19. Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
S unlight sparkled across the lake’s surface as Alice approached, her boots crunching softly against the gravel path. She caught sight of two figures near the small dock—Elias and Victor standing close together, deep in conversation. Their heads were bent toward each other, Victor’s hand gripping the duke’s shoulder with obvious urgency. Neither had noticed her approach.
As she drew closer, she could make out the tension in Elias’s stance, the way his hands moved as he spoke in low, intense tones. Whatever they discussed seemed deeply important. She cleared her throat delicately, announcing her presence before she could overhear anything not meant for her ears.
Both men turned sharply. Victor’s serious expression melted into something more casual as he stepped back from his friend.
“I shall make myself scarce,” he said, pausing briefly beside Elias, his voice dropping to barely more than a whisper. “Give her the Poet’s Treatment.”
Though Alice couldn’t make sense of the strange instruction, Elias seemed to understand perfectly. He gave a solemn nod.
“I will.”
Victor offered them both a quick bow before sauntering off toward Fairfax Hall, his red coat a bright splash of color against the morning green. Alice watched him go, a curious warmth spreading through her chest.
“Good afternoon, Miss Montrose,” Elias said, bringing her attention back.
“Your Grace,” she replied, her words more clipped than he would have liked.
Elias approached the small rowboat tethered at the dock, his movements precise as he steadied it against the wooden planks. His grip was firm but gentle as he helped Alice aboard, the vessel rocking slightly beneath her feet. She settled onto the cushioned seat, arranging her pale yellow skirts carefully around her ankles.
The duke joined her with surprising grace for such a large man, though his weight made the boat dip precariously for a moment. He took up the oars, and soon they were gliding across the mirror-smooth surface of the lake.
The water spread out before them like polished glass, broken only by their rippling wake. Beyond its far shore, Alice could make out Violet Cottage nestled among towering oaks, its ivy-covered walls seeming both inviting and somehow melancholy in the morning light. Wisps of smoke rose from its chimney, curling lazily into the cloudless sky.
Alice leaned over slightly, catching her reflection in the still water. Her new morning dress—another gift from the dowager—was the color of fresh cream with delicate embroidered rosebuds at the collar and cuffs. The sun beat down with surprising intensity for the season, and she opened her parasol, creating a small bit of shade.
Elias rowed them toward the center of the lake with smooth, practiced strokes. The silence between them grew taut, broken only by the gentle splash of oars and distant birdsong. Alice’s mind whirled with all the things left unsaid between them, each passing moment making her more acutely aware of his presence.
Finally, he spoke.
“I must apologize for how I have treated you,” he said, his voice carrying clearly across the small space between them. “It appears some cruel twists of fate have dealt us a rather bad hand again and again. Despite that, it is no excuse.”
“You keep apologizing, and I will continue to tell you there is nothing to apologize for.” Alice met his gaze steadily. “You were right to come to your friend’s aid.”
He rubbed his hands together, looking out across the water as though gathering his thoughts. “You know what they’re trying to do, do you not? Your mother, the Dowager Countess, Lacey, even Lady Fairfax ...”
She let out a breath through her nose.
“It has come to my attention that many of our acquaintances are playing the matchmaker.”
“May I speak frankly, Miss Montrose?” When she nodded, he continued, “I must confess, I am not very good at this.”
“At what?”
“At difficulty.” He shifted in his seat, the boat rocking slightly. “To be a duke is to live a charmed life, and I, the youngest with three sisters—why, I was doted upon, given a dukedom—a fortune. It opens so many doors that when one closes, it does not require me to face it. I move on to the next thing my fortune affords me.”
“It sounds as though you are very lucky indeed,” Alice whispered.
“I am. But it has not led to the life I wish for, caught in a cycle of fruitless endeavors. I am in my thirtieth year and have not yet taken a wife, whilst everyone around me is already wed with children. And here I am.”
“Surely you will find a suitable lady, no matter whom you choose.”
His face softened at her words, recognizing the truth in them. He reached for her hands, and she found herself struck by their warmth, their strength. These could be her husband’s hands, if she only played her part well. She offered him her prettiest smile in return.
“You are lovely,” he said, “when you are not overcome with illness or within the general vicinity of Captain Lacey.”
Alice sighed, closing her eyes as she squeezed his hands.
“I know it was wrong to gossip, and I?—”
“It is understandable. There are times I forget just how dark that man’s heart can get.” Elias stared into the water, some memory clearly weighing on him before he blinked it away. “But he remains one of the most important persons in my life. And if I were to contemplate matrimony, she who becomes my wife would need to abide his presence at social gatherings for the rest of our days. If you truly find him so intolerable, then this cannot proceed any further.”
Alice nodded. It was a reasonable request, though it vexed her that Victor Lacey should have such influence over her potential happiness.
“I have spoken with him about tempering his poor manners,” Elias continued, choosing his words with care. “And while I cannot expect promises from you, as we are not engaged to each other ... it would mean a great deal to me if you were to cultivate an amiable relationship with the man.”
“I understand. Thank you for being so forthright.”
“As much as I adore the people in that building,” he gestured toward Fairfax Hall, “there’s a way we dance around our problems rather than meet them directly. I must admit, it is something I admire about Captain Lacey. In the past few years, he has determined to free himself of most social obligations.”
“You’re telling me he was not always so direct?”
“He has always been somewhat rough around the edges, but there was a time when he was the very model of genteel behavior.”
“What happened?”
“It is not my story to tell. He is a private man, but perhaps he will confide in you once he warms to you.”
Alice nodded, her gaze drifting back to Fairfax Hall, gleaming in the distance. The dowager’s words echoed in her mind—that Victor had already warmed to her, despite his prickly exterior. She wondered at the disparity between what everyone seemed to see in the man.
A question that had been nagging at her suddenly surfaced.
“This morning, when I arrived, Captain Lacey said something to you. ‘Give her the Poet’s Treatment.’ What did he mean by that?”
Elias took up the paddles again, adjusting their position on the lake. He paused with the oars suspended, droplets falling like diamonds back into the water as he considered his response.
“There was a person we both knew, whom we nicknamed the Poet,” he said carefully. “This person was kind to anyone, almost to a fault. I believe Victor wished me to show you similar consideration.”
“The Poet’s Treatment,” she echoed softly.
“I promise you, I rarely lose my composure as I did yesterday,” Elias said as he rowed them around the lake, his muscles working visibly beneath his coat. “Though I have had my share of altercations with rogues and scoundrels at various establishments, only my sisters and Lacey have witnessed such displays of temper. Should you ever find me in such a state again, pray, correct my behavior. I would be grateful for it.”
“I shall hold you to that promise.”
He paused for a moment, then took a breath.
“I do not mean to be too forward or speak out of place,” Elias said as they floated listlessly. “But I feel a tug to say it, anyway. If you need someone to speak to, an ear of someone who will truly listen, know that I am willing to be that. Anytime you need.”
She gave him a queer look, unsure why he thought she would need his ear, unless he had sensed perhaps the chaos of her interior life. But she finally nodded, and that seemed to be enough for him.
“I look forward to knowing you better during the remainder of this holiday, Miss Montrose.”
“And I, you.”
She watched as he rowed—the sunlight catching the powerful lines of his shoulders, the graceful movement of his arms. He was everything a woman could want—kind, capable, and undeniably handsome. Yet her thoughts kept straying to his condition about Victor. She shook her head slightly, trying to banish the captain from her mind. She should focus on the duke before her—this beautiful gentleman who could be her salvation.
When they reached the dock, Elias jumped out first, his boots splashing slightly in the shallow water. He extended his hand to help her from the boat, and when she was safely on solid ground, he did not release her. She turned to face him and found him much closer than expected, his grey eyes intense as they met hers.
He lifted her hand to his lips, maintaining eye contact as he pressed a kiss to her gloved knuckles. She could feel the warmth of his mouth through the thin fabric, and waited for her heart to race, for her breath to catch, for any sensation at all.
She should feel it. Love. Adoration.
Something.
The moment was more than perfect—the sunlit lake, the handsome duke, his tender gesture—and she felt only a mild flutter, like a bird beating its wings against a cage, trying to reach something outside, bright, and shining and real, just beyond its grasp.
Still, she offered him her most radiant smile—the very picture of a young lady enchanted by a duke’s attention.
And in that moment, he believed her performance entirely.