Page 27 of Duke of Silver
“I am hardly ever wrong, Elizabeth,” he said smoothly, his gaze steady upon her.
“And hardly ever humble, too, I see,” she quipped, her lips curling into a small smile. There was something different about him tonight, a subtle shift in his demeanor. His guard, though still present, seemed to have lowered just enough to allow a glimpse of the man beneath.
“Hardly ever does not imply totality, Liz dear,” he responded, and the familiar shortening of her name made her stiffen, though not entirely with displeasure.
Liz. She had not given him leave to call her such, yet there it was, rolling off his tongue as though it were perfectly natural. Before she could object to the familiarity, he continued, his tone as smooth as ever.
“Which means that I can be wrong sometimes,” he added. “And humble too. When I so wish.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, her amusement bubbling just beneath the surface. “You realize that a humble man would not call himself such?” she challenged, her gaze locking with his.
“Do you only ever issue challenges from those lips of yours whenever they move?” Alexander chuckled, the sound low and deep, rolling through the air between them. His amusement was palpable, and yet, inexplicably, it sent warmth rushing to her cheeks.
Elizabeth lifted her chin, refusing to be flustered by him. “No. They move when I eat too,” she replied with a shrug, her tone insolent, daring him to continue the game.
“Right. I forgot her grace needs sustenance too,” he said slyly, the glint in his eyes unmistakable.
She narrowed her gaze, unsure if his remark carried hidden barbs or another layer of jest. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Merely that you carry yourself with such an otherworldly air, one might assume basic human needs beneath you,” he replied smoothly, his expression unreadable, yet there was an edge of admiration in his words.
Elizabeth blinked, caught between indignation and uncertainty. Was he insulting her? Or offering some form of compliment masked in clever words?
“It’s a compliment, Elizabeth,” he said, his voice softer now, as though he had plucked the thought straight from her mind. “I could practically hear the gears in your head turning,” he teased, and once again, heat crept up her neck, staining her cheeks.
She hadn’t meant to react, but there it was—the undeniable flush of embarrassment. And yet, there was something different about the atmosphere between them now. The sharpness of their earlier exchanges had softened, and for the first time, she saw him truly amused, relaxed even. The tension that usually hung between them had lessened, and she felt an unfamiliar urge to press her advantage while the moment lasted.
“Alexander,” she began, her voice carefully measured, though her heart was racing. She tried to sound composed, though inwardly she felt anything but.
“Elizabeth,” he returned, the humor still in his eyes, though now tinged with curiosity. His brow quirked, waiting for whatever she was about to say.
She hesitated for the briefest moment, but then decided to forge ahead. “The family tragedy, what happened?”
The shift in him was immediate.
Where a moment ago he had been like the most clement of weather, now he darkened, his entire demeanor transforming as though a storm had descended upon him. The amusement vanished from his eyes, replaced by something far more guarded—something that sent a chill down her spine.
Elizabeth swallowed, her earlier confidence rapidly fading in the face of the sudden change. She had known the question was delicate, but she hadn’t expected the force of his reaction. It was as though the very mention of the past had summoned the ghosts that lingered around him, shrouding him in shadows once more.
Had she indulged her curiosity too quickly? Had she crossed an unseen line?
“That is something you need not concern yourself with.” Alexander’s words were like a whip.
Elizabeth blinked, momentarily stunned by his brusqueness. But to her own surprise, her obstinacy flared, rising to the surfacedespite the nerves tightening in her chest. “You do not think I should know?” she asked, her voice firmer than she expected.
“Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear enough,” he replied, his tone measured, but no less cold. “You and I have an arrangement. We lead our independent lives, out of each other’s hairs. And that includes minding our own businesses and not digging around the past.”
The chill in his voice sent a fresh wave of hurt through her. It was as though every word was meant to push her away, to remind her that she did not belong in the parts of him that truly mattered. Her heart ached, but she pressed on, determined to stand her ground.
“You make it sound as though I am being nosy in a matter that ought to be of my concern now that I am Duchess,” she said, forcing herself to remain steady, even as the weight of his indifference threatened to crush her resolve.
He exhaled, his gaze hardening. “I’ll give you a piece of advice, YourGrace,” he said, his voice lowering to something almost dangerous. “The sooner you know your place as Duchess, the better you will find your new role and life here.”
Elizabeth felt the sting of his words as though he had slapped her. For a moment, she could not find her voice, her shock rendering her mute. His dismissal, his refusal to even consider her role as part of this family—it was more than she had been prepared to face.
She rose slowly, every movement deliberate, her manners holding her together even as her heart fractured under the weight of his coldness. “Goodnight,” she said curtly, refusing to let him see the full depth of her hurt, before turning and leaving the room.
Her footsteps echoed faintly as she made her way through the dim hallways, her mind reeling with the conversation, every word replaying in her head. How had it all gone so wrong? How had they become such strangers?
