After the fabulous lunch, the Duke and I walk back to our quarters in silence.
I can sense his stares, from time to time, but I don't turn even once. This time, I am the one ignoring him.
The Duke opens his mouth to say something, but he changes his mind for the umpteenth time.
«How long will you avoid looking at me?» he asks, in the end.
«I'm not avoiding you,» I reply, and I turn to him to prove my words. I look into his eyes with a cold, unemotional expression, and I don't waver until he moves his gaze away.
«I wish I could explain,» he whispers, maybe not to me. He's staring at the distance, lost in his own thoughts. His desperate expression is flawlessly in place, showing me a gentle aspect I don't believe is genuine.
«Why would you?» I utter, annoyed by his behaviour. I am the victim here, but he is whining and complaining about my heartlessness.
