**Chapter 5: Determined** The soft voice of Kate shattered the tranquil morning air, stirring Alessandra from her slumber. “My lady, breakfast is here.” Groaning, Alessandra rolled onto her side, squinting at the slivers of light peeking through her curtains. “How on earth is it already morning? I was just enjoying my dinner,” she muttered, stretching her limbs languidly, the remnants of her dreams still clinging to her like a whisper. Staring up at the ornate ceiling that seemed to mock her peacefulness, Alessandra felt a jolt of realization—as if the very fibers of her being had sparked to life. Today was not just another day; it held the potential to alter the trajectory of her existence entirely. “My lady?” The urgency in Kate’s voice was palpable. It dawned on her that the usual servant would have left the breakfast outside her door and retreated swiftly, fearing her wrath, yet Kate lingered as if compelled by an invisible force. The curiosity gnawing at her must have been torturous throughout the night. ..... Tempted to draw out the moment, to relish in Kate’s mounting frustration, Alessandra sensed the gravity of the day ahead. Today, she needed to start playing her role, to begin the delicate dance of subterfuge. “I’m coming,” she called, her voice steady as she prepared to face the world outside her sanctuary. With a flick of her wrist, she gathered the small sleeping kitten nestled beside her, gently placing it in the recesses of her closet to shield it from the day’s light. With a final glance back, she reached for the mask she had donned the night before, feeling its contours as it settled into place with a certain resonance of purpose. “M-My lady?” Kate’s stutter confirmed the tension in the air. ‘Less obvious,’ Alessandra mentally instructed herself upon hearing the maid’s nervousness. With the mask firmly secured, she glided to the door, unlocking it with a resolve she hoped would mask her own rattled heart. “Y-Your breakfast,” the maid murmured, eyes cast downward, betraying her unease. Alessandra’s gaze followed the maid’s gesture to the food, which lay unceremoniously on the ground, not in her hands as one might expect. “Thank you,” she said as she stooped to retrieve the tray, but before her fingers could graze the cool surface, a shoe unexpectedly pinned her left hand down. “Good morning, sister,” Kate’s voice wafted into the air, triumphant and smug, just as Alessandra had anticipated. The pressure from Kate’s shoe bore down uncomfortably, sending a sharp throb through Alessandra’s knuckles. “Good morning, Kate,” she replied through gritted teeth, forcing herself to maintain her composure. “Run along,” Kate ordered the maid, irritation lacing her tone as she glared at the closed door of Alessandra's room. The wait had vexed her beyond reason, a heavy impatience hanging in the atmosphere like a storm cloud ready to burst. “Did you have fun last night, Alessandra?” “Yes,” Alessandra replied, her voice laced with an indifference that she hoped would mask her anxiety. The reaction was immediate; Kate’s eyes widened with fury. “Yes?” she echoed incredulously. “Just because you bumped into the Duke, you think it was fun?” “N-Not that,” Alessandra stammered, the sting of Kate's shoe still fresh on her hand. “I had fun in my room. The music from the party reached me.” “Is that so? Then tell me,” Kate pressed, her voice a dangerous whisper, “what did you discuss with the Duke last night?” She needed reassurance, a fragile thread of certainty amidst her swirling fears of what their encounter might imply. “Honestly, I didn’t even notice he was there,” Alessandra rushed to explain. “I was just going to collect my dinner when he called out to me. I forgot to acknowledge someone as esteemed as the Duke, and he scolded me, and then you showed up. That’s all.” Yet, Kate's shoe bore down harder, a blatant challenge to the truth of Alessandra’s words. “What else?” “He mentioned marriage, spoke of you as a candidate, and nothing more. I swear,” Alessandra cried out, desperation creeping into her voice as the pain edged dangerously close to unbearable. “Hmm,” Kate mused, lifting her foot slightly but not wholly relinquishing her grip. That made some sense, but why had the Duke been so aloof upon their return to the ball? “Of course he would speak about me. Who wouldn’t want to discuss such a freak?” Alessandra rolled her eyes, her profile hidden from view by her unyielding position. ‘That doesn’t make sense; he still spoke to me,’ she thought fiercely, maintaining her silence. “Still,” Kate continued, venom pooling in her voice, “it infuriates me that you trivialized your presence before the Duke. What if he begins to believe he is cursed and takes his frustration out on us? What then? Do you believe you’ll be safe? That father will protect you?” The shoe pressed down once more, sharp and unyielding. “N-No,” Alessandra whimpered, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Then stay in your room all—” Suddenly, a voice boomed in the hallway, cutting through the tension with all the force of a gale. “Kate!” Desmond exclaimed, eyes wide as he spotted the confrontation. “Stop it this instant.” “But father, she...” Kate's protests fell flat as reality sunk in, realizing her father had witnessed the entire episode. “The Duke saw her last night, and they spoke.” Desmond’s gaze shifted to Alessandra, surprise clouding his features. The notion that his daughter had been seen by the Duke stirred a disquieting mix of concern and curiosity within him. What had they talked about? Why hadn’t the Duke mentioned anything at breakfast? “I will handle this. You, leave.” With a drama reminiscent of a petulant child, Kate stomped her feet as she departed, clearly irked that the maid’s tardiness had given her father a chance to intervene. “So annoying,” she muttered, slinking away from the door. Alessandra’s hand trembled as she gathered the breakfast tray, relief flooding through her even as sharp pangs ignited in her palm. “Alessandra, sweetheart,” her father approached cautiously, concern etched into his features as he reached for her. “Can you tell me what transpired between you and the Duke? Why were you out of your room? You know there was a party.” “I... no food came last night, and I was hungry,” Alessandra explained, her voice small. “The garden is off-limits, so I thought I could slip out just for a moment. That’s all.” Desmond nodded, somewhat understanding but still troubled. After all, this was the Duke in question—a man whose reputation loomed large over their family. He had heard whispers, rumors surrounding Alessandra—inextricably linked to those misfortunes that seemed to hover around her. “What did you talk about?” She kept her gaze lowered, unable to meet the scrutiny in her father’s eyes. “He simply wished to confirm he could smoke in the garden and mentioned Kate as an option for marriage.” “Really?” Desmond’s eyes lit up, hope rekindled. Perhaps his daughter truly had an impact, and Kate’s prospects had not withered entirely. “It seems he isn’t wholly disinterested. This is positive news.” For Desmond, Edgar represented a chance to claw their way back from the precipice of financial ruin. The prospect of Kate securing a wealthy husband offered the glimmer of salvation they desperately needed. “Yet,” he cautioned, a father’s concern rising to the surface, “you should not have ventured out. What if I had changed my mind and decided to bring some guests outside?” ‘So I should have starved?’ Alessandra fumed inwardly but quelled her thoughts. Instead, she offered a soft, “I’m sorry, father.” “Fine, fine. There’s no use berating you over it.” His expression softened. “Whoever was responsible for your breakfast deserves the blame. I apologize for Kate’s behavior; she is merely looking out for us. Edgar, after all, could easily ruin us.” Unexpectedly, a thought struck him. “You must be bored cooped up in your room. Is there something you would like to do? Name anything, and I shall fetch it for you.” Alessandra brightened, albeit only in her heart, keeping her head bowed. “Since you asked, I’ve run out of things to paint. I would love to ride in the carriage around town, just to see new sights. I promise I won’t get out.” Desmond hesitated, aware that Katrina would likely disapprove of such a notion. Still, he recognized that confinement would only spur Alessandra’s desire for escape, so perhaps granting her a sliver of freedom might ease her spirit. “Promise me you won’t leave the carriage.” “I promise,” she beamed inwardly, unable to suppress a grin of relief, though still too timid to let it truly blossom on her face. With the dawn of a day thick with unspoken possibilities, Alessandra felt the stirrings of hope intertwining with the weight of her reality, balancing precariously in the space between freedom and obligation.