The Duke strode into the parlor with an enormous bouquet of ivory flowers and a smile like sunshine. Giuliana swore she heard each and every woman gasp at his gallant entrance. She felt her own heart beat erratically as the full force of his shining face fell on her.
A maid crept up to the far end of the table to collect the shards of a teacup as the ladies stood to greet the first male guest.
“Welcome, Lord Wytchwood,” sang the women as they dropped into perfect curtsies.
“Good afternoon, everyone.” He dropped to his knee before Giuliana and presented her with a bouquet. “For my bride.”
Though they discussed this at length, Giuliana was unused to the full force of his charms. Judging by the swooning in her periphery neither were the other ladies. Why should they be? Alastair had always been the archetype of the Duke-- well-mannered and unruffled. Now, he prostrated before her like an actor on stage.
Giuliana felt her grip on reality slip bit by bit. But, she had her own role to play. No longer the Duchess-in-Waiting, but a besotted fool. She accepted his gift and pulled him to his feet.
“Thank you, Alastair.”
She didn’t think it possible, but his grin turned blinding. He surveyed the table, careful to not let his focus land on Adella and declared, “Did I come early? You have not had tea yet.”
“I was a trifle late,” admitted Giuliana, hanging her head. He lifted up her chin.
“It’s my fault for visiting you so late last night, but I had to see your face.” He said the words just loud enough for the others to hear before winking down at Giuliana. She cursed her weak body for trembling. This might actually kill her before poison did.
Lecia, like all women of the Silverkeep family, lived for the drama. She fanned herself lazily, watching the torrent of emotions play out across Adella’s face. The poor girl looked as if she might have a stroke at any moment. Her traitorous sister patted Adella on the back, whispering paltry words of comfort to her.
Honestly, what a shame to call her kin. Lecia raised her eye to the ceiling and said a silent prayer to the goddess for the sake of her foolish soul.
The hostess asked for a chair to be brought over for him, right at Giuliana’s side. Her dear friend looked as if she might faint, clutching the blooms to her chest. She sniffed at them, a faint smile appearing.
“Jasmine?” She asked him.
“What else could they be? Perhaps I’ll make you a flower crown later.” Those words were just for her ears though Lecia caught bits of his reply.
“Please put her flowers on water, Jephson, so that we may finally have some tea.”
With the bouquet whisked away and Alastair settled in his seat, the tea party continued. Giuliana was in a daze and could only be counted upon to give one or two word answers. Alastair spoke with all guests in turn, even answering Adella’s incessant questions. He could not be outright rude to a guest of Lecia’s.
“What does His Grace like to do for fun?” She inquired, voice loud and carrying across the table.
“Since taking over the dukedom, Ms. Dunstan, I don’t have much time for frivolity. The Wytchwood lands are expansive and so I spend most of my time managing them and in meetings at the Palace.”
Adella took little notice of his reply and continued to prattle. “I like to draw. I’m very good at it. I do hope you will call on me, so I can show you some of my work.” The air swelled in the parlor, a dripping sweet scent mingling with the fresh air flowing in from the terrace. Adella’s eyes grew luminous as she stared down Alastair. The Duke opened his mouth to refuse and then stopped, a puzzled expression overtaking his features.
“I...t-think I’d like that, C-Celia.”
Giuliana stared hard at her tea as she poured in cream, ignoring Lecia’s dropped jaw and the quiet gasps from around the table. She pretended to not hear the exchange at all. Or so she planned. But, a flurry of words flooded from her mouth before she thought better of it.
“Honestly, Ms. Dunstan, you continue to astonish me with your disregard for propriety.” Her fingers curled around a gilded teaspoon and she stirred the liquid in her cup. “It makes a woman look desperate to ask a man to call upon her. To ask that of a man of a higher class and one with a fiancee shows just how lowborn you are.” She tossed her long curls over her shoulder and hid a scornful laugh behind her hand. “You should work harder at your etiquette lessons and perhaps you’ll find your own fiance.”
“I think, Lady Giuliana, you should take better care to consider your own lineage before disparaging Ms. Dunstan,” snapped Alexina.
Giuliana leaned forward in her seat and stared down the table. “Forgive me, but who are you?”
Alexina’s face twisted into anger. “My name is Alexina Keech, daughter of the M--”
“I. Don’t. Care.” She sipped her tea. “No one addressed you. Why are you intervening?”
“No one addressed you,” Alexina spat out, leaping to her feet. “How dare you address me so flippantly!” Giuliana, if she was not affianced to a ducal house, would be quite out of line to speak to the daughter of a marquess in such a way. Thankfully, she was only engaged to an earl, so she was able to address her freely.
“It is my right and duty to intervene when my fiance is involved, Lady Alexina, or would you be alright with a woman asking your fiance to call on her?”
This put Alexina back in her chair, fists clenching around a napkin. She did not speak again. Giuliana looked at her fiance, whose gaze was subdued. She leaned toward him, fingers reaching to his arm. Her familiar scent carried over him and he breathed out, face clearing.
He blinked three times and said, “We have a problem."
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