It was Wednesday morning, three days after Aiden had informed her of his engagement.
“Are you awake?”
At the unexpected sound of a voice, Sveta slowly opened her eyes.
Her gaze fell upon the familiar plaster molding along the edge of the ceiling. Gradually, the blur in her vision cleared.
Sunlight poured harshly through the window.
She must have overslept again.
Bracing herself, she sat up and began to speak.
“…A banquet?”
“Tonight, you will attend a banquet.”
Aiden was sitting in the armchair beside her bed.
Judging by the stack of documents piled on his crossed legs, he had been there for some time.
“I was thinking of taking you with me to Lady Matwood’s birthday celebration.”
Without lifting his gaze from the documents, he quietly turned a page.
Light reflected off the parchment, casting a pale glow over his calm, composed features.
As if drawn by long habit, Sveta’s gaze drifted to his neatly brushed-back golden locks.
She pressed her parted lips together, biting them lightly, before answering.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Why not?”
“How can you bring your mistress to your fiancée’s birthday banquet?”
His eyes shifted—just slightly—toward her.
“It is a marriage in name only.”
“Even so, Lady Matwood will not like it.”
“That is none of my concern.”
“……”
“For now, eat.”
Aiden gave the bell cord a light tug.
“Is my opinion none of your concern as well? I clearly said I don’t want to go…”
“It would be better if you did. You would not want the future Duchess of Strilland to grow arrogant.”
“……”
‘Arrogant…’
How could he speak of his fiancée that way?
A chill ran down her spine at his coldness.
“Alyona Matwood will not be able to torment you as Lady Noma did.”
“……”
“I will grant her neither power nor influence.”
He stated his purpose plainly.
As it was a political marriage, hidden intentions were to be expected.
But to Sveta, it sounded like this.
‘He intends to use his mistress to crush the pride of the woman who is to become Duchess.’
He had never been a good man.
He would not make a good husband.
Nor would he be a good father.
He was incapable of being good at anything.
‘So I was right to decide to leave.’
Sveta remembered her determination.
She would no longer depend on anyone.
If she were to leave, she would do so independently.
But how?
She couldn’t even turn down a single banquet.
Hopelessness overwhelmed her.
At that moment, footsteps sounded beyond the door.
Knock, knock.
A servant entered, carefully carrying a silver tray.
“Bring it here.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The servant placed the meal on the bedside table and withdrew at the duke’s subtle signal.
Aiden lifted a spoon with effortless grace and offered it to her.
The clear soup shimmered against the silver spoon.
“Must I feed you myself again before you’ll eat?”
“…No.”
She lowered her gaze to the bowl.
Although she had no appetite, she forced herself to eat.
When he said he would ‘feed her himself’, he meant prying her mouth open and shoving food in. She was tired of that.
After observing her for a moment, Aiden returned his attention to the documents in front of him.
As she chewed a piece of soft bread, Sveta studied him quietly.
His long, calloused fingers tapped lightly against the parchment. He looked satisfied. His expression remained as impenetrable as ever, yet she could tell that something was different.
She had learned to detect the faintest traces of his emotions.
In that moment, amid her relentless anxiety, Sveta realized one thing with clarity. She would have to deceive this man.
It was foolish to hope that his interest would simply fade. The decision lay entirely with him, beyond her control.
There was only one thing she could do: reassure him and escape.
Having reached that conclusion, Sveta spoke carefully.
“…Then what about me?”
“What do you mean?”
His green eyes darkened slightly as they fixed on her, demanding explanation.
“Will you grant me no power or influence either?”
One corner of Aiden’s mouth lifted faintly.
“Haven’t you already acquired it?”
“I’m curious. What power and influence do I possess?”
A soft chuckle escaped him as he rose to his feet.
“Finish your meal and prepare yourself. I’ll send the head maid.”
He stood up straight, smoothed down his shirt, and slowly lowered the sleeves he had rolled up.
After picking up the leather gloves he had set aside, Aiden cast one last glance at her moving lips, before turning and leaving.
***
As soon as Aiden returned to his study, he resumed work by replying to urgent correspondence.
The swan-feather pen scratched steadily across the parchment.
Whenever he finished a letter, his aide collected and organized it. After repeating this process several times, the work finally came to an end.
“That will be all for today.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Dennis withdrew at once.
Tap. Tap.
Aiden opened a drawer and lightly struck the edge of the desk with his gloved hand.
His gaze settled on a crumpled envelope in the center of the drawer.
He carefully took the letter out of the worn envelope.
Though he had read the handwriting countless times, it still felt unfamiliar.
“I thought I’d give Lady Luce, the Baron’s daughter, a weapon to protect herself.”
The letter Hazel had handed him playfully on the day of departure contained something unbelievable.
“What kind of jest is this?”
“You thought it was a joke? That’s disappointing.”
“…Mother left this letter?”
“That’s right, Aiden. Our mother wrote it. She said to read it once we were grown.”
“……”
The handwriting of the mother he had only known through portraits was neat, yet it felt unfamiliar to him.
All Aiden knew about her was her name — Charlotte Lowell — and that she was from Teris.
She had long brown hair that flowed down her back.
Her green eyes were shadowed with melancholy.
A faint, sorrowful smile rested on her red lips.
That was all he had ever known of her.
She was his birth mother, who had taken her own life in despair.
It was only through the letter she left for Hazel on the day she died that Aiden finally learned why she had chosen death.
He learned something else, too.
His elder brother was illegitimate — a child conceived in secret between the Duchess and her guard.
‘Hazel Strilland, the brown-haired son.’
At last, the fragmented truths fell into place.
It explained why his father, Charles Strilland, had despised his eldest son so intensely.
It explained why Lady Noma had scorned Hazel.
Lady Noma had sent contraceptives and other suspicious medicines to Hazel’s mistresses and his wife, who was of lower birth.
Just as she had once given such medicine to Sveta.
“How laughable.”
It was truly absurd.
They had trembled at the thought of impure blood tainting their lineage.
And yet, what had become of their son?
Aiden lowered his gaze to his palm.
A speck of dust had settled on his smooth leather glove.
He frowned.
‘Come to think of it…’
It had been a while since he had continued his treatment with Ivan.
He had stopped around the time he started inviting Sveta to his bedchamber.
He no longer wanted to touch any other woman.
In fact, he no longer wanted to touch anyone.
This was true even of Alyona Matwood, who would soon become his wife.
To him, there was only one woman: Sveta.
During their last meeting, the Marquess of Matwood had tactfully broached the subject of heirs.
Aiden replied that he had no intention of considering succession.
He had never wanted children.
Then, faintly, he could hear Sveta’s gentle voice echoing in his ears.
“Don’t you want a child?”
“They would be beautiful. With green eyes like yours, Your Grace… and red lips…”
“And hair like spun gold, shining just like yours. A lovely little baby.”
It must have been on a humid day when she had asked him that.
“…My child.”
Aiden tried to imagine what a child resembling him might look like, but he could not conjure up an image.
Perhaps it was because he was still haunted by the memory of watching his sister die. Or maybe he had simply been born incapable of such tenderness.
The truth was that he did not want a child. But if he were ever to have one, it would be born of Sveta’s womb.
Therefore, the woman who would become his wife must never harm that child.
That was the conclusion he had come to.
This was precisely why he intended to bring his mistress to his fiancée’s birthday banquet.
He slid the letter back into its envelope and closed the drawer.
A short while later, there was a polite knock at the door.
It was Pailin.
“My lord, the lady is prepared.”
***
“How could you do this to me?”
Holding onto her father’s arm, Alyona staggered, seemingly overcome with dizziness.
It was transparent theatrics. She had probably twisted her ankle and was leaning her weight to one side.
Alyona Matwood always injured her ankles during such performances, as though she had no idea how precious an uninjured body was.
Aiden’s gaze turned cold as he looked at her.
His arm tightened around Sveta’s slender waist, which trembled faintly beneath his touch.
At the sight, Alyona swayed again.
“How could this happen? At my birthday banquet—how could you bring such a vulgar woman here…!”
Her shrill voice tore through the air, attracting curious glances from all directions.
The visibly flustered Marquess of Matwood quickly signaled to the musicians.
Immediately, brighter music swelled to fill the hall.
Servants moved in orderly lines, carrying trays of light wines and delicate dishes.
The mingled accents of dignitaries from distant lands rose alongside the music, drifting upwards towards the vaulted ceiling.
Above them all, a magnificent chandelier adorned with precious gold ornaments bathed the vast hall in brilliant light.
Yet the darkness creeping in from beyond the windows seemed to settle only on the faces of the two women.
With her fine brows drawn tightly together, Alyona continued her tearful complaint.
“Your Grace, this is too much. How could you bring such a lowborn creature into this place?”
“Compose yourself. This is not the time.”
Caught in the middle, the Marquess wiped the sweat from his brow and patted his daughter’s trembling shoulders.
He whispered something to Alyona, but she stubbornly shook her head.
Finally, tears welled in her eyes, she turned around sharply, and stormed out.
“I beg your pardon on her behalf, Your Grace. Now that the engagement is approaching, my daughter has become rather sensitive. She has no mother to advise her, no sisters to guide her — only this inadequate father.”
Aiden, who had been looking at the Marquess icily, slowly parted his lips.
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bluemoon238
I really cannot say enough how glad I am that FL has been growing a spine and facing reality. So glad she is getting herself out. ML has earned enough resentment for multiple lifetimes by now. Trash needs tossing.