As she spoke, she noticed the way his gaze sharpened, taking in her flushed cheeks and the slight tremor in her hands. “That is it? That’s what makes you tick? Surely you can find more suitable pursuits than studying plants and animals,” he spoke, his tone shifting to one of curiosity, a hint of challenge lurking beneath.
Cecilia’s heart raced, her instinct to defend her passion rising to the surface. “I refuse to dismiss the importance of understanding nature. I t deserves attention.”
Alistair’s expression filled with confusion, and he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, making her pulse quicken. “But why focus on something so… unconventional? Most ladies wouldn’t bother with such trivialities.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she faltered under the weight of his gaze. “You don’t know me, Your Grace. You don’t know what I’m capable of with my talents.”
His eyes seemed to study her intently, and she felt all so vulnerable in the moment. “And what is it that you hope to achieve? Recognition? Fame?” His voice was low, almost teasing, and it sent a shiver down her spine.
Cecilia clenched her fists, feeling the heat of her determination mingling with an unwelcome attraction. “It’s not about recognition. It’s about passion and discovery. I want to learn something meaningful.”
As she spoke, she noticed the way his gaze shifted, taking in her flushed cheeks and the slight rise and fall of her chest. She was panting a bit, but not from exertion. He was close now, only about three feet away.
“It would be better to consider looking for a husband instead of wasting your energy on this,” he shrugged, his tone shifting to one of seriousness at last.
Cecilia scoffed. “I shall find a husband when the time is right. For now, I will not settle for anything less than the man of my dreams, someone who will accept me and my passions.”
Alistair’s expression hardened for a moment, before his lax gaze returned. “You’re dreaming if you think such a man exists. Most ladies don’t even entertain such fantasies. You are to be happy with whatever you get.”
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and she fought the urge to step back. “You wish for a fairy tale, Miss Everton.” His voice was low, almost mocking. “Do you really believe that your… research is worth more than a proper education in the arts and social graces?”
“I believe that understanding the world around us is of utmost importance,” she retorted, her voice steady despite the nerves in her stomach. “You might find that women can have interests beyond embroidery and music.”
Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Ah, but those pursuits are what society values. Your passion for plants and animals is—dare I say—unconventional.”
“And what do you know of unconventional? You’re a duke, Your Grace. Your world is filled with expectations and norms. Perhaps you haven’t met enough women who would be honest enough to challenge those standards.”
He pushed himself forward till he was staring right down at her, the intensity of his gaze making her pulse quicken. “Perhaps you underestimate the women I’ve encountered. They are not all as… spirited as you.”
“Spirited? Is that what you call it? I call it having a mind of my own.” In the cold, she could feel the heat radiating from his body once again, making it difficult to think clearly.
“Yet you seem so hesitant to defend your passion,” he countered, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he seemed to observe her face, taking in her expression.
“You don’t understand what it’s like to be dismissed for your interests. It is a tiring loop I have grown weary of engaging in.”
Alistair’s expression shifted, a flicker of something softer in his eyes, but she couldn’t linger on that. “You’re much too young to understand the reality of life, perhaps,” he said, his tone more serious. “Still, you are not getting any younger, you shall be a spinster soon.”
Cecilia growled at him, feeling sweaty despite the cold, her frustration boiling over.
Why does he always get so close?!
She felt the panic rising within her, the fear that she might say something truly inappropriate, considering her bothered state. “I think I’ve said enough. I’ll take my leave now.”
Before he could respond, she turned sharply, storming away from him. “You do not know everything as you believe you do, Your Grace!” she called over her shoulder, her heart pounding as she fled the grounds, desperate to escape the overwhelming heat of him.
CHAPTER 11
“Today’s hunt will be one for the books, I assure you!” Tristan exclaimed, his enthusiasm cutting through the brisk winter air as he gestured animatedly. “A gentle summer and a light snowfall mean plentiful game and fewer hiding places. And no where to hide equals an easier catch for us!”
Alistair offered a half-hearted smile, his gaze drifting to the other man accompanying them, Nathaniel, who stood a few paces away, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Despite Tristan’s cheerful banter, Alistair could sense the heaviness that hung in the air, as if winter itself had settled around them, stifling any warmth.
“Isn’t that right, brother?” Tristan pressed, turning to his younger brother and nudging him playfully. “You wouldn’t want to miss out on a chance to show off your marksmanship, would you?”
“I suppose not,” Nathaniel replied, his voice steady but lacking the usual spark. He glanced back at Alistair, who slightly lifted a brow in question. “Though I doubt either of us would be able to match your prowess, Tristan.”
“Bah! You’re just being modest,” Tristan laughed, but his eyes darted back to Alistair, seeming to sense the awkwardness that enveloped them. “What do you think, men? Are we ready for the hunt?”
Nathaniel’s following response was delayed, as if he were weighing his words carefully. “I suppose it’s better than sitting indoors all day,” he said finally, his tone flat.
