Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

“ T hat bloom is leaning too close to the gravel path,” Oliver noted that morning, though he spent more time watching his wife’s face.

Oliver realized that when he was with his wife, the morning dew felt fresher, and the flowers seemed to bloom brighter.

How had he not noticed these things before?

Ah. That question was easy enough to answer. He had spent most of his life in smoky rooms, drinking and gambling away his money. Fighting with his fists was the one thing that never took away his essence.

“Perhaps it’s stretching toward the sun. Isn’t that what the botanists say, anyway?” Alexandra replied, her voice light but somehow distant.

Oliver frowned.

“That flowers grow toward the sun?” Alexandra added.

“Perhaps it doesn’t understand the danger of doing so,” Oliver said, the playfulness overshadowed by his serious undertone.

He looked at her, gauging whether she caught his meaning—that sometimes what seemed natural could be dangerous, too. That the passion she had for playing could be consuming her.

And yet, the dark circles under her eyes seemed to suggest that it was a good thing she was getting some sun in the mornings.

She avoided his gaze. That made his chest tighten and his jaw clench.

They were growing closer physically, there was no doubt about that. In the bedroom, there was no hesitation, and they were learning what the other wanted. When it came to other things, she’d pull away just when they were getting close.

“How can it be dangerous when it’s the natural state of things?” she wondered aloud, seemingly no longer speaking to him.

He now understood her fascination with the mystery of J. Lewis. After all, he was fascinated with the mystery of her. She continued to confuse him. During the nights they were not together, he would hear the faint strains coming from the music room. Sometimes, they were soft, gentle lullabies with a melancholy edge. Other times, they were fierce and angry.

Emotional.

But what of technique? It was a shame that his father had put a halt to all of his music lessons when he was young.

There were days when Oliver found sheet music tucked haphazardly in her desk drawer. There were torn pages. Some were stashed in the most unlikely places. It was almost as if she no longer cared to conceal her pastime.

One evening, he had returned from a late night with Philip and their other friends to hear the melody drifting from the music room.

This time, it was haunting. The emotions were so raw that he had to clench his fists to stop himself from knocking on the door—from demanding what was going on.

Something was happening to the Duchess.

And he had to know what.

Days later, Alexandra seemed to have returned from the land of the dead. She was again cheerful, effortlessly navigating the ton .

Her grace and refined manners had attracted several ardent admirers, men and women alike. However, the shadow of her father still loomed large. He moved in the same circles despite his predilection for vice in unsavory places. Therefore, Alexandra still felt a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she attended soirées.

For good reason.

In this particular gathering, her father stood in a corner with two men his age. He seemed to be deep in conversation with the other men, and she could not help but wonder if he also owed them money.

Her heart sank further into her stomach. She was working hard, coming up with music to entertain and inspire, simply because she wanted to pay off his debts, and here he was, looking like he had nothing bothering him.

Then, he turned toward her. His eyes widened, first with annoyance, and then with a strange kind of glee.

“Father,” she said, startled by the way he was looking at her.

“Your Grace,” he replied mockingly.

Afraid that he would cause a scandal in someone else’s home, Alexandra closed the distance between them.

“I am trying to collect money to pay off your debts, Father. It will be a slow process toward freedom for you and me, but we will manage somehow,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“That is all you can do, you little chit? I’ve warned you. I don’t know where you get your money from, but it can’t be from your dear husband. Do you want me to go to him and ask him if he knows what you have been doing?”

His response shocked her. She had expected him to threaten her in places like Devil’s Draw, but not here. Not with members of the ton present. He had always charmed his ‘peers,’ as he would call them.

There was nothing else she could do but to distance herself from him. Barely holding back tears, she whirled around and walked away from him, only to be accosted by a woman.

“How are you settling into your life as a duchess?” Lady Harriet, a well-known gossip, asked her with a grin.

“I’ve learned to settle in as best as I can,” Alexandra said noncommittally, but her heart was still pounding from the encounter she just had with her father.

Lady Harriet seemed unconvinced and unsatisfied. She raised an eyebrow at Alexandra. “I hear married life is an even more challenging commitment, especially when your husband had been, erm, a notorious rake. Your Grace, how do you manage?” she probed, her voice irritatingly high-pitched.

Alexandra was about to retort, but she noticed that her husband had returned to her side.

Oliver could not help but admire the way his wife plastered on a patient smile, not taking Lady Harriet’s bait.

“Why, Lady Harriet, I believe in letting people believe what they want. It gives me more peace. I can say anything I want tonight, but I won’t please everyone with my answers.”

Lady Harriet laughed, but her eyes showed a hint of uncertainty. Oliver knew that she did not get what she wanted from Alexandra.

There was also unease on Alexandra’s face. The attention had been wonderful at first, but she had gotten tired of it.

“Come, my love,” he said softly, providing her with an escape.

She raised an eyebrow at the term of endearment. They had not mentioned that word in private and were only ever formal in public.

“Let me introduce you to someone.”

As they were a safe distance away, Alexandra tugged at her husband’s arm.

“There is nobody to introduce me to. Am I right, Your Grace?” she asked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Oliver preferred her this way, not the melancholy, secretive woman she had been as of late.

“No. I was merely saving you from that woman,” he said, not hiding his contempt and amusement. “But what do you think of what she asked you? Do you believe all the stories about me?”

“I am curious, but I will wait for you to tell me, Your Grace. We have not made promises to each other. You do not owe me anything,” she said lightly.

Oliver swallowed. It was not what he wanted her to say.

He had felt some kind of triumph and accomplishment for sharing her bed and enjoying her friendship. However, he realized he wanted more. Not this. Not her uncertainty. Not her emotional distance. Yet, he also knew he could not force the same feelings on her. She had been trapped enough. He had to make her see that they could make their marriage real, not just the physical part.

But how?

His shoulders felt heavy as they continued mingling with the ton .

The Devil’s Draw was calling him again. In the gambling hell, there were no expectations beyond the pain.

The fire in his throat. The bruises on his jaw. Broken bones and broken dreams.

When she shut him out, Oliver felt like he lost something he never had.

“Your father-in-law’s debts are being settled. Might be discharged soon if only he doesn’t come to gamble again,” someone at Devil’s Draw had commented one night.

Oliver did not respond, but the information lingered.

So, Alexandra wouldn’t stop until she could pay all her father’s debts.

Ever since that interaction with Lady Harriet, Alexandra had withdrawn. He had knocked on the door connecting their rooms several times, and each time she’d given him an excuse.

She was pulling away.

Life with her was back to how it was. An arrangement. A transaction. The ton seemed to feel the change in them. Whispers about trouble in paradise were getting louder. Neither commented on nor denied the rumors.

One night when they went back home, they found themselves in the drawing room drinking sherry. It was a rare warm moment.

“Why have you shut me out? You’ve done this before. Then, you came back. Now, you’re somewhere else again,” he said, no longer able to take the silence and distance between them.

He stood by the drinks cart while she half-reclined on the sofa. She had just finished her drink.

“Me? I shut you out? After I reminded you what our marriage really is, you stopped talking to me. You went back to taking your pleasures at Devil’s Draw.”

“Alexandra, I may have been a rake once, but I would never force women, even to talk to me or enjoy my company. I have seen you happy during the balls and soirées, but the same cannot be said of late. It’s like you are fading away.”

“I’m not. I’m simply?—”

The pause that followed frightened Oliver for some reason. It seemed she was close to revealing her true fears.

“Simply what?” he still prodded even as the hand that gripped the glass of sherry became clammy.

“Adjusting. I pretended to have settled in, but all of this…” she trailed off, turning away.

Oliver knew that there was more to her emotional distance than not having settled into her new position as a wife and duchess.

He set his glass down on the drinks cart with a clink, then strode toward the sofa and knelt beside her, taking her hand in his. Her skin was warm against his, but he could still sense her holding back.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “What are you trying to make sense of, Alexandra?”

She squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to forget where she was. “Everything. Our marriage, your return to Devil’s Draw, the pressure from the ton … Everything.”

Oliver knew she was still holding back. His grip on her hand tightened. “Our marriage is our own, and nobody else’s. They can say whatever they want. Isn’t that what you told Lady Harriet when you put her in her place?”

“We’ve begun pretending again. It makes me wonder if everything that happened between us was just part of the pretense.”

Her eyes sought his. However, when he looked at her intensely enough, she bowed her head.

Oliver’s throat felt dry. He swallowed hard, be he persisted—he would solve the puzzle that was his wife.

“We’re not strangers, Alexandra. We have managed to build a life together, though it may not seem like it yet. I am willing to raise a family with you if you would like that.”

She gasped at that. For a moment, he thought that he had shattered the last of her defenses, but he was wrong.

“A life built on lies and secrets,” she murmured sadly.

There was no resentment in her eyes, though. It occurred to him that it was herself that she blamed, or was that simply his imagination?

“You’re still trying to discover who I really am, and I have not let you.”

“It is how marriage is meant to be. I was not married before. I have never courted a woman either, but I know that the discovery is a process. Gradual but ultimately satisfying.”

“No, stop this. Just hold me.”

For a moment, Oliver hesitated. He was venturing into uncharted territory. It was a request that seemed both strange and familiar. Still, he was afraid to give it another thought, fearing she might slip away forever.

When she leaned into him, he wrapped his arms around her. She fit in his arms well, and at that moment, he felt something. Something he had been missing for weeks—a connection.

“Just like that,” she murmured against his chest, her tears staining his shirt.

They stayed like that for a while. Then, naturally, when Alexandra tilted her head up, Oliver’s lips descended on hers.