CHAPTER EIGHT
"So, Emma might be getting married this season?"
Alice twirled before the mirror, feeling the blue gown constrict a bit too tightly around her waist and shoulders, digging into her skin in a way that only grew more irritating with each adjustment. She pulled at the fabric, trying to loosen it, but the stubborn dress refused to give. It was an exquisite gown; she couldn’t deny that. The embroidery was delicate, and the color flattered her complexion. Yet, as she moved, she could hardly ignore how it limited her breathing.
"I am not getting married this season. It was one dance," Emma argued, sitting on the bed. "Plus, I reckon he only danced with me out of pity."
"Don’t say that, Emma," Lavinia argued. "He probably feels just as awkward as we do. You’re worth more than just one dance, Emma. You’ve such wit, and if you simply... put yourself out there more, the gentlemen would see that too."
Emma scoffed. "Please. This isn’t our first season, Lavinia."
"Well, don’t you want it to be your last?" she questioned. "Are you not tired of your mama always scheming at every tea party? Because I am exhausted."
Emma leaned in. "Well, that’s why we keep coming here to Alice’s home to escape those awful tea parties."
"Well, we obviously can’t keep coming here to hide forever," Lavinia said. "Your mama had finally taken matters into her own hands."
"He’s older than my papa, Lavinia," Emma said. "I am not marrying out of convenience. No offense, Alice."
"None taken," Alice chuckled and turned back to the mirror.
"It can’t be that bad," Lavinia said, strolling to the window. "I mean, look at Alice, she’s still...alive."
Emma tilted her head, squinting at Alice with an amused gleam. "That is true. The Duke has been back in the estate for over a week now. Given his reputation, and your temper, we half-expected you to be…well, in hot waters."
Alice rolled her eyes at their attempt to tease her, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Hardly. He keeps to himself. Ravenmoor is large enough to avoid each other,after all. We cross paths only when we have breakfast together, sometimes lunch."
Lavinia and Emma exchanged glances and rose from their seats. "You eat with him?" Lavinia asked, eyes widened. "Together?"
Alice shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, as much as I would rather not. He insists on it. He says if we are to put up a good front in society, we need to start tolerating each other or we would be unable to fool anyone."
Lavinia slowly nodded. "So, what do you talk about when you eat together?"
Alice emitted a soft sigh, pausing to gather her thoughts. To say that she was confused was an understatement. Since their conversation about reassigning Roberts to the orangery, her mornings with Victor had been filled with silence and lingering tension. They barely spoke at breakfast. He would occasionally ask about the progress of her project, but his responses to her questions were always brief. More often than not, he excused himself from the table before she could even hope for a real conversation.
It was as if he’d erected a wall between them, one she hadn’t yet figured out how to breach. Not only did she find herself constantly wondering what he was thinking, she was now curious about his every move. What was he doing? Why was he in his study for so long? Where does he go when he disappears for hours?
"Alice? Where did you go there?" Emma asked. "Answer the question. What do you talk about?"
"Nothing," she answered and shrugged her shoulders. "He barely talks to me."
"That’s good then," Lavinia said. "Right? That way you’re at peace. It’s good to know that some of the rumors about him might be false."
Alice sighed again. Two years ago, she would have been over the moon with happiness, knowing that Victor had a wall around him that he hated for people to intrude. It would have been the perfect excuse to stay away from him, knowing his reputation.
But her perception of him had changed a lot since he came back. After she had decided to stop being afraid of him, she had gotten strangely attracted to the way he stared at her. Then, there was that incident at the orangery when he’d caught her mid-fall, his arm firm around her waist. The warmth of his hand lingered long after he’d let go. For days even. And when he conceded to let Roberts help with the orangery, an unexpected kindness from him....she couldn’t ignore the softening in her heart toward him.
"Don’t say that, Lavinia," Emma said. "Don’t allow Alice to lower her guard around him. He is still a man with terrible reputation. It’s best she still keeps some distance. Who knows? One day, he might just decide to prove to her why he is as terrible as they say."
"Well, we don’t know if the rumors are true," Alice heard herself say. "I mean, it’s been a while, and I haven’t heard any stories of him killing anyone. Who knows where that silly rumor came from?"
Lavinia’s jaw dropped, and Emma’s eyes widened in shock as they stared at Alice. It seemed as though there was an eerie abomination on Alice’s face, and they dreaded the sight. Alice arched her eyebrows, puzzled.
"What? What is it?" she questioned.
"Alice, are you actually defending him?" Lavinia asked, stunned.
"Great heavens, I never thought I’d see the day," Emma added and gasped.
