Chapter 13

Day 5

When she arrived this morning, he was standing before the lake, staring at the distance as though he was deep in thoughts. She pointedly ignored him and headed to the door, not bothering to make a polite greeting. She swore she would not say a word to him ever again. She entered the studio and changed her clothes quickly. When she was walking to the settee, something caught her eye.

A picture of a beautiful woman put on an easel next to the painting collection. Deeply fascinated, she moved closer, staring thoroughly at the painting. Although the woman in the painting held a little resemblance with him, she knew immediately who she was. She had a tender looking pair of hazel eyes. Unlike him, her whole expression was kind and gentle.

"You're right."

His voice startled her all in a sudden. She turned her head instantly and saw him standing beside her. He was staring at the picture.

"She wanted me to remember her."

"How did you know?"

All the intention for absolute reticence during the hours slipped away, unintentionally forgotten in his presence.

"I found a letter from her."

"A long lost letter?"

"It wasn't lost. Actually I have abandoned it for years."

He made a short pause, as if he was scared his voice would crack and tremble.

"I left the last gift from her unopened in over a decade, until last night."

There was something about him that so sad and forlorn, and an unexpected tenderness roused inside her.

"It's not supposed to be easy, isn't it? To go through such experience at an early age. Not many who can undergo a situation like yours."

He turned his head to meet her eyes and said softly.

"I have to thank you. If not for you, I would never find it."

Her cheeks crested with embarrassment, and she said something to divert his attention.

"It must be a heartfelt gift."

His eyes darted down at something in his hand.

"She gave me this, along with the letter."

In an unconscious ease, she approached him to have a look at the necklace in his hand. Contrasting to the size of his hand, the beautifully engraved locket looked tiny and delicate. He opened the locket in his palm carefully, the portrait inside stared back at her. Knowing that he shared something meaningful from his past with her evoked a queer feeling, mixed with a slight wistfulness.

"It's a very thoughtful gift. Why don't you wear it?"

He considered her question for several seconds.

"I don't wear jewelry."

"I think she gave you a necklace with her portrait inside with a purpose. She wanted you to hold her next to your heartbeat."

"Really? How did you know?"

"I read it in some book."

She knew some people wore a tiny painting of their beloved as a bracelet close to the pulsing vein or a pendant close to the beating heart. She always thought the idea was so romantic.

"Do you think she would want me to wear this?"

She nodded, smiling at him sincerely.

"Close to you is where she truly belong. I'm sure there's nowhere she'd rather be."

He lifted his gaze to hers and looked straight into her eyes. He looked mesmerized as if she just cast a spell on him, but his eyes had their charm too, they held her spellbound. For a moment, they just stood and stared into each other's eyes. Something shifted and stirred in the air around them. Suddenly she got aware of the peculiar sensation, the curious atmosphere that always surrounding her in some certain moments with him. She stepped back, as though she wanted to step out from the invisible mystic fog.

He blinked, and the magic dispersed as if the spell had been broken. He looked away several seconds before looking down on the necklace in his hand again. He put it in his pocket. Close to his throbbing heart, as she said, he couldn't remember her words precisely, but she meant something like that. She was terribly romantic, and she had her way of touching his heart.

With each passing day, he found that she wasn't a cunning woman like he imagined at first. He recalled his mockery and cruelty to her in the past, and felt a sudden strong feeling of remorse, imagining how bad he had hurt her. She didn't deserve all the pain and suffering he had caused her. He cast his eyes down on the glossed black leather of his boot, his mouth slightly opened as he struggled to utter a word. He took a breath in a quiet sigh instead, before finally said.

"I should apologize for the misery I caused you."

She was dazed, couldn't believe what she heard. She stared at him with rounded eyed surprise. To hear kind words from him was unimaginable, but to hear an apology from him was a miracle. At least it was for her.

"I'm sorry I stand in your way. It must be hell for you."

He struggled to choke the words out, and the way he delivered it with pain in his voice, made her heart squeezed.

Since it was simply unexpected, it took a while for her to reply.

"Never mind that now. His parents would have done it if you didn't. He and I, we're simply a mismatch. If I knew right from the start he was of nobility, I would be reasonable to never let myself get in any kind of entanglement with him."

"It's a shame you couldn't have been made more decent."

She watched his expression carefully, wondered if he was being sarcastic, but she saw true remorse in his eyes.

"I wish I got to know you earlier..." he said.

'so I can claim your heart first.' whispered his inner voice.

"... so I wouldn't have treated you so bad."

It moved her heart knowing that he meant it. Strangely, she felt a curious need to soothe him.

"It's all right. It's probably for the best. It would not end well between me and him."

He answered with silence as words failed him. What did he suppose to say about it? In another life, she might have a happy ending with any man she loved, but for now, unfortunately she was simply doomed to be unmarriageable.

"The hour grows late already, shall we start?" she said, desperate to break the long, awkward silence. They started and everything went just like the days before.

"How did you know me when we first met?" she asked him after some time. She had always been curious about it from the first time.

"I saw you in Lady Godwin's evening soiree." He replied without moving his gaze from the canvas.

"Really?" Her brows drawn as she tried to remember that night.

"I only stayed for a couple of minutes because... my betrothed had to attend another event, and I had never been introduced to you."

"Everybody knew you. You were the talk of the town at the time."

She felt slightly embarrassed, recalling how she stirred a commotion everywhere she went at the time. Men stopped to stare and women whispered to each other behind their fans.

"We were leaving shortly after my betrothed greeted the host. You surely just had a short glimpse of me. How could you still remember my face?"

"How could I not?"

What was the meaning behind his answer? It was like he was saying her face was not easy to forget.

"I guess nothing escapes your eagle eye. I was styled and dressed to perfection in London, it's curious how you could still recognize me when I looked so plain and poorly dressed."

"That didn't eclipse you."

It was just short, simple words, but she was flattered. Was it her imagination or was he flirting subtly with her right now? It roused her curiosity. He made ambiguous remarks that sounded almost like a compliment. And it became harder to interpret since he said it casually, without a teasing glance or a playful smile. He was unpredictable. One moment he was callous, next he was indeed toned with softness. He was anything but a man of her dream, but he seemingly had a mysterious way to charm her. Much to her surprise, the hours flew by so fast today. It didn't feel long and torturing like the days before. It rather felt quite comfortable, she thought she could be used to it. The thought startled her. How could she think of something like that? There must be something wrong with her.

As she made her way home, walking down the street in relentless disturbance, she saw three village girls starring in fascination as a young handsome lad walked past them. The man was really good looking indeed, though not as stunning as the duke. No man could be as mesmerizingly handsome as he was. The man smiled flirtatiously to the girls and they blushed and giggled in excitement.

"Don't hope too much, Emma, or it's going to break your heart." One of the girl said between giggles.

"Don't be ridiculous." The girl beside her replied playfully.

"It's just a silly crush, not like I'm going to fall hopelessly in love with him."

That was right. It was just something like that. An attraction that sparked in a situation where she was trapped alone with him within hours. In addition, his sad story had tugged at her heartstrings, it made her develop a tender feeling for him. She didn't need to trouble herself with worry and guilt. It took times for a simple attraction to grow into something more, and their time together would soon come to an end. Henceforth, this delicate feeling would soon fade away with the passage of time.

******

Day 6

Their time together would soon come to an end. He suggested her to finish the flower painting today, so she was sitting on the stool and applying color to the outlined petals. Something had changed significantly between them since yesterday. She was completely at ease with him now she dared to ask the question that rouse her curiosity so far.

"I know gentlemen practicing swordplay for exercise. My father practices boxing and fencing frequently as well, but I'm sure he cannot do what you did."

He watched her for a short while and replied bluntly.

"You mean, killing people."

She swallowed, trying to find a tactful choice of words.

"I mean... you are very well trained in... fighting art, armed and unarmed. Does your family have a military background?"

He returned his focus on the canvas.

"My grandparents were killed in a robbery while traveling, along with some servants. As the only person survived in the incident, my uncle was obsessed with fighting arts ever since. He learned from some of the best fighters in Europe, and he determined to make it a culture in our family. He trained both of us from a very young age."

She remembered how skillful Magnus was when practicing swordplay with the captain. She recalled Magnus once said that he never killed anyone, and he could never do that. She trusted Magnus would never be able to do such horrible things. But this one, from her recollection of what happened some time ago, surely it wasn't the first time for him. She asked carefully.

"Were you trained to... to kill your enemies?"

"It's not the purpose, but it's part of the training. We are not supposed to do it unless necessary."

"You said it's part of the training, what does that mean?"

"Forget it. It's nothing fit for your ear."

"I saw you killing the villains before my very eyes. I heard their scream and the bone-cracking sound. It couldn't be more dreadful than that."

"If you insist," He considered it for a while.

"My uncle brought us some captured villains once. Murderers and rapists, the worst kind of villains. We are ordered to terminate them all."

"What happened then?"

"The task was well performed. We were ordered to perform the task occasionally since then. My uncle believed that we had to be trained mentally as well as physically."

Suddenly she was feeling ill. Imagining defenseless people being slaughtered, they must have begged for mercy, they must have been in great terror. What kind of man Magnus' father was? He made slaying a part of the training for two young men. They were no more than boys at the time. They were probably underage. She blurted the question before she had the chance to consider it.

"He said he never killed anyone. Did he..."

She couldn't finish the sentence.

"No." He answered as if her mind could speak right to his.

"I did his part. Always. His father didn't know until now."

His cousin could never do such a thing. Magnus couldn't even see him completing the job, let alone doing it himself. He would leave the job to him, he always asked him to do it as quick and silent as he possibly could, so he didn't have to hear any scream of death.

"How did you feel about... about the task. It wasn't you who initiated it at the first place. Was it a burden to you?"

Or if he still had any conscience, is it a burden to him? It wasn't something one did and then forgot after some time.

"It doesn't matter. Like it or not, somebody has to do it."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Somebody has to protect the weak and innocent. It's the purpose of what we do. If we released those villains, what do you think would have happened then? Endless repetition of murder and rape to innocent people."

"Killing for self-defense or protecting the innocent is acceptable but killing the defenseless for a sort of training is horrible. Did you ever regret what you did?"

He remembered the terrible feeling of compunction that haunted him the first time he did it. He had battled with his conscience ever since.

"It was proven to be useful and necessary." He echoed the words of reassurance he used to put his mind at rest anytime a guilty conscience hit him.

"A couple of years ago, a group of mercenary soldiers invaded this land. This is one of the wealthiest district of the country. This whole region was occupied. They attacked the civils and took some of the women. As you know, this is not London when you can rely on the Royal Army as soon as the assault takes place. We could call for help but it would took at least two days for the help to come. Can you imagine how much damage and death would have happened during the wait?"

She had been living in a peaceful sheltered life in all her twenty years, she never imagined such dreadful things could happen in a quiet village.

"It was horrible. What happened next?"

"My uncle sent me, along with my cousin and a handful of men in a surprise attack on the legion in the middle of the night. Our mission succeeded with no victim on our side."

"Was there anyone left from the other side?"

"No. It would risk a deadly revenge in the future."

She shuddered at the image of the bloody night.

"Was he coming as well?"

"Yes."

"Did he participate in the..." She couldn't find a delicate word to say slaughter or massacre.

"He helped us to beat those men, but he left it to me and the other men to do the rest."

She almost expelled a sigh of relief. Absolutely grateful that her man wasn't a ruthless assassin like this one. However, it wasn't all his fault to be that savage and inhuman. The absence of his parents in his younger days had left him under total domination of his uncle. He was initiated into such outrageous acts at an early age. His uncle had transformed him into the savage brute he was now. How Magnus could remain pure and untainted was truly a miracle. Thanks to him for doing his part.

She watched the man before her in a mixture of pity and dread. He wasn't lovable, he was capable of monstrous acts of violence. How he could live with that, she had no idea. How he could still eat, how he could still sleep at night. It wasn't all his fault but he had been incorrigibly damaged.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he said quietly.

"I didn't take pleasure in killing. I didn't enjoy that. I did it because I had to." Ironically, he never hunted animals, he hate the idea of killing for enjoyment.

"I believe I served a bigger purpose by doing it, to protect the innocent from harm. I know I did it for the right reasons. But somehow it didn't feel right. Sometimes I feel one day I will get my punishment for playing God."

He blurted the long existing feeling that always haunted him in the darkest hour of the nights. He never expressed it to anyone.

"Somehow I know I will suffer my death in a painful and untimely way."

Strangely she was terribly horrified by the very idea.

"No! Don't say such things. It would never happen to you."

She felt a strong urge to purge him of the unwanted feelings.

"You are not the same with the villains, you saved many lives by... by eliminating them. It took a great deal of courage to do that."

Despite her condemnation of the slaying, she was saying reassuring words to ease his conscience.

"Think about how many women you saved from the worst thing could ever happen to them, how many children you saved from losing their parents. You did the right thing."

He was mute now, and she wasn't certain if he was feeling better or not. She never imagined she would ever see him somewhat tortured and vulnerable, compassion flamed in her bowels for him.

"People like me live their life everyday, going to work, doing their thing, not really knowing that there are some people stand somewhere to guard them, to defend them, to make sure everything goes well. We make our lives everyday in the security you provide."

No matter how dreadful and monstrous it might look, the bloodshed saved lives. She had learned it by firsthand experience. She might prefer a merciful, compassionate man for herself, but the world was full with threats and dangers, and it took people like him to deal with that. And ironically she felt grateful for his existence that Magnus didn't have to make his hands bloodstained. Magnus didn't have to be troubled and tortured and damaged.

"I'm sorry for being judgmental and unfair. We sleep peacefully when you fight for us and stain your hands with blood. Not everyone could do it. You have a greater responsibility than I can imagine. This world needs someone who will fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. Someone like you."

Someone who was tough enough to battle his troubled conscience and sacrifice his own peace for others' welfare.

"You don't need to carry the burden forever. Anytime you feel the pain, just remember the many lives you saved, and not only in the present time. By saving them now, you also saved their future."

He had battled irrepressible guilt and uncertainty all along. He had hidden it beneath the cold surface. He never heard the opinion from another's perspective. It might not take the burden but somehow it lessened the weight. He turned his head towards her and found her watching him with a compassionate look in her eyes.

She was pure and genuine, she had never experienced such ugliness in her life. She was the bright morning sunshine and he was the black sky in the darkest hour of the night. His endless darkness would only steal her light. He had shed too much blood, his soul can never be purified. Even if they were in the same social standing, he would never fit her. She deserved a much better man.

"You still miss him, don't you?"

The question astonished her. She held her tongue, dared not to answer it. The next words stunned her even more.

"I wish I could let you see him again, but I can't..."

He halted several seconds.

"I can't betray his father. I owe him everything."

"Your uncle... Has he been kind to you all along?" She asked carefully.

"He has taken care of everything since... my father was away, before and after his death, and when I was too young to carry out the duty. He was the caretaker of this land and our family, and he did it selflessly, knowing the title, the power, the wealth went to someone else. Without him, this dukedom would have fallen apart during the hard times."

Surely he felt very indebted to his uncle, but she didn't find any expression of affection in his statement.

"He is almost like a father to you, isn't he?"

"He is like a father to me and much more, I can never pay him back. He is the most important person to me."

She could see that there was no emotional attachment, but he had unswerving loyalty to the older man. And such loyalty had the power to drive a person just as much.

She was contemplating him when he glanced at her, and she returned her focus on the canvas, seemed a little bit nervous. He had never been kind to her, he never knew he would hear kind words and reassurance from her. He felt sorry for her unfortunate relationship with his cousin. He wished he could take away the pain.

Again, a strand of hair fell over her eyes, impeding the view. She was just about to lift her hand to her face when he pushed her hand away gently. She looked up at him instantly, slightly taken aback by the lightness of his movement. He had never been gentle to her.

"You will make your face dirty." he said quietly.

His fingertips brushed her cheek lightly as he removed her hair so slowly, and she caught her breath with a sudden leap of heart. She looked straight into his eyes, the deep, glittering pool of blue, her heart beating rapidly in anticipation for... nothing. He tucked the hair back behind her ear, then he withdrew slowly and looked away, focusing on the canvas again. The faint trace of his fingers lingered on her skin like a warm caress. She breathed in relief it was not like what she had imagined. To her dismay, she also felt slightly disappointed. A sudden thought dreaded her. If truth be told, did she expect it to happen indeed?

It was because his extreme good looks, it was because his damnable charm, his nearness thrilled her like... like it would thrill any other girl. It was a natural attraction. She remembered years ago, father took her and Delilah to the theater, and they met the actor in the backstage. Delilah said she almost fainted when the actor greeted her and kissed her hand. Delilah said only hearing him say her name made her heart beat faster and her knees weakened. It was exactly like that. It was nothing like love. Not a chance, not at all. But still, she never felt like this before, just because of a simple gesture. She never felt this way for any man, until now.

Her mind was occupied with alarming questions as she walked home afterward. A carriage moved past her and slowed down, stopping right before her.

"Ava, dear. Where are you going?" A cheerful, familiar voice reached her, Lady Byrne's plump face appeared from the carriage window.

"Come in! I'll ride you home."

"That's very kind of you, my lady, but ..."

Lady Byrne waved her hand to stop the unnecessary politeness.

"We haven't seen each other these days, come on, let's have some talk."

She climbed into the carriage and found Mrs. Puck, the lady's old friend. They exchanged polite greetings and had a pleasant conversation.

"Ava dear, are you in a hurry? Do you need to go home very soon?"

"No, milady."

"Good, you have to go with us shopping. Find yourself some new dresses, darling. I'll pay for the purchases."

"What? You don't need to..."

Lady Byrne waved her hand again and cut her in.

"No big deal, actually it's me who's going to need your help, darling. My companion is taking a leave for a full month to take care of her sick mother and I have nobody to help carrying my things and escorting me anywhere. I probably will need some help from you within the time, but we'll talk about it later, after we're done with the shopping. I can't wait to see Marguerite's new collections..."

Ava couldn't quite fathom what the lady wanted from her. Soon they were strolling around the largest street in the town with dozens of the finest shops in both sides. Lady Byrne picked up this and that in almost every shop they passed by. The lady bought Ava some fine dresses too, and no matter how hard she tried to refuse, the lady fixed her with unshakable persistence. Ava watched in amazement of the heap of boxes in her hands, mostly the lady's purchases, but some of them were gifts for her.

They stopped at a little cafe in the corner of the street and had some muffins and tea. Ava was thinking about what was behind the lady's excessive generosity when suddenly the lady sprang up and dragged her from the table.

"We better get away from here! Quick! Betty, hurry, now!" The lady scurried down the street.

"My lady! What a pleasant surprise!"

A feminine voice called out from behind them. Lady Byrne halted at once.

"Drat..." The lady muttered quietly in the most unladylike manner. She spun on her heels very, very slowly. Ava turned to the same direction and saw a woman walking toward them.

The woman had a beautiful face, though not in classic English sort of way. She had a pair of provocative eyes, flirtatious and confident, along with a luscious mouth that seemed to smile mockingly most of the time. Her waist-length red hair flaming under the sun. Though she wasn't tall, she had a sultry body, deliciously curved the length of her in all the right places.

"Amanda..." Lady Byrne nodded primly and returned her greeting properly.

"It's been a long time."

"I sure didn't expect to see you here. Hello, Mrs. Puck." She glanced shortly to the lady's friend.

"You certainly may not leave now, we should have some talk." Amanda took the lady's hand, then she noticed Ava was standing next to the lady. Amanda stopped and stared at her, her eyes brushing her from head to toe, then back to her face.

"Your new maid?" She asked Lady Byrne, her eyes still lingering on her.

"Quite charming. Is she French?"

"Miss Ava Banks is a friend of mine, and she is a true-born Englishwoman. Ava dear, this is Amanda Bailey."

"It was, now I'm Mrs. Amanda Chapman." She corrected smugly, not bothering to nod or make a polite gesture toward her. Ava noticed quickly Amanda didn't care a bit of the introduction. She dragged the reluctant Lady Byrne back to the cafe.

The next minute, they were listening to Amanda talking about her spectacular honeymoon around Venice, France and Italy. From the conversation, Ava figured out that Amanda was born and raised in this town. She got married to a rich merchant about a year ago and moved with her husband to another town. Now she was visiting her parents.

"This county looks just the same as the last time I was here. Tell me, is there a new gossip, news, everything? Who's courting who? Who's marrying who?"

"The most anticipated event would be the duke's wedding."

Mrs. Puck replied enthusiastically.

"Do you know His Grace is going to marry the king's niece in a few months?"

"The king's niece? Wow, that's great! What a lucky lady."

"She is a very elegant lady. I've never seen anyone quite like her." said Mrs. Puck.

"I'll tell you a story if you promise me to keep it a secret." said Amanda, a mischievous smile touched her lips.

"The duke and I were lovers, and I'm his first woman."

Amanda got their undivided attention rightaway. The other women on the table now focused solely on her in stunned surprise, nobody was able to make a reply.

A proud smile curving Amanda's lips at their expression.

"It was a good long time ago when he was still so young, sixteen or seventeen perhaps... I'm older than him... only by a year or two..."

Amanda corrected when she saw her listeners frowning.

"I tell you, those days were terrific. He was one of the greatest lover I ever had."

Ava picked up her tea and took a quick, long swallow, feeling a sudden uneasiness stirred inside her.

"And he was not only prodigious in his wealth and achievement, but also in his performance and his ..." she paused deliberately to make a significant effect.

".....personal attribute."

Ava nearly spurted everything in her mouth at the last words. What a brazen woman she was. Such an unbelievably vulgar remarks. She stared at Amanda in shock and disgust.

"I'm impressed."

Lady Byrne retorted tartly with a straight face.

"By the way, how it could ever happen? Little chance he would have come to your house to court you, wasn't it?"

Amanda chuckled, reacting to the curt response in perfect indifference.

"I came to the manor every morning to bring the dairies, you know my father's farm served the household's needs at the time. I met him every single day."

Lady Byrne replied in unchanging expression, only arched her brow a little bit.

"Again, I wonder, how could it ever happen?"

"Yes, Amanda. How did it happen? I mean, how did it begin? How did he advance you for the first time?"

Mrs. Puck urged Amanda to tell more in pure enthusiasm, completely unaware of Lady Byrne's murderous glance.

"I always knew he wanted me, from the way he looked at me from the very first time, the gleam of desire in his eyes..."

Amanda halted and sipped her tea slowly, making the other women growing mad in anticipation.

"I daresay nobody knows he is very fond of painting. One day when I walked past him, he asked me to be his muse. He said he wanted to paint me."

Ava stiffened at once. The words echoing again and again in her head.

"And he really did paint me, at first. But it didn't last long. Soon he was overtaken by his wild passion and had his way with me. We had a torrid affair for months before I went to Paris..."

Amanda looked heavenwards with a dreamy smile as if she was musing on the passionate memories.

"You won't believe how wicked he could be. He whispered nasty things in my ear all the time when we made love. I didn't know how he could come up with such things, it was outrageously arousing..."

Ava got up suddenly with a loud sound of her chair grinding against the floor, startling the three women.

"Excuse me, milady. I think I should be leaving now. Mrs. Puck." She nodded to both women, not bothering to make any gesture to Amanda. The woman wasn't bothering to show her any politeness right from the start, and she wouldn't meet her again after this.

"I can't let you walk home all by yourself, dear. I'm taking you home now." said Lady Byrne.

"No, please don't bother, milady. It would be ..."

"I insist." Lady Byrne cut her in firmly. She got up and nodded at Amanda.

"Amanda, it's nice to see you, but I have to go now."

Amanda glanced at the lady nonchalantly, didn't seem to care to stand and make a curtsy. Such an ill-mannered woman, Ava thought.

"We should see each other again next time. There's a lot I want to tell you."

Lady Byrne hauled Ava and scurried away, leaving Mrs. Puck with the stack of boxes behind them. They entered the carriage and waited Mrs. Puck to come in. Soon the three were sitting in the running carriage.

"Why do we need to go so soon?"

Mrs. Puck peered back through the window, sounding more than a bit disappointed.

Lady Byrne tilted her head high and said in a cold voice.

"I don't want to waste my time listening rubbish. Amanda is too much of a braggart and a shameless liar. I daresay half of what she said is merely a lie."

"Which means the other half is true." Mrs. Puck replied mischievously, narrowing her eyes.

The lady glared at her.

"I'm not buying her shit whatsoever."

"Don't forget Amanda was chased by half of the men in this town in her younger days. You can't underrate her attraction." Mrs. Puck protested.

"A trustworthy source told me, Amanda is a sex goddess. One time with her is both a blessing and a curse. For the man will have the most terrific experience in his life, but no woman will ever be able to satisfy the man again."

Lady Byrne frowned with disgust.

"His Grace would have never considered her." She said respectfully.

"I trust he has quite a fine taste in women. Such a tawdry slut like Amanda would never have a chance."

"I think Amanda had slept with him."

Ava sat rigid in the corner as the two women arguing, listening to each word while a strong indignation burning inside her. Lady Byrne defended her virtuous duke wholeheartedly, spoke highly of him as too honorable to sleep with a woman out of wedlock.

"Nonsense!"

Mrs. Puck exclaimed in utter disbelief.

"I can't believe how naive you are! He couldn't be an untried youth!

For the first time, Ava wondered about such a thing. Lady Byrne continued like a persistent lawyer, asserting the fact that the duke had never been touched by gossip or scandal, especially the ones that relating him with a particular woman. Thus far, no woman had ever been associated with him. He had such an impeccable reputation in that matter. Ava wished she could be as convinced as the lady, but she wasn't.

She disliked Amanda at the very first sight, but now she discovered another reason for hating her. She was a shameless hussy, a tawdry slut like the lady said. She wished her boasting was a total lie, but she was afraid it was the truth. Even if it was only half true, it was bad enough.

Everything about Amanda radiating sheer sensuality. Her eyes were magical, mystical and her mouth was deliciously tempting.

Amanda's soft creamy skin was smooth and flawless. The few freckles sprinkled over her nose didn't make her face less appealing, they just accentuated her bright and warm complexion. Next to Amanda, her own complexion looked as dull and pale as a white porcelain vase.

Amanda's fiery red hair captured light in vibrant red-orange hues, tumbling over her shoulders like a flowing lava, her own black hair could never be a scorching flame under the sun like that.

Until now, she was perfectly happy with her well-proportioned figure, but it certainly could not compete with Amanda's generously endowed assets.

"I always knew he wanted me, from the way he looked at me from the very first time, the gleam of desire in his eyes..."

By firsthand experience, she knew he was not easy to impress. Did Amanda really grab his attention in the first place? She hardly believed it. Surely Amanda had her attractions, but she didn't have a mysterious sensuality and smart, sophisticated style like Delilah. Amanda was somewhat coarse and vulgar.

She recalled the first time they met. She never forgot the night she saw his eyes gleaming in the dark. But that was certainly not a gleam of desire. Her fingers curled into fist in her lap, clutching the fabric of her skirt unconsciously. She had more than her fair share of men's interests, but suddenly all seemed too little, all meant nothing.

A sudden awareness entered her head. There was another thing to consider. A much more important matter, and her mind was fully occupied with a totally unnecessary concern; comparing herself to Amanda Chapman.

Why on earth was she comparing herself with Amanda Chapman?

Her reaction to Amanda Chapman puzzled her. As long as she could remember, she had never felt insecure about her looks, even with a sister as striking as Del by her side. Another thought came upon her inevitably.

Why did it disturb and upset her, that Amanda probably had slept with him?

Her insane mind offered an undesirable answer. She skipped the silly thought, trying to concentrate on the more significant problem.

"One day when I walked past him, he asked me to be his muse. He said he wanted to paint me... And he really did paint me, at first..."

Did he do it with women lots of times? Or sometimes? Either way was terrible. Was it a trickery to have his way with a woman? Was it a game of seduction he had played more than once? She thought about each and every suspicious moment she had with him. Did he pretend to unconsider her yet flirting subtly with her at the same time? If it was a game indeed, it was a game well played.

"For God's sake, Betty! Amanda is a goddamn liar!"

Lady Byrne shouted loudly, made Ava and Mrs. Puck nearly jump from the seat.

"Do you forget when she came back from London, telling everybody she met the Prince Regent at the opera, and the prince asked her out for dinner?"

Lady Byrne shook her head in great disgust.

"That's a lot of damn nonsense! Only a blithering idiot will ever trust her."

Stung, Mrs. Puck shut her mouth and sank to the couch. Her anxiety reduced a bit. Lady Byrne was so convinced that everything was a lie. The lady definitely knew Amanda better than her, she wouldn't judge her harshly without a good reason. Perhaps it was just one of Amanda's made up stories.

"I daresay nobody knows he is very fond of painting."

Amanda knew one significant thing about him. How did she get to know such things? This was bad. Really bad. She wouldn't have an hour of sleep tonight.

Tomorrow was the last day. If he was playing the game, the final hours was the time to make the ultimate move. She was feeling anxious, doubtful and scared about what was about to happen, but she knew she was going to come anyway. Despite the uncertainty, somehow she was sure about one thing. He would not impose something unwelcome on her.