Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alice did not wait for the ball to begin her assault on the Duke and his wellbeing. He’d had the audacity of kissing her—had, moreover, the audacity of making her like it—and she would not stand for such impudence!
He had asked if she would ruin him, and she had told him the truth.
She started with small things.
After watching his routine for several days, a pattern began to emerge.
He would rise relatively early for breakfast, disappear out to one of his clubs after, would perhaps dine there at noon, and would return in the late afternoon to address matters of business in his study or library.
After that would come dinner, which she tended to avoid, and he usually whiled away the hours in the library or left the house again for an engagement.
Those were rare, however, and she doubted he was attending balls or soirees without her.
The first step she took was to venture into the kitchens and change the menu for both breakfast and dinner. When dining with her aunt and uncle, she had noticed him pull a face at liver, and so she requested a dinner of chopped liver and onions. Then, for breakfast, she requested kippers.
And, for the first time since she arrived at the house, she ventured down for breakfast at the same time as him. For her plan to work, she would have to see his reaction.
Another thought had occurred to her, too. Men usually felt as though they were entitled to their wives, and he had proven he wanted her.
Thus, if she humiliated him and made him want her, that would be the best kind of revenge.
Perfect.
The gown she wore wasn’t scandalous by any measure—but it clung to her figure in a way that made her feel suddenly, acutely aware of her own body.
The fabric, soft and dusk-blue, traced the lines of her waist and hips with gentle insistence, far more closely than her usual, more modest attire.
She had considered changing. She hadn’t.
When she stepped into the breakfast room, he looked up—and stilled. His gaze drifted over her slowly, deliberately, and lingered.
So long, in fact, that heat crept up her neck. For one wild, irrational moment, she wished she could cast aside her walking stick and glide across the room without the reminder of her injury.
“Alice.” His voice was low, roughened by sleep—or something else. He shoved back his chair, rising to meet her with a sudden, quiet intensity. “I—I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
“This is my house too, is it not?” She ignored his proximity, and the memory of his mouth against hers. Her stomach fluttered, and she ignored that, too. “I can go wherever I please.”
“Naturally,” he said dryly, returning to his place at the head of the table. “But I had not expected you to be pleased at the prospect of spending time with me.”
“I was famished.” She reached for the kippers, placing one on her plate. He eyed the fish askance, but to her disappointment, said nothing. If he suspected her of having interfered in the kitchen, he was doing an excellent job of hiding it.
She did notice, however, the way his gaze lingered on the dipped bodice of her gown, especially when she leaned over the table for some toast.
“How are the preparations for the ball?” he asked.
“Well, I think they’re going well. I’ve arranged for flowers to be delivered tomorrow, and some men are coming to draw chalk on the ballroom floor. The servants have their instructions.” She cut open the fish, and steam rose into the air. His nostrils flared with an almost imperceptible wince.
Excellent, another thing she learned he disliked.
She would ensure kippers were on the menu for every breakfast between now and the end of time, and she would attend every mealtime so long as she could ensure he endured the discomfort!
A small revenge, but one well worth the taking.
“The physician will arrive today,” he began, and she wondered if he had found his own form of revenge. They were both mocking one another. How very ironic.
“I do not wish to see another physician. I have been seeing one for five years.”
“You will see him, Alice,” the Duke declared sternly, and when she glanced up, she saw ire in his eyes that had not been there previously. “I will make sure of it, even if it means holding you down so he can examine you. Do you understand?”
She blinked, momentarily shocked by his pronouncement. “…Yes.”
“Good.” He returned to his breakfast of toast.
Next, she would remove the jam.
Already, she had requested the kippers replace the eggs and bacon. She’d expected him to call for more food, but he had not done so.
“I would rather not resort to such things, but I will if it ensures your well-being,” he spoke into the measured silence.
“You have high opinions of this doctor,” she murmured.
“I have heard he’s the best of the best. He may have some exercises you have not tried before. And if not?” He gave an elegant shrug. “At least we will know for certain and will have exhausted every avenue.”
Alice did not want to feel anything approaching gratitude toward him, so she rationalized it in her head.
Of course, he would want a wife whom the ton would not look down on, and he would want assurances that any children they bore—not that she would be allowing that if she had any say in the matter—would be healthy.
Nothing about this had anything to do with her.
When she glanced up, the Duke was watching, and she gave him a sweet smile.
“I shall see you at dinner, Your Grace,” she said, ignoring the small flicker of irritation that passed across his face.
Good—another way she might prove herself to be a thorn in his side.
With that, she exited the breakfast room, a slice of toast in her hand and the fish cut up across her plate.
Alice did not particularly care for kippers, either.
When the physician arrived, as promised, he looked every inch the part of a grand London doctor, dressed almost entirely in black with small spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He entered the room where she sat and bowed.
“Your Grace. Felicitations on your recent nuptials.”
Alice inclined her head. No part of her believed this would actually work, but it seemed hope had not truly died within her after all, because she found herself wondering if this time might be different.
One could dream.
“Will you explain your symptoms to me?” he asked after settling before her. “And the manner by which this happened?”
She explained about the accident, then described her symptoms. The pain, her wasted muscle, the trouble she had walking. As she did, she gestured to her walking stick, which lay—as always—propped beside her.
“I see…” he murmured, face utterly inscrutable as he listened. “May I see?”
Alice reached down for the hem of her skirts, bringing them up to her knees. The physician sat on a small stool before her, and he picked up her leg, placing it gently on his thigh as his fingers probed the muscle.
“Well?” she asked weakly, holding back a groan as the stiff muscle objected to his exploration. But at the same time, this was a good pain—a deep ache that suggested relief once it was over.
As he found a particularly tender spot, she let out a soft noise. Not quite a moan, but not far away.
The physician did not so much as blink, but there was a sound from the doorway, and when Alice looked up next, it was to see the Duke’s eyes on her.
She hadn’t even known he had returned home from wherever he went to, and it hadn’t occurred to her that he would endeavor to be around for when the physician visited.
She sucked in a breath as the Duke’s hands flexed on the doorframe. His eyes were dark, his mouth in a grim line, and he drew in a long breath through his nose.
“Thank you for coming to see my wife,” he muttered, unnecessary emphasis on the word wife, considering they had been married so recently. He strode to sit beside her on the sofa, and the room immediately felt too close. Claustrophobic. “Is there anything that can be done?”
The doctor took her ankle and rolled slowly. “Difficult to know for certain at this juncture,” he said brusquely, so focused on his task, he didn’t seem to notice the Duke’s glower.
Alice certainly did, though she did not understand what he meant by it when he had been the one to invite the man over.
“There is hope, however. She must do exercises to build up resilience in the muscle once more. And regular massages will increase blood flow.” He demonstrated what he meant, digging his thumb into her calf, and her eyelids fluttered.
“I understand,” the Duke stated curtly.
“I also recommend plenty of red meat,” the doctor added. “To build up her strength. This leg may never have the strength of the other, but in time, she may be able to walk some distance without assistance.”
Alice’s breath caught in her throat at the thought. “And ride?” she quickly asked.
“Yes, I imagine with some assistance that you may be able to ride as well as you ever did,” the physician smiled warmly as he met her gaze.
The Duke rose immediately. “Thank you, sir. This has been most illuminating. Do you have any other recommendations?”
The physician showed her how to stretch and what exercises she ought to do, the Duke observing all the while, before finally leaving.
Alice rose, using her stick to support herself as she experimented with one of the stretches. Her muscle burned, but the massaging he had given the muscle eased the ache that went along with it.
Added blood flow, he had said.
Was it possible that she might have a future, after all?
When the Duke came back into the room, the cloud on his brow still not having lifted, she forgot that they were at odds and she despised him.
“I never thought it possible,” she said in a dazed voice.
“Thought what was possible?” he asked.
“That I might walk again.”
He blinked, and some of the grimness left his face. “As you so eloquently put, I am an affluent man, Alice. If something is possible, I will find a way of achieving it.”
All their past came rushing back into the space between them. He was a rich and influential man, and because of that, he had escaped the justice that ought to have followed him after her parents’ deaths.
For a moment, she had almost been grateful…
With her stick, she had little dignity to hand, but she endeavored to find it anyway, sweeping past him and to the stairwell. “I will get Jenny to massage my leg,” she announced. “And I will try these exercises.”
He watched her go with dark eyes, and she half thought he would inform her that he would be taking charge of her exercises and massages, but he said nothing, merely watched her painstakingly climb the stairs.
At least he hadn’t offered to help her. She thought she would have expired from the shame of it.
But no matter what kindness he showed at occasional intervals, she could not allow herself to forget who he was and what he had done to her. Nothing could sway her from her task of ruining him as effectively as he had ruined her.