When she returned to her room, she saw a blue dress lying on her bed. She walked towards it and picked it up. It was a simple dress, nothing fancy but it was better than the ugly grey dress and those see- through nightgowns she had been given. Next to it was a matching ribbon for her hair.
A small improvement, I guess.
After getting ready, Alina stood before the mirror in her room and stared at her reflection.
The blue colour brought life back to her cheeks.
She brushed her hair and tied it back with the ribbon, letting it fall into beautiful waves down her back.
Feeling satisfied with her appearance, she stepped out and walked towards the great hall, once again following a maid.
The doors were open, flanked by servants in black who, as usual, didn't acknowledge her as she passed.
The hall was huge. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, their candles already lit despite the morning light streaming through the windows.
The table stretched from one end of the hall to the other, covered in white linen and filled with more food than Alina had seen in years.
At least fifty people sat along the table in order of importance, dressed in so much expensive and beautiful clothes that her blue dress suddenly felt like a rag.
Each of them turned to look at her when she walked in.
"That's her?" A whisper came from her left.
"What is she wearing?" A woman said with disdain. "How embarrassing."
"Did she dress herself?"
"I heard she was plain, but…"
Alina walked with her chin up, but her stomach was in knots. Her hands, hidden in the folds of her skirt, were shaking. Still, she walked into the room as if she belonged there.
Upon reaching the table, she stopped. She didn't know where to sit. The table was filled with people who weren't even looking at her now.
Do I even have a seat?
She stood there, surrounded by whispers. In that moment, she felt like a four year old again, standing at her mother's funeral, unsure of where to go or what to do.
Then Austin, seated at the head of the table, stood up. He had been there all along, watching. She hadn't seen him. But now he was on his feet with everyone watching him as he walked towards her.
He moved like he owned that place, which in fact, he did and stopped in front of her. His hand came up and slid on her back as if it belonged there.
Alina was so shocked that she forgot to breathe. He leaned down, bringing his mouth close to her ear.
"There is a seat at mid-table. Walk."
His hand guided her forward, past the staring faces and the whispering mouths.
"Your hand is on my back," She muttered, barely moving her lips.
"People are watching."
"People can watch my back without your hand on it."
He didn't reply. She was about to turn and look at him when he stopped. They had reached mid-table, then he pulled out a chair for her.
She looked at him, then at the chair, unable to believe her eyes.
He just stood there with his hand still on her back, until she sat. To everyone else, it looked very intimate. But to Alina, it felt like a performance she wasn't ready for.
Then, without another word or a glance, he returned to his seat.
The blonde woman from the gardens sat beside him. She was looking at her with a warm smile. Alina looked back at her for a moment, then looked away.
The food was amazing. The bread was warm, fresh from the oven. The eggs were delicious, and the meat was cooked perfectly. Alina ate slowly, savouring every bite without worrying about the hundreds of eyes watching her.
For a few minutes, everything was fine. Then the man sitting beside her leaned closer.
He was older, perhaps fifty.
"The duke's bed warmer has graced us," He whispered. "Tell me, is the bed as impressive as they say?"
Alina set down her fork, picked up her wine glass, took a sip and put it down.
"The bed is extraordinary," She replied with a smile. "Egyptian cotton, I think." She paused. "The man in it, however, falls asleep within a minute, which I find personally insulting."
Three people choked on their breakfast.
The man, Lord Crawley, stared at her with his mouth open, unsure whether to laugh or feel embarrassed.
Alina noticed how Austin's knife paused for a second before he resumed eating, as if he hadn't heard a word. She smiled on her small victory.
Soon, the breakfast ended, and the crowd moved from the table to the larger hall, mingling and murmuring.
Alina stood alone. No one spoke to her. The courtiers swirled around her like water around a stone, keeping their distance to make her feel isolated in the middle of a crowded room.
Then suddenly, a hand slid to her waist. She startled and turned. It was Austin again.
"Walk," He murmured.
He led her towards a group of older men near the windows. They stopped their conversation when they noticed the duke approaching them with his hand resting on the waist of his bed warmer.
"Lord Ashmont. Lord Percival," Austin said. "This is Alina Ashworth."
They bowed to her as if she were someone important.
"Miss Ashworth," Lord Ashmont said warmly. "A pleasure. Are you enjoying your stay at Ravenmoor?"
"Well…the experience has been... very different," Alina replied.
What else could she say?
I've been fed leftovers and ignored by everyone except your duke, who puts his hand on my waist in public and won't look at me in private?
Ashmont laughed. They then talked about normal things like the weather, the food, the library, and so on. Alina was a natural charmer, who impressed them both with her wit.
Throughout the conversation, Austin's hand stayed on her waist. She could feel his fingers through the fabric of her dress. She noticed how he stood slightly behind her like a guard who also happened to be her owner.
After ten minutes, she'd had enough. She leaned back slightly, tilting her head toward his ear.
"You won't look at me in your bed," She murmured, "but your hand has been on my waist for ten minutes. Which is the lie, Your Grace? The private, or the public?"
His hand tightened on her waist as he turned his head. For a brief moment, they were close enough to kiss.
"Both," He replied.
Before Alina could understand what he meant, the blonde appeared at his elbow.
"Austin, you need to come with me."
He left with her without looking back.
Alina stayed where she was, listening to the older men continue their conversation, but her mind was processing Austin's words.
Both were lies? The private distance and the public possession were both performances? But for what and why?