“I don’t want to,” Lady Giuliana Crane declared, dropping a sugar cube into her tea. Her longtime maid stiffened.
“You can’t deny her invitation,” admonished Isolda, folding her arms across her chest. Giuliana stirred her tea with a silver spoon, the very picture of genteel refinement.
“I’m the daughter of an earl. I can behave how I wish.”
The maid’s face turned crimson, and she sputtered. “B-but, you are the Duke’s betrothed, you must attend Lady Lecia’s ball!”
Giuliana raised her chilling gaze to Isolda. “Why?”
“It is the opening event of the Season! Everyone is expecting you on His Grace’s arm!”
Before, Giuliana might have cared about these expectations. But after waking up in the past, she vowed to play the game in a different fashion. She knew that tonight was the ball where Ms. Adella Dunstan made her debut into society. She would arrive in a frothy confection of ice-blue silk and captivate the entire ballroom. At once, the Elite began to speak of her in glowing terms while disparaging Giuliana. She never did learn what caused the comparisons to begin or why her name even entered their mouths.
Part of her wanted to understand, but the other part stopped caring. Fourteen days had passed, and she still did not have a plan. She saw Alastair every day for tea and he remained as unreadable as ever.
“I think he’ll be quite alright,” she answered coolly. “I very much doubt he’d notice my absence.”
Isolda’s answering gasp shook the walls of the sitting room. “My lady, you presume too much!”
“Ah, I see my fiancée thinks very little of me,” came the dry voice of the Duke of Wytchwood. He walked with purpose to the armchair opposite Giuliana and sat down.
Giuliana lifted her gaze from her lap to Alastair’s moss green one. “You were not announced.” She said in a scolding tone.
“Dukes don’t have to be announced,” he replied. She gave him a tight smile and reached for the teapot. “So, you are backing out of Lady Lecia’s ball?” He inquired, resting an elbow on the armrest.
“That is my plan.” She poured out a steaming cup of tea. Alastair kept his focus on her, head cocked slightly to the side, surveying her like a puzzle.
“Why?”
She refused to answer the question honestly and end up in a dungeon. I died and some otherworldly force took pity on me and let me try again. So, Giuliana licked her lips. “I have a touch of a h--”
“Liar.”
Her olive cheeks flushed, and she froze in her seat. “I-I am not a l-liar.”
“Then I’ll see you tonight?”
Giuliana had much to say in response to him. But he was still a Duke. She also didn’t identify how much he had to do with her death. She bit her tongue and forced a saccharine smile on her face. “Yes, you will.” She put a cucumber sandwich on a small plate and handed it to him.
“I will come pick you up at seven.”
“You’ll pick me up?” She repeated, blinking wildly at him. Alastair nodded as he took a bite out of the sandwich. She waited with unease as he explained himself. He chewed at an agonizing pace. Giuliana sipped at her tea, close to reaching the end of her tether.
Alastair never ever came to her home to escort her to a ball. They always met at the location. She didn’t know what to make of it.
“It’s clear I do not spoil you enough, Liana, for you to boldly say I’d not notice your absence.”
The Duke, she remembered, had never once called her name so familiarly. It was always Lady Giuliana this or Lady Giuliana that. But to drop a title and use a nickname…? Just who was this man before her.
“Are you feverish?”
A corner of his mouth quirked upward, but he did not smile. “I am not.”
Giuliana shook her head. “No, you must be for you to say such peculiar things,” she decided, more to herself than him. She set her teacup on its saucer and returned it to the table. None of this was right. “You’re acting strangely,” she accused as her brown eyes narrowed into slits. The other corner of his mouth quirked.
“I could say the same about you.”
Giuliana became almost indolent the past fourteen days. She slept in and eschewed lessons in favor of reading trashy novels and drinking wine. These were liberties she never allowed herself before. She certainly never spoke so candidly.
With a fresh chance at life, she didn’t have the energy to impress the Elite anymore. It had always been a lost cause, and it took murder for her to realize it.
“It gets more difficult to pretend,” she murmured.
“What did you say?” Alastair inquired, leaning forward. Giuliana waved him off with a weary smile.
“It’s no matter, Your Grace.” She added more sandwiches to his plate. “Eat up. I know you often forget to eat while you’re working.”
“My fiancé always makes sure I’m well fed.”
She demurred, dropping her eyes to her lap. “It is what anyone would do.” Yes, Giuliana thought, Alastair must be ill. This summer was hotter than previous ones, causing droughts across Etria. Maybe the unrelenting heat and stress of the failing crops made him say silly things.
“What gown are you planning to wear tonight?”
“That is an odd question that I will not answer.”
“Why not?”
“B-because I did not plan on attending, so I did not pick out a gown.”
“Green becomes you, Liana.”
“I will keep His Grace’s preferences in mind.”
Alastair wiped his mouth with a fine linen napkin. He stood up and walked around the table to her side. Giuliana rose to join him. She offered him her hand, and he bowed his head over it.
“I look forward to escorting you this evening,” he murmured against her skin. A blush crept up the back of her neck at the caress of his breath. This wasn’t good. He straightened up and gazed down at her with an inscrutable look. “Seven o’clock, Giuliana,” he reminded her. He looked poised to leave, but he hesitated. Alastair bent toward her and brushed his lips against the top of her head. “I hope the rest of your day is pleasant.”
Her brain seemed to revolt against all coherent thought. “I-I...I…Y-yes.” Alastair's eyes almost seemed to twinkle before he finally took his leave. She fell back onto the sofa after the door shut behind him. Isolda slipped back into the room, eyes shining and hands clasped to her heart.
“See, my lady! He cares!”
Perhaps he cared now but soon Adella made her debut to the Elite and even the Duke would find his head turned by her good heart. Giuliana rolled her eyes.
“Isolda, please pull out my emerald taffeta gown with the flounces on the bustle.”
Green, he had said. It would behoove Giuliana to attend to his whims even as she had made vows to follow her own for once. Her selfish whims revolved around the blasted man. She’d figure out the root of his strange behavior this afternoon and she’d be on alert around Adella. She refused to die again. She just needed to remind herself that Alastair was still a suspect and to not fall for this unusual attention.
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