Page 31 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
But how could he possibly achieve that?
Chapter Thirteen
Alexandra thought the carriage ride was torture.
Normally, she would use the time to relax and ponder about her music. Her fingers would be dancing over her dress, imagining her next performance at home. She would wonder how her next composition could become a masterpiece. Her thoughts would then wander into melancholy territory, reminding her of the impossibility of being recognized for her talent as a woman.
However, after the kiss, it was difficult to think of anything else. She clenched her fists on her lap as she tried to avoid her husband’s gaze.
Why was he looking at her like that? He had never done it before.
Before tonight, it was almost like she was a nuisance to him—someone he ought to forget. Yet, tonight, it was different.
She did not think he had it in him to focus on something at all. He was always busy—boxing, gambling, drinking, and dallying with women. Not the introspective man in front of her. Not the man who was looking at her as if she was the only woman in the world.
Alexandra hoped that he would stop acting like that. It had to be a game for him, and she had never been good at playing.
Talk to me. Ask me anything. I cannot stand the silence.
As if he could hear her thoughts, Oliver chose to keep silent throughout the rest of the ride.
He seemed to have been built to annoy, and he seemed deceptively content to study her face. Nobody had stared at her before. Not like this.
Her fingers began tapping on the skirt of her dress. The rhythm was forming, together with music in her head, enabling her to forget for a moment that she was in a carriage with an increasingly attentive husband.
“Tonight was enlightening, Duchess,” he said, finally breaking the silence.
Alexandra tried not to make her sigh of relief too obvious. It came in three short bursts—silent, she hoped. But from the way his gaze dropped to her chest, she realized that her sigh did not go unnoticed.
“Why is that?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“I did not know that you had such a passion for the opera,” he replied with a smirk as he sat straighter.
The way he emphasized the word ‘passion’ was not lost on Alexandra. She felt herself growing hot, despite the crisp evening.
“Your Grace,” was all she could say, but her voice held a warning.
“What? You don’t wish to comment on that?” he asked innocently, folding his arms across his chest.
Alexandra could not help remembering how broad it was. The image of him walking without a shirt on in the hall flashed in her mind. How could it be so vivid?
“Well, I love music. Of course I have a passion for something that features it.”
“I see. It seems we have now arrived home,” he said in a serious tone, but his lips twitched, betraying his mirth.
Alexandra could only silently fume at his smugness. She stomped down the carriage, blatantly refusing his help. She had not turned around to watch her husband, but she was certain she heard him chuckle.
“Let us go for a morning walk. You know, the kind that you like to go on when you disappear in the mornings.”
Oliver’s eyes were not fixed on his wife. He was reading a leather-bound book with a title that Alexandra had to squint to see. His voice was even, but there might have been a little taunt there.
“I do not disappear in the mornings. I go to the market to purchase, uh, things,” Alexandra explained, although she suspected that he no longer believed that story.
“Such things need not be purchased, but you still choose to do it. Today, we will simply enjoy the fresh air. Will you still bring your parasol with you?”
Again, he would tease her but not in a blatant way. It was there. Alexandra wondered how she had discovered facets of his character so early.
“No, Your Grace. I would rather walk out in the open. Unlike other women, I am not afraid of the sun,” she stated as she tilted her head up, looking him in the eye challengingly.
