“Alas, this is where we must part ways,” he said.

“You mean until I meet with you again for our first dance?” I eyed him, doubtful as I crossed my arms, “And what of your hearing? Has it returned so soon?”

“Ah, it seems thankfully so,” he teased, “You must excuse my shortcoming, for I woefully have no grasp over its fluctuating nature.” I only stared back bitterly, feeling it unnecessary to voice a response that my eyes alone can just as simply convey. It’s apparent he is struggling to hold back laughter as I notice the corners of his lips threaten to curve upward. He attempted to obscure his expression by turning his head to the right, nonchalant about his inability to maintain his composure. I pulled up the remains of my dress and took a step towards him.

“Your Grace,” I said, leaning my head towards his. “It seems I cannot meet your gaze. I would like to formally bid you farewell, but you make it difficult,” I added, struggling to compete with his height.

He still did not properly return his attention to me.

“Ah well,” I finally relented, standing back to curtsy, “until tonight.” I clasped my hand around the knob, ready to take my leave when I felt reason for pause. The faint touch of his hand on my upper arm turned my attention back to him. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Lady Avalor,” he said, while I tried to disguise my repulse at his familiarity with me. “Although tonight we will be announcing our engagement to family and friends, among many esteemed guests,” he paused, gesturing with his hand to better illustrate the volume of those gathering in attendance. “It seems you have remained committed in neglecting to address me by my name,” he says abruptly, seemingly self conscious about this. Ah. To be quite fair, I hadn’t intended on uttering his name once during what was to be our brief time together. Although his company was occasionally pleasant, I had previously decided not to engage further in any informal conversation. “I see now that it was unwise of me to assume so,” he says wistfully, folding his arms behind his back. “I merely thought to bring it to your attention,” he pressed, bringing his face beside my ear, “since you mentioned addressing me more formally.” He pulls away from me to reveal a smirk sitting calmly across his face.

“Your Grace,” I taunt back, “Such customs are reserved for couples who truly intend to marry, not for those of us whose affairs are fleeting at best.”

“While it may be so that our affairs are fleeting, you neglect to consider our status,” he said, with wide eyes. “Whereas the commonwealth might readily take the liberty to vacillate between suitors, ambivalence concerning unions among our aristocracy carry significant repercussions.”

“And you anticipate that my reluctance, alone, to call you by name may herald doubt at tonight’s banquet?” I retorted, raising my brow.

“Whether it calls into question the validity of our marriage remains to be seen,” he shrugged with an air of foreboding. “However,” he continued, “it’s significant to note that no one is more subtle in their disapproval than our court, Lady Avalor.” I flinch at the last phrase, at him bringing my name to his lips. I raised my fingertips to the bridge of my nose and took a deep, frustrated breath.

“From what I’ve gathered, it seems you are insistent that I refer to you by your first name. Am I correct to assume that?” I ask with sharp poise.

“Of course, Lady Avalor,” he replied, smugly.

“And you contend that my refusal to address you as such may sow uncertainty in our vows to each other? Perhaps to the disdain of those around us?”

“Yes, on your behalf, Lady Avalor,” he said, mockingly, seemingly committed to adding my name to the end of each sentence.

“Well,” I said with an arrogant smile, “I assume I will just have to leave it to you to deal with it in my absence.” He shook his head, not satisfied with my conclusion.

“No, I’m afraid not, Lady Avalor.”

“Afraid not?” I teased.

“Afraid not, indeed. I have no intention of dealing with your absence,” he said, firmly. His tone revealed a familiar sense of conviction that I felt earlier in the courtyard, heightening my guard.

“How so?” I inquired, treading more carefully through this conversation.

“Hmmph, how so, indeed?” he said, pouting his lips and feigning wonder at my question. He fixed his gaze on me, staring so intently my heart began to shiver. I glanced down at his feet, noticing the steps he’s taking towards me. I felt my back press against the door as he closed the distance between us. The sensation of his hand gliding down past my cheek burns. He stopped at my chin, caressing my bottom lip with his thumb. He tilted his head at me, smirking. “Because,” he finally said, twirling a loose strand of my hair around his finger. “I have you wrapped around my finger. Fleeting or not, I will make sure to savor our time together,” he continued, lingering on the word “savor” to my unease.

“So you will address me as I see fit, lest the court catches wind of your plans to abandon it.” I shudder at his leverage over me, daring not to consider what that may entail in the future.

Meekly, I try to avoid making eye contact with him, but he locked his gaze on me.

“Right now, I wish to be acknowledged by my first name,” he added, implying there are other titles he might have me refer to him as. I remained silent to his request while my pride grappled with what dignity I have left, insistent he not have it. However, His Grace narrows his eyes at my indecision. “You know, I can’t deny I’ve taken pleasure in your defiance,” he paused, pressing his thumb against my lip, “but, at this very moment, my patience is running quite thin with you.” To his satisfaction, I part my lips. “Perfect.” He smiled. “Now say, Nikkolas.”

His Grace Nikkolas of House Barclay, the future Duke, and my fiance.

“Nikkolas,” I whispered, holding onto my breath as I waited for his reply. His stare remained firm as he mulled over my response, deciding for himself if he is satisfied.

“If not for how cute that was, I likely would’ve kept you longer,” he said with a smirk before pulling away. My face burned at his ridicule. “Don’t be late for our special dance,” he demanded as he turned toward the hall to change. “I sincerely hope this conversation of ours has been quite enlightening.”

I stood frozen at my door, waiting until he disappears behind the corner. As soon as I can no longer hear the echoes of his footsteps, I let myself slide down to the floor. I rest my head on my knees in anguish, and let out a sigh of relief. The memory of him previously kneeling before me, feigning concern and pleading he wished to help replays in my mind. Help himself is what he meant. I would be wrapped around his conniving finger. My only other chance to escape his grasp would be to leave now, but I’d certainly be caught. He is expecting me soon and knows of my plans, or lack thereof. I ran my hand through my hair in distress before picking myself up. With a shaky hand, I opened the door of my room to change, dreading my next encounter with him.

The herald welcomed our arrival as the next Duke and Duchess of House Barclay, announcing our engagement to the applause of our guests. Our first dance as a couple would begin soon, ushering in the rest of those in attendance to waltz along with us.

I would allow him to kiss my gloved hand, but that would be the first and last of these romantic displays. Though our initial dance was customary, I had no plans to linger, and would disappear into the crowd soon enough. I flinched at the sensation of his lips as they pressed against my hand, the memory of our conversation still fresh in my mind.

“May I have this dance, Lady Avalor?” The question carries a double edge, knowing what he expects of me.

“You may, Lord Nikkolas,” I replied, trying to disguise my aversion. Saying his name feels like a betrayal to the very fiber of my being.

As soon as I brought my arm back to my side, with swift grace he slid his hand along my waist, and clasped my other hand with his. I had waltzed several times before, but the warmth of his touch at my side made me uneasy. I felt all too vulnerable in his presence now, surrounded by the eyes of his court. Hoping he wouldn’t notice my slight discomfort, I lowered my gaze, lest my facade crack to his satisfaction. I kept my focus on the floor as if to get a sense for our footing, but I anticipated it wouldn’t excuse my lack of eye contact forever. I reluctantly met his gaze, only to realize that by the expression on his face, he had taken notice of my apprehension.

“Am I going too fast for you? You seem like quite the seasoned dancer.” This was true; I wasn’t required to watch his steps in order to keep up with him. No, House Laine insisted a well accomplished lady would secure a good husband. Therefore, I had all the practice necessary and more. What I needed was for this waltz to be over with.

“Not at all,” I smiled with all the poise I could muster, “It’s just my habit to ensure a good rhythm stays between us.”

“Hmmph,” he retorted with an unusually warm smile, “as could be expected with a dancer as graceful as yourself.” He paused to scan the rest of the crowd before turning his gaze back to me, “But that won’t be necessary.” I watch dumbfounded as his kind expression dissipates.