**Chapter 3: Determined (1)** “I’ve been caught,” Alessandra murmured to herself, her back pressed against the rough bark of a tree, hidden far from the prying eyes of Kate and the Duke. A shiver of apprehension ran through her. She was all too aware of Kate's affections for the Duke and the likelihood that she would come seeking him. Alessandra’s heart raced as she prayed fervently that Kate hadn’t overheard a word of their conversation. Kate, with her malicious tendencies, could easily twist the truth about the contract—news that would spread like wildfire among her friends. “Please, let that not be the case,” Alessandra whispered desperately. She regretted not being able to linger and eavesdrop on the conversation between Kate and the Duke. The tension in her chest tightened, with the constant worry that Edgar might reveal her clandestine meeting at any moment. The whispers the servants shared on the staircase about Edgar painted him as a ruthless man, devoid of a sense of humor, someone who had no qualms about humiliating others. He wouldn’t have invited her to his home unless he was serious. Alessandra clung to that thought, hoping against hope that her instincts were correct. With a deep breath, she steeled herself and turned her back on the chaos of thoughts swirling in her mind. Tomorrow could handle her worries; for now, her stomach churned with hunger that demanded attention. She cast a wary glance back—no sign of pursuit. The promise of food propelled her forward. As she approached the kitchen’s rear entrance, Alessandra’s heart raced with anticipation. The door swung open, revealing a hub of frantic activity. Servers hustled and bustled, handling platters overflowing with lavish dishes intended for the guests. The kitchen was a whirlwind compared to the somber atmosphere of her father’s hall. “Mario!” she cut through the din, calling for the cook as she deftly navigated through the chaos. Lost in their culinary whirlwind, none of the kitchen staff noticed her arrival. For once, Alessandra was grateful for their distraction. “That’s a bit lackluster, wouldn’t you say? Alessandra!” Mario, one of the three cooks, spotted her and quickly shooed away a colleague. “Cover for me. Just a moment.” “Come with me,” he urged, grabbing her hand, guiding her through a door leading outside, away from prying eyes. The Baron’s wife had made it a point to oversee the kitchen periodically, and he couldn’t afford a family member to see her out here. “I came because no one brought food to my room,” she explained, though a part of her knew she was walking a precarious line. Mario shut the door behind them, the outside air cool against their skin. “It’s that witch’s doing. Just last month, they laid off half the staff! Now, look at this party. We’re drowning in work, and there’s barely enough of us to handle it all. What kind of madness is this?” “Duke Collins is in search of a bride—haven’t you heard?” Alessandra replied, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Mario snorted, disbelief etching his features. “So that’s the reason! Did they throw a whole grand affair for Kate to flaunt herself? I can only imagine she’s buzzing around him like a relentless fly.” “I had a conversation with him,” Alessandra said quietly, a hint of defiance in her voice. “The Duke? About what?” Unable to mask his skepticism, Mario’s brow furrowed. He had heard enough to know the man's dark reputation. “There are too many troubling tales about him.” “There are countless tales about me and my mask. Do you believe those?” Alessandra’s challenge hung between them, knowing well the truth of her peculiar situation. She couldn’t judge others for their stories when her own were far too exaggerated. Mario fell silent, her words festering in his mind. He had never seen her uncovered, but he harbored doubts that her very presence could embroil anyone in doom. “Of course not,” he finally replied. “Then I plan to give the Duke a fair chance. What I shared with him must remain secret, but I am hopeful,” Alessandra confessed, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. “Does this concern your escape plan? I trust the Duke can help you flee this place. It’s unfortunate you can’t go alone, not with the young girls vanishing,” Mario said, joining her against the weathered wall. “I pray they find the culprit and that those poor souls are still alive,” she replied, her words laced with genuine concern. “I overheard your father discussing something about it, while I was delivering his coffee. I was hired as a cook but now have to pick up maid duties since so many were let go. They should be compensating me for double the work!” he exclaimed, a stone skidding across the ground as he kicked it away in frustration. Alessandra’s heart ached. “When I leave, you should come with me. You’ve always treated me kindly, and I would love to repay that.” "That's generous of you, but I owe the Baron for the money I borrowed. I can't leave until my debts are settled, and that will take another year. But I promise, once I’m free, I’ll seek you out. You’re the only Barrett I can tolerate. The rest…" he trailed off, shaking his head in dismay. “I can’t fathom why my father turned out this way. Mario, I need a favor—two favors, actually. I’m not close with the coachman, but you are. Can you speak to him about helping me get away tomorrow, without my family knowing? He might flee before I can approach him if he catches a glimpse of me,” she urged earnestly. Mario was the sole person she could confide in; he didn’t buy into the terrifying rumors that followed her. “That’s easy enough to arrange. I take it your plan involves the Duke? Just be careful, Alessandra. Even if you choose to overlook the stories, there are matters to consider, secrets to uncover,” he cautioned, unease swimming in his gut regarding Edgar. “I will heed your advice and remain cautious. I always carry my trusty knife,” she declared, producing a small blade from her dress pocket—Mario's gift during a moment of peril. “If he dares to threaten me, I’ll be ready!” Mario regarded her with skepticism, his expression almost comical. “Remember, that’s a knife, not a sword. Now, what’s the second favor?” “Mario!” a voice called from inside the kitchen, slicing through their exchange. “Right—a semblance of food, please,” Alessandra replied with an innocent smile, her heart racing. “Hold tight. I need to fetch it before I’m rendered to ashes for being away so long,” he said, rising swiftly, brushing dirt from his pants before vanishing back into the chaotic kitchen. Waiting for Mario’s return, Alessandra drummed her fingers to the hypnotic rhythm of the distant music filtering through the walls—her father’s favorite tune, one that heralded celebration at each gathering. With her eyes closed, she allowed herself to daydream of twirling in a grand ballroom, of dancing amidst the laughter and chatter, of indulging in luscious feasts. If only the mask didn’t tether her to a darkness that shadowed her every move, if only she could share those moments without eliciting fear in others. Moments stretched into eternity, but finally, Mario returned, a plate bursting with a variety of delectable dishes and a jug brimming with a fragrant drink. “I’ve brought you a little of everything,” he announced, pulling her from her reverie. Opening her eyes, Alessandra faced the reality that her evening would be spent in the quiet company of a newfound kitten, dining in solitude while the music played on, a haunting reminder of the life she wished to reclaim.