Chapter 13

The next evening, Alexander stood in the foyer of his castle, waiting for his lovely wife to join him.

If not for the need for a good societal image, he would have preferred to stay home, lounging with his wife between the sheets in their king-sized bed upstairs. At least, he was guaranteed to be happier that way than stepping into the proverbial lion's den.

The moment the familiar scent of lavender reached him, he turned to see Helen descending the stairs in a gown of the deepest blue that contrasted with her skin, making it look rich and glowing. She was magnificent, a goddess among men, and he was temporarily struck dumb by that picture.

"How do I look?" she asked shyly when she reached him, swirling her skirts this way and that.

It was adorable how free of artifice she was.

Another woman would bask in her beauty, but this adorable wood sprite, he had realized, thrived on his validation, and he would do that and more if it was what she needed for her self-esteem.

"You look magnificent, love. I have half a mind to whisk you above stairs and keep you there, dear. But I would prefer to show off your beauty to the world if only to make them hate me even more for snagging such a beautiful woman for myself. I am wicked in that way," he said, making sure he expressed his hunger through his eyes.

"You do have a golden tongue, don't you, Your Grace?" she said, chuckling and tapping him lightly with her fan.

"I suppose I do, Your Grace, and I could put it to even better use if you permit me," he suggested, putting a hand on her waist and dragging her forward for a kiss that turned molten quite quickly.

"I supposed we should go now if we are to make it to the wedding," he suggested, his breathing ragged when they finally came up for air.

His beautiful wife looked stunned for a moment, and then she collected herself, looping her arm through his.

"Yes, I believe we should," she replied.

Together, they made their way towards the carriage.

* * *

The wedding was a success, based on the ton's standards. The bride and the groom were resplendent in all their glorious wedding finery. The bride was practically glowing when she was led in by her brother. She exchanged wide smiles with her groom when she got to the altar so much so that the unmarried members swore that they were a love match. Helen wouldn't blame them at all. They did make a beautiful couple, at least on the surface.

Helen even, with her naivety, was amazed by the bride's acting skills. She believed that the beautiful bride had missed her calling.

She would have racked in a lot of money acting for the opera house. Helen admitted that she might have been more likely to fall for her deception if she hadn't met Sophia before and seen her attitude in real life.

Helen particularly had a strong dislike for bullies, as she had had friends who had been ruined through bullying behavior. Many had been made permanent spinsters and consistent wallflowers simply because they had crossed someone in some petty way.

Alexander had warned her that Sophia exacted revenge on people by ruining their good name, but Helen guessed Sophia had practice, having used her half-brother for her debut effort. It amazed Helen how such a beautiful creature could have such a dark heart.

It was unfortunate that Helen was now tied to her family through her marriage to Alexander, but he was worth it, so she was going to endure any meals and encounters with them.

Soon the ceremony was brought to an end, and they all headed to the house for the wedding breakfast. They were beckoned to the high table, where they happened to be sitting close to Alexander's brother.

"Nathaniel," Alexander greeted shortly.

Nathaniel looked up at him, his lips widening in a sly grin. "If it isn't the Duke of Blackhill. It seems you decided to grace us lesser mortals with your presence."

It didn't skip Helen's attention that he was purposely ignoring her and remaining seated instead of standing, which was customary for a gentleman to do in the presence of a lady, but then she guessed it would be a mistake to classify Nathaniel as a gentleman simply because he was born into nobility. The man was very crass and sly—a glaring opposite to his brother, who was always collected.

Alexander pulled out her chair for her, and she thanked him before he took his seat beside his brother, effectively providing a buffer between her and his brother. They were served their meal, and Alexander insisted on fishing her food from the platters available.

"Wonders never end." Nathaniel started chuckling. "Who would have thought that the Ice King of Blackhill would stoop so low as to serve his wife's meals? I guess you saved the softer parts of your personality for your wife. As your brother, I never received the slightest affectionate consideration from you."

"Well, I hardly think you have done anything to deserve such affectionate considerations. If I can recall, the last time you contacted me, it was to request that I settle a gambling debt for you. I am left to assume that it was your way of showing brotherly affection."

At that, Nathaniel was thankfully quiet. It was quite endearing to see how masterfully Alexander handled his siblings' barbs, and he did so without breaking a sweat or missing a beat. There was always a ready answer in his mouth.

The table enjoyed a few minutes of silence before Nathaniel resumed his verbal torture.

"Tell me, Your Grace," he said, addressing Helen, "is he quite as attentive in your matrimonial bed?" A sly smile played on his lips.

Helen almost choked on her drink, but she forced herself to swallow gently before attempting to reply to the rude man whom she had the misfortune of having as a brother-in-law.

"I don't think that is an appropriate question for the breakfast table, and that information is private, and I intend to keep it that way," she answered with as much dignity as she could muster even while her palm itched to make a resounding contact with his face and wipe off that smirk. "Then again, I wonder at your interest in your brother's bedroom activities. Do you have any interest in replacing me in his bed?"

Alexander raised his eyebrow in surprise, and she noted he looked to be hiding a laugh. Nathaniel reddened and looked like he was collecting himself.

"I only asked because I was wondering how soon we can expect the birth of a new heir for the Blackhill Dukedom," he said, knowingly needling her. She was impressed he had recovered from that barb easily.

Alexander was obviously making an effort to avoid reacting to his brother's provocative questions. It looked like Nathaniel was simply doing this to annoy Alexander, and any reaction would just encourage him to intensify his campaign to push him into a rage.

Helen took a deep breath and silently implored the Lord to grant her patience to deal with the man-child who sat two seats down from her.

"I wouldn't know how soon a child would arrive, My Lord," she answered, forcing a smile she didn't feel right on her face. "Of course, we will welcome children whenever we are blessed with them."

"Well, I am available if the Duke is remiss on his conjugal duties." He laughed slyly.

It happened so fast that Helen didn't remember thinking about doing it. It just happened.

One minute she was cradling her soup bowl, trying to drink from it, and the next moment she was emptying the contents of the bowl on his smirky face. Well, that wiped the insolent look off his face.

"Don't you ever suggest something so insulting ever again," she said, her voice shaking with barely restrained anger. "I will rather bed a pig than crawl into bed with a man as disgusting as yourself. The next time you choose to insult me or my husband, I promise you the soup will be much hotter. That will definitely be an upgrade to your looks."

Then, pushing her seat back, she fled towards the entrance of the manor.

* * *

After Helen left, Alexander was shocked for a while, and then the shock gave way to amusement, and a very big smile appeared on his face and then boisterous laughter that had him throwing his head back.

Who would have thought that his prim and proper Duchess could fly off the handle in such a violent way?

One minute she was sitting down primly beside him, the next moment the contents of her soup bowl were finding a new home on Nathaniel's face. He had always known that his beautiful Duchess was a firecracker, but then he had never seen her in the grip of rage, and damn was she magnificent.

Of course, his heart warmed to see her defend him. It was the first time someone stood to defend him, and he could not help the foolish, goody grin he could feel on his face. And, of course, he could not deny the fact that it was satisfying to see someone put his annoying brother in his place.

"I would advise that you wipe that foolish smile off your face." Nathaniel's voice caused him to turn towards him. "And keep that feral cat you call a wife at home, will you?"

Like magic, the smile disappeared from Alexander's face and was replaced with red-hot rage. He slowly rose to his full height and then placed his hands on the table, making sure to corner his brother using the bulk of his body, to intimidate him. He watched as the look of arrogance in Nathaniel's eyes transformed into fear. The man was many things, but he was primarily a coward at heart.

"I would strongly advise you, dear brother," he said, speaking slowly, his words dripping with so much menace that it was difficult to mistake the barely restrained rage behind them, "to desist from insulting my Duchess because if you do not—" He allowed his lips to curl into a sinister smile, enjoying the shiver of fear that Nathaniel could not quite hide. "—a wardrobe malfunction will be the least of your problems."

He pushed off the table and went in search of his wife, making sure to ignore the curious murmuring of the members of the ton present.

He was sure tomorrow that a brand-new story would be generated in the gossip mills to satiate the appetites of Society gossips, but at present, his goal was to locate his beautiful wife and take her back home, where they should have spent the day, in his now revised opinion.

* * *

Helen would never have guessed in her wildest dreams that a day would come when she would be so embarrassed that she would wish the ground would open up and swallow her.

She had always prided herself on her ability to embody the perfect noble lady with her perfect manners and etiquette—at least in public. She always looked down and criticized people who made spectacles of themselves by throwing fits in public. But it appears she had just successfully joined their ranks in the worst possible way.

It didn't help that even she had not seen it coming. Alexander's brother had rubbed her the wrong way from the first day they were introduced, and the fact that he had contributed to hurting Alexander in the past did not help her have charitable thoughts about him. But she had tried her best, since she believed he was family and hence she was meant to accept him.

The man had started annoying her with the open disrespect and then the petty annoying side comments. She had ignored them all, but when he turned the venom on Alexander, her vision turned red with rage, and before she knew it, Nathaniel was wearing the contents of her soup bowl, and she was not even remotely remorseful. She fled because she didn't trust herself not to do even nastier things to the nasty man, regardless of the other guests present in the dining hall.

It took some time of her pacing the length of the lawn outside the hall for her to recover a little bit of calm. and with that came the realization of the full consequences of her actions. She had just, in one fit of rage, destroyed all the hard work Alexander had put into this event to maintain his reputation, and she felt so guilty for making herself an obstacle to his progress. She wondered how she was going to approach Alexander again when she saw him.

Just then, she felt a strong pair of hands hug her from behind, and she jumped in surprise. She stomped on her attacker's foot as hard as she could, nearly using her head to hit his jaw in self-defense.

"Relax, sweet, it's just me," Alexander said with a groan. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "I tend to hear a lot of things in English ballrooms."

"It's impressive you could learn this with little instruction," he observed.

She guessed she was so lost in thought that she had not noticed him coming up behind her.

"I can hear the wheels turning in your head," he said with a tone of amusement in his voice. "Why are you thinking so much?"

Taking a deep breath, she made to turn in his arms, so she could see his face and gauge his reaction while she apologized, but Alexander held fast.

"Let's stay like this for a while. You can talk with me this way," he suggested, proceeding to nuzzle her neck in an arousing manner.

"Alex, I really want to apologize for the embarrassment I caused you inside the hall," she said in a small voice. "It was improper of me as a duchess to lack the ability to hold my tongue?—"

"And soup—" he added with a laugh.

"Alex!" she scolded.

"What is it?" he asked, placing his chin on her head.

"I'm trying to apologize for embarrassing you."

"Oh, but, darling, you didn't embarrass me," he observed, chuckling. "Darling, you were simply magnificent."

"If you are angry with me, I would prefer you show it. You are scaring me. I expected you to explode with rage because I ruined your carefully concocted plan with my outlandish behavior. What has happened?"

"Well, you did nothing I have not imagined doing a thousand times over. The coward deserved it, and you just administered justice, that's all."

"Besides," he continued, "it was immensely satisfying to see somebody put Nathaniel in his place. You should have seen his face when you threw the soup. It was priceless, really."

His laugh eased the discomfort she was feeling, but it hadn't completely abated. She knew she had set the tongues of the ton wagging.

"I guess he never imagined that the proper Duchess of Blackhill would do that. In his defense, though, I was thoroughly surprised myself," she said, laughing with him.

"Well, you did good today, and your acting was so believable, I am sure everyone has the established opinion that we are a love match. Well done, darling."

And just like that, the amusement and light-heartedness disappeared and were replaced with such profound disappointment that her chest ached with it.

So Alexander really thought that she had feigned her feelings for him. She had thought that they were getting to know each other, but it seemed they were no better than strangers to each other if he truly believed she could feign such deep emotions on a whim.

It really hurt to think that he thought she was that duplicitous in character to be able to feign deep emotions she didn't feel. She knew that he didn't love her, but over this time, she had thought that he had at least developed a tender spot for her, but it seemed she was wrong, and she had just had a one-sided love affair with him.

Unfortunately, she knew how one-sided love could turn into resentment and ruin happy memories, so it seemed it was time to let go, even if it felt as painful as severing a limb.

Gradually, she pushed at Alexander's arms until he loosened his embrace and turned her to look at him, his brow furrowed in concern.

"What is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," she said, forcing a smile even though she desperately wanted to weep. "I just realized that the three nights we agreed on are over."

For some time, his expression remained one of confusion until she saw the moment the memory dawned on him, and the look of confusion cleared.

"Yes, I believe so," he answered tentatively.

"I wonder if you have forgiven me, since I have kept my part of the bargain."

"Yes, I forgive you."

"Good," she said, forcing a cheer in her voice that she didn't feel. "I guess this is the point where we part ways to enjoy our independent lives happily."

A shutter dropped over Alexander's expression, and just like that, the Ruthless Duke returned once again.

"I believe so," he said, chillingly polite.

The dull pain in Helen's chest drove home to her how much she had hoped that he would prove her wrong and suggest they change their plans, but it seemed they had different plans in mind when they thought about the future.

"I'll inform the driver we are to leave now."

"All right," she agreed, watching him walk away, each step ripping her heart from her chest.

* * *

The drive back to the castle was gloomy, to say the least. They sat side by side, but they might as well have been a million miles away from each other, with the way they were both lost in their thoughts. Helen managed to hold herself together till she got home and went up to her chambers. Once inside her chamber, she cried herself to sleep, her soaked pillow the only testament to her pain.

She felt extremely foolish, ruining the bubble of happiness they were in by bringing up their contract, but seeing as he hadn't even attempted to dissuade her, she knew it was best she saved what little pride she had left.

She fell asleep to thoughts of what could have been between them if only she'd kept silent.

The next morning, Alexander stood at his window, looking over the entrance of the castle and the carriage that was stationed there.

In a few minutes, Helen emerged in a smart traveling dress, footmen trailing behind her, loading her luggage onto the vehicle.

Anger had blinded him when she'd brought up their contract, when for that brief moment, he'd forgotten that they weren't an actual couple.

He was going to suggest they continue their ruse, but if she wanted to leave, he was more than willing to let her go. When all was packed, she turned and looked straight up at him, or rather the window, since he knew she couldn't see him. It was too high up.

The ache that had been residing in his chest since the previous night worsened, and so did his mood. With that one look, Helen extended her hand to the footman and disappeared into the coach. The carriage started moving, carrying her away from him. He watched the carriage until he couldn't see it anymore, and with each mile it covered, the ache turned into actual pain, and he sank into his seat in his study, reaching for his whisky bottle.

He had done the right thing, he tried to tell himself even though his subconscious was beating him for letting her go.

She deserved to have an uncomplicated life, and she would have a good life away from his manipulative family and the trouble they cloaked themselves with as a shroud.

Yes, he had done well, he told himself while he downed the glass of whiskey, welcoming the burning sensation down his throat. It was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.