part in making this house lovely.”
“Your mere presence makes a house shine.” He surprised her with his words. Once again, she reminded herself it was nothing but a game, but his words pleased her. He was truly up to the task of wooing her as customs dictated. She had to return the favor.
“Your Grace flatters me,” she smiled, blushing a little. Only, this was not on purpose.
“It is easy to flatter a lady such as yourself,” he returned again, much to her father’s delight.
The formality of their interaction hung in the air like a delicate dance, and Phyllis found herself navigating the conversation with a practiced grace. Despite her composed exterior, the subtle undercurrents between them hinted at a complexity that surpassed the usual constraints of societal norms.
However, the more words they exchanged, the easier it was to fall back into their roles of a couple who was madly in love with each other. They seamlessly slipped into the roles they had created for themselves, with each exchanged glance and carefully orchestrated display of affection. The teacups clinked softly, adding a delicate melody to the performance as they continued their charade.
