With his hands now free, Derek sat up on the bed, his movements stiff with anger. He glared at the silk sash still knotted around his ankles and began to untie it himself, his fingers pulling roughly at the knots. The room was silent.
Marissa sat calmly on a chair near the bed, her hands folded in her lap, watching him. Her composure was a stark contrast to his simmering rage, a quiet stillness that seemed to unnerve him even more.
"I'm curious, Your Grace," she said, her voice breaking the silence. It was soft, but held a sharp, inquisitive edge. "Why are you here? In my chambers? Why did you come? Aren't you supposed to be with your cherished mistress?"
The questions were like a series of deft jabs, each one aimed at his pride. He finally ripped the last knot free and tossed the sash onto the floor. He looked up, his dark eyes boring into hers.
"I came to thank you," he said, his voice a low growl. "Senna is alive. The royal physician said the antidote worked perfectly. My intention was to express my gratitude for you saving her life." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, slowly advancing towards her. Their faces were inches apart. "And you," he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "repaid that kindness with betrayal. You drugged me. You tied me up like an animal."
Marissa did not lean back. She did not flinch. Instead, a small, genuine laugh escaped her lips. "Then we are even," she said simply.
She stood up from the chair, creating a little space between them, and performed a graceful curtsy. "Your Grace, you may leave."
Derek stared at her, utterly baffled by her response. "Even?" he repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. "How are we even? I was humiliated! Gagged and bound in my own bed, used as a prop in your little power play with the servants. You humiliated me in front of my everyone including the guards!"
"After your grand performance in the courtyard earlier today, I thought you had no shame," Marissa replied coolly, her expression perfectly serene.
"You…" he began, so enraged he was momentarily speechless. He took a step forward, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Marissa just smiled, a calm, knowing smile that seemed to infuriate him even more than her words.
Derek stared at her for a long moment, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Then, a harsh, humorless chuckle was torn from his throat. "This woman," he said, speaking more to himself than to her. "You are truly sharp-tongued." He found himself rooted to the spot, a strange mix of fury and fascination swirling within him. He should have been shouting, threatening, throwing her out of the room. Yet he was still here, listening to her insults. It was… intriguing.
"And I assure you that I am also naturally less docile than Miss Senna," Marissa replied smoothly, her words a direct hit on his known preference for gentle, compliant women.
She curtsied again, a clear gesture of dismissal. "Your Grace, it has been a long day. Please leave. I wish you a good night's rest."
His eyes narrowed. "Isn't this my room, too?" he countered, reasserting his claim. "I can come in here as I want. The Grand Duchess's chambers are connected to the Duke's. This is also my wing of the estate."
Marissa feigned a look of wide-eyed shock, her hand flying to her chest in a gasp. The performance was so over-the-top it was a clear mockery. She sat back down on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. "Are you planning to spend the night here?" she asked, her voice a mixture of feigned innocence and challenge.
That was the last straw. He closed the distance between them in a single stride. His hand came up, not to strike her, but to gently cup the side of her neck, his thumb stroking the soft, vulnerable skin just below her ear. He leaned in close, his face so near she could feel the heat of his breath, see the storm in his dark eyes.
"Shouldn't I sleep here?" he said, his voice a low, husky whisper designed to intimidate, to seduce, to conquer.
Marissa's heart was pounding, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. She did not lean in, nor did she pull away. She simply turned her head to the side, breaking his intense gaze, a silent and undeniable rejection of his advance.
Derek watched her profile for a moment, the clean line of her jaw, the stubborn set of her mouth. His gambit had failed.
Physical intimidation had no effect on her. He chuckled again, a low, frustrated sound, and pulled his hand away as if her skin had burned him.
"But a shrew like you holds no interest for me," he said, his voice laced with a scorn that sounded forced and hollow.
He stood up straight, his anger returning in full force. He turned, snatched his formal coat from the chair where it had been discarded, and stalked towards the door. He was leaving, defeated in a battle he hadn't even known he was fighting.
Just as his hand touched the doorknob, Marissa's voice stopped him. Her tone was different now. The mockery was gone, replaced by a cool seriousness.
"Your Grace."
He paused, his back still to her.
"The vial saves a life, that is true," she said quietly. "But Miss Senna's poison is suspicious. A dancer should not have enemies powerful enough to acquire a poison so rare it requires an equally rare antidote. You should investigate who is truly behind it."
Derek stood frozen for a long moment, the silence stretching between them. Without turning around, he yanked the door open and left, slamming it shut behind him.
The moment the door clicked shut, the confident, sharp-tongued Duchess vanished. Marissa's expression became serious, her eyes dark with thought. The events of the night replayed in her mind.
She rose from the bed and walked to the balcony doors. She tried the handles again. They were solid, unmoving. She ran her fingers along the edge of the frame and found it: a small, thin piece of metal wedged tightly into the locking mechanism from the outside, jamming it completely.
Her face hardened. The intruder, the conveniently timed arrival of Lorena and Ashlyn, and now this. It was all connected.
"So this time," she whispered to the empty, silent room, "Miss Lorena plotted against me, and my dear sister helped her." A cold, dangerous light entered her eyes.
"Interesting."