Chapter 10: Games of the Heart
The morning after their heated confrontation, Anastasia expected the Duke to continue treating her with the same cold indifference, or worse, to completely shut her out after her reckless confession about meeting the hooded man. She prepared herself for a continuation of his icy dismissal, the tension between them now an undeniable presence in the house. But to her surprise, the Duke's behavior shifted in a way she hadn't anticipated.
Instead of the cold distance she had grown accustomed to, he started acting… different. He was warmer, more attentive, and far gentler than he had ever been before.
It began subtly at first. When she passed him in the hall the next day, instead of his usual disinterested nod, he paused to greet her with a soft, almost tender smile.
"Good morning, Anastasia," he said, his voice lacking the harsh edge it usually carried. His eyes lingered on her longer than they should have, sending an inexplicable warmth through her chest.
"Good morning, Your Grace," she replied, keeping her tone formal. She couldn't forget the previous night or the anger that had darkened his eyes when she mentioned the hooded man. Yet here he was, acting as if nothing had happened, as if the storm of fury had never existed.
Later, at dinner, she found herself seated at the far end of the table as usual, but instead of ignoring her presence as he often did, the Duke spoke to her directly. He asked about her day, inquired about her health, and even complimented the way she had handled some recent household tasks. His tone was warm, even playful at times.
"You've been doing excellent work with the staff," he remarked, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her from across the table. "I may have to promote you."
Anastasia blinked, unsure how to respond. "Thank you, Your Grace," she said, her voice cautious. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
The change in his demeanor was not unwelcome, but it was confusing. Hadn't he been furious with her just a day ago? Why was he suddenly acting so… affectionate? A part of her wanted to believe this warmth was genuine, that the Duke was finally letting down his guard with her. But another part, the part that had been on edge since her arrival, couldn't help but suspect that this was all a ruse.
He's trying to make me forget, she thought. He's trying to distract me from the truth.
The idea gnawed at her, but despite her suspicions, she found herself drawn in by his charm. The Duke had always been handsome, but there was something about the way he smiled at her now, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, that made it difficult to keep her guard up. For the first time, he seemed… approachable.
As the days passed, the Duke continued his new, warmer behavior. He would seek her out in the gardens, asking her to walk with him among the roses. He would linger after meals, engaging her in conversations that felt far too intimate for their usual dynamic. He complimented her more frequently, not just on her work but on her appearance, her wit, her demeanor. Every glance, every word, seemed carefully chosen to disarm her, to make her forget the distance that had once defined their relationship.
And for a while, it worked. Anastasia found herself drawn to him in ways she hadn't expected. She enjoyed the time they spent together, the way he made her feel seen and important. She caught herself smiling more, feeling lighter in his presence, even as the voice in the back of her mind warned her not to trust him.
One afternoon, while they were walking together in the garden, the Duke paused beside a bench, gesturing for her to sit with him. The sky was clear, the air crisp, and for a moment, everything felt strangely peaceful.
"Anastasia," he began, his voice unusually soft. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said the other night."
Her heart skipped a beat. Had he finally decided to give her the answers she had been seeking?
"I know you're searching for the truth about your past," he continued, his eyes meeting hers with a look she couldn't quite decipher. "But sometimes, the truth can be… painful."
Her breath caught in her throat. "What do you mean?"
The Duke hesitated, his expression conflicted. "I care about you, Anastasia. And because I care, I don't want to see you hurt. Some things are best left in the past."
Her heart sank. There it was again—his refusal to tell her what she needed to know. Despite the warmth in his voice, the affection in his gaze, he was still hiding something from her. He was still trying to control the narrative, to keep her in the dark.
"I can handle the truth," she said, her voice firm. "Whatever it is, I deserve to know."
The Duke's jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might lose his temper again. But instead, he sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle but firm.
"Anastasia," he said quietly, "trust me when I say that some things are better left unknown."
She pulled away from him, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why won't you just tell me?" she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended. "What are you so afraid of?"
The Duke's eyes flashed with something she couldn't quite place—anger, perhaps, or regret. But before he could respond, a distant voice called his name from the house.
"Your Grace!"
Both of them turned to see one of the servants running toward them, out of breath. "There's a visitor, Your Grace," the servant panted. "A Lady Celeste has arrived. She's waiting in the drawing room."
Anastasia frowned, glancing at the Duke. "Who is Lady Celeste?"
The Duke's expression shifted, and for the first time since his change in behavior, his warmth seemed to evaporate. "Lady Celeste is my fiancée," he said, his tone suddenly distant.
Anastasia felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under her. Fiancée? How could she have not known? He had never mentioned anyone before, least of all a woman he was supposed to marry.
She stared at him, her mind reeling. "I—You didn't tell me you were engaged," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.
The Duke's gaze hardened. "There was no need for you to know," he replied, his tone cold. "It's none of your concern."
Before she could respond, he turned and strode back toward the house, leaving her standing in the garden, her heart pounding in her chest.
Lady Celeste's arrival changed everything.
From the moment she stepped into the estate, it was clear that she was not just any visitor. She was beautiful, with flowing dark hair and a haughty grace that made it obvious she was accustomed to being treated like royalty. She moved through the house as though she owned it, her presence commanding attention from everyone she passed.
And the Duke—he was different around her, too.
Gone was the warmth he had shown Anastasia in recent days. Gone were the soft smiles, the gentle touches, the intimate conversations. Instead, he became cold and distant once more, his attention entirely focused on Lady Celeste.
Anastasia watched in growing dismay as the Duke doted on his fiancée, escorting her through the estate, whispering words in her ear that made her laugh softly, her hand resting possessively on his arm. It was as though Anastasia had been completely forgotten, erased from his mind as soon as Lady Celeste had appeared.
She couldn't deny the painful sting of jealousy that welled up inside her, even though she knew she had no right to feel it. The Duke had never promised her anything. He had never made any commitments, never expressed any romantic intentions. And yet, the way he had treated her, the way he had seemed to care for her—it had all felt so real. Had it all been a lie?
Every time she caught a glimpse of the Duke and Lady Celeste together, her heart twisted painfully in her chest. She couldn't help but wonder if his recent affection toward her had been nothing more than a trick, a way to distract her from the truth she sought. Had he been playing her all along?
The thought gnawed at her, and as the days passed, her feelings of confusion and betrayal only grew stronger. She tried to bury herself in her work, to focus on her duties and ignore the way the Duke now looked through her as if she didn't exist. But it was impossible to escape the hurt, the growing ache in her heart.
One evening, after a particularly long day of avoiding both the Duke and Lady Celeste, Anastasia retreated to her small room, hoping to find some solace in the solitude. But just as she was settling in, there was a soft knock at her door.
She opened it to find Dana standing there, her expression sympathetic. "Are you all right?" Dana asked gently. "You've been so quiet lately."
Anastasia forced a smile. "I'm fine," she lied. "Just… tired."
Dana frowned, clearly not convinced, but she didn't press the matter. Instead, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, her gaze flickering with concern. "I've noticed the way the Duke's been acting," she said after a moment. "Since Lady Celeste arrived."
Anastasia's heart clenched, but she nodded, refusing to let her emotions show. "It's nothing," she said quickly. "He's just focused on his fiancée."
A big lie