Page 36 of A Trap by the Rakish Duke
Oliver raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Really? You expect me to believe that?”
Philip turned his back to the window, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Believe what you want, but I have no reason to change my view. She is part of a plan and that has not changed.”
“Perhaps,” Oliver relented, walking back toward the chessboard. “But I wonder if you are being entirely honest with yourself.”
Philip’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
Oliver laughed softly, shaking his head. “Oh, come now, Philip. Do you really think I have not noticed? You have been staring out the window since you saw her and pacing back and forth like a trapped animal.”
Philip’s jaw clenched at his friend’s words, but before he could offer a rebuttal, Oliver continued.
“You know, there is no shame in it. Her Grace is quite a…captivating woman. A challenge if you will.”
“A challenge?” Philip’s voice was sharp, filled with disbelief. “She is manipulative. That is all there is to it,” he scoffed, thinking back to the past days and her efforts to seduce him.
“Manipulative or determined?” Oliver quipped. “It depends on how you look at it.”
Philip huffed and crossed the room, running a hand across the mantelpiece in frustration. “I do not need your lectures, Oliver. I know what she is, and I know what she wants.”
“And what doyouwant?” Oliver shot back, his tone suddenly more serious. “You’re not usually so…indecisive.”
Philip paused, his hand stilling on the mantel. Whatdidhe want? He had told himself countless times that Aurelia was nothing more than a pawn in a grand scheme, but with each day that passed he found himself questioning that notion more and more.
She had been bold, yes, pushing her seduction to its limits, teasing him with her wit and her touch. He had been taken off guard, perhaps even fascinated by her advances.
But admitting that? No. Not to Oliver. Not to anyone.
“I want what I have always wanted,” Philip said at last, his voice colder now. “Control.”
Oliver studied him for a long moment, then sighed and walked back to his chair. “Control, eh? You are going to find that difficult with a woman like her. But I suppose you already know that.”
Philip clenched his fists, his mind racing. He knew that Oliver was right. Aurelia was a force to be reckoned with, and each day that passed, his resolve to keep her at arm’s length weakened. It had been by God’s grace that he was able to get a one-day reprieve from her, given her injury.
But no matter how much she intrigued him, he couldn’t allow himself to let down his guard. She was still a threat, still tied to the man who had wronged him and his family.
“I have it under control,” he stated firmly, more to himself than to Oliver.
Oliver shrugged, pouring himself another glass of scotch. “If you say so, old friend. But remember, some pieces on the chessboard have a mind of their own. They cannot be played so easily.”
Aurelia sat upright in her chair, her eyes sharp as she watched her husband and Viscount Whitley exit the manor. She had expected them to head directly toward the Viscount’s carriage, but to her surprise they began walking in her direction.
The moment they approached Aurelia straightened her posture and offered a smile. “Lord Whitley,” she greeted politely, “I trust you are well.”
Oliver inclined his head, returning her smile. “Your Grace,” he returned with a respectful bow. “I hear you have suffered a slight injury. How fares your ankle?” he asked, looking down at her injured ankle, wrapped tightly in bandages.
Aurelia forced a rueful laugh. “Oh, it is nothing too dreadful, I assure you. Merely a sprain, but I am afraid it has rendered me quite stationary,” she said, her smile remaining.
“I see. Quite unfortunate,” the Viscount murmured, glancing briefly at Philip who remained silent beside him. “I wish you a swift recovery. It is not every day that one can see a Duchessquite so at ease in the garden, though it appears the sun may be a bit unkind today.”
Aurelia chuckled lightly. “Indeed. I am sure the warmth will be the least of my concerns.”
During this exchange, Philip remained silent, though his gaze stayed fixed on her. She could feel his eyes watching her closely, reading her, perhaps even assessing her. The sensation was unsettling although not unwelcome.
“Thank you for your well wishes, My Lord,” she said warmly. “Do enjoy your journey back.”
Oliver gave a brief nod, casting a glance at Philip. “Until next time, then,” he said, before turning toward his carriage.
Philip accompanied his friend to his coach. Aurelia’s eyes followed them for a moment, her heart racing as the first part of her plan fell into place.
