Seated across from one another, they lifted their teacups.
Sveta sat with her back to the river. The shimmering ripples upon the surface of the Brimiya River cast a radiant glow around her.
“…Do you truly drink this because it tastes good?”
After taking a sip, Aiden frowned.
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it bitter?”
“That’s why I drink it.”
It felt as though his tongue had gone numb; the taste was overwhelmingly dry. He quietly set the cup down.
“It seems even more bitter than the tea you usually drink.”
“I can’t tell the difference, Your Grace.”
It had already been a month and a week since he told her of the engagement.
Since then, the days had passed without particular incident.
Days like this—sharing tea together.
Every day, he made time to see her. And now, she would sometimes speak first. Aiden found himself pleased.
They slept separately. The bed remained a territory she had not yet permitted.
Because of that, on nights when sleep would not come, Aiden would sit by her bedside and talk with her.
At such times, Sveta would half-close her drowsy eyes and ask about his affairs.
“I heard the hunting festival will be held this year.”
“It will.”
“Is Levizan truly that vast, where the hunting festival takes place?”
“Levizan stretches along the entire northeastern border, so yes.”
“…Then please take me with you.”
He welcomed her interest. It pleased him.
And yet, from time to time, unease reared its head. Something scraped faintly at one corner of his heart.
Like a fingernail dragging across the surface of soft soap—dull, painless, but unsettling—it burrowed into him again.
Perhaps it was because his woman—Sveta—had changed.
For example—
“Finish it, Your Grace.”
“That will be difficult.”
“Shall I add some sugar?”
“…I would rather drink it as it is.”
The way she offered him tea.
The faint smile she wore.
Such gentle gestures left behind a discomfort that clung like dust no matter how he tried to brush it away.
Had she sensed his heavy mood?
Sveta spoke, her low voice pushing his stray thoughts far aside.
“I hope you come to like this tea, Your Grace.”
“…”
“Would that be too difficult?”
She was asking the obvious.
“…”
“That’s a shame.”
She smiled lightly as she insisted on her preference. It was unexpectedly charming. It felt as though she were measuring his affection—testing him to see whether he would do even this for her.
Instead of telling her that he would never grow fond of this dreadful tea, he asked another question.
“If I do come to like it, what changes?”
“Then we can drink tea together in Levizan.”
“I never said I would take you to the hunting festival.”
“…But you will, won’t you?”
She set down her cup, rested her elbow on her knee, and propped her chin in her hand. The soft black hair that fell beside her ears framed her cheeks.
She was beautiful.
Watching her, his lips parted on their own. It would no doubt look foolish. Aiden lifted his teacup to conceal the curve of his mouth.
“Autumn in Levizan is like winter in Renan. You dislike the cold. You should remain at the estate.”
“Then you can buy me warm clothes. We are at a dress shop, after all.”
“…”
“I’m not good at choosing. This time, please choose for me, Your Grace.”
She chattered on. He liked the sound of her voice.
Just as Aiden was about to respond, a gust of wind from the river swept in behind her.
The faint scent of her drifted into his nose—sweet, even as he drank bitter tea.
Without lowering his cup, he answered.
“…I will try. To come to like the tea.”
She smiled faintly again. Her full, peach-tinted lips curved beautifully.
Knock, knock.
With a careful knock, Rene entered, her face troubled.
“Your Grace, forgive the interruption. There is someone here to see you…”
Aiden turned his head slightly and looked past her.
The shop was in an uproar.
It was not difficult to guess who stood at the center of it.
His gaze traveled up from the voluminous skirt of an ostentatiously puffed gown.
Alyona Matwood, her chestnut hair wound tightly up, stormed into the lounge with her eyes blazing—without hesitation.
“What a coincidence. I had no idea Your Grace would be here.”
“I do not recall granting permission for the young lady of House Matwood to enter the lounge.”
Rene, pale as a sheet, shifted nervously from foot to foot.
She glanced between Alyona Matwood and the Duke, but neither showed any intention of yielding.
“Then…”
In the end, Rene could not finish her sentence.
A silence, thin and brittle as ice, seized the room.
It was Sveta’s calm voice that finally broke the tension.
“It seems you have something to discuss… I’ll wait in the carriage.”
Gathering the gloves she had set aside, Sveta rose from her seat.
“There is no need.”
Aiden extended his long arm and grasped her wrist.
He met her eyes. Beneath her long lashes, the pale blue of her gaze held quiet resolve.
“It makes me uncomfortable, Your Grace.”
Her gentle tone concealed her stubbornness well.
“Please, continue your conversation. And before you come out, do order the winter clothes.”
“…”
“I’ll be waiting.”
She offered Alyona a slight curtsey, then left the shop with light, measured steps.
As Sveta disappeared, Aiden’s neatly shaped brows gradually drew together.
***
“I will marry, but we will not share the same bed.”
For a moment, Alyona wondered whether that cold, expressionless face truly belonged to a man. She could only blink in silence.
“…Meaning?”
“It means there will be no heir between us.”
Was this what it felt like to swallow a flame? Alyona forced down the heat rising in her throat and asked.
“Then why, Your Grace, do you intend to marry?”
“Why do you wish to become Duchess?”
“That is…”
Because you are mine. Because you always have been. Because it is only natural.
Her lips moved soundlessly. The Duke watched her.
She felt humiliated.
In the center of those beautiful green eyes lay nothing but indifference.
He was asking, yet there was no sign he wished to hear her answer.
Suppressing the surge of emotion, Alyona replied.
“Because it is my rightful place.”
Aiden gave a short, dry laugh.
“That much, I acknowledge. So take it, then—claim that position.”
“I believed Your Grace was not one to play with words. But what you are doing now is clearly wordplay.”
“…”
He lifted one brow, as if inviting her to continue.
“You say you will marry but produce no heir. Where does such a thing exist? And yet you expect me to tolerate your… indulgences?”
“…Did you just say indulgences?”
His voice dropped lower and became colder.
He hadn’t moved, yet she felt a chill creep up her spine.
She had known him for a long time. The Aiden Strilland she knew was usually calm and aloof, but never unreasonable. He could tolerate a certain amount of insolence so long as nothing he valued was threatened.
From his reaction alone, Alyona could easily tell how deeply he cherished his mistress.
Biting down on her painted lips, she recalled her father’s advice.
“Yes. It is only temporary. A man’s heart… You must wait for the right time.”
Forcing patience through clenched resolve, she cooled her thoughts.
Aiden was approaching this marriage with strict political calculation. That meant such methods might work.
She decided to change her tone.
“I misspoke. I apologize, Your Grace.”
Though he had not invited her to sit, she took the seat opposite him on her own.
Aiden slowly crossed his long legs. Resting both arms along the back of the sofa, he tilted his head slightly.
Swallowing dryly, Alyona continued.
“Still, I believe an heir is a separate matter.”
The faintly amused expression returned to his face, but she did not stop.
“As you said, I need the position of Duchess. And as Your Grace knows, it is the role that suits me best.”
The sun beat down on her back.
Although it was only spring, she felt as though she were standing beneath the relentless midsummer sun, her breath catching in her throat.
Looking at the man in front of her only made matters worse.
His radiant face was almost too much to bear. His golden hair was swept neatly back from his brow and shimmered in the light. The smooth line from his well-shaped forehead down the bridge of his straight nose was strikingly elegant. The faint shadow beneath his nose, his perfectly sculpted lips, and the firm, masculine curve of his jaw were all perfect.
There was not a single flaw.
And perhaps because of that perfection, a quiet sorrow stirred within Alyona.
“So.”
“I have no objection to Your Grace keeping a mistress. I will not demand that you discard her. But the heir must be mine. If you agree to that, I will also cherish and support your mistress.”
It was a declaration that she would not ostracize the duke’s mistress from society.
At the same time, it emphasized her own position within it.
Needless to say, she had no intention of honoring such a promise. However, in Alyona’s mind, it was an excellent bargaining chip.
However, the reply she received was far from what she had expected.
“You have no authority over the matter of succession.”
Having said everything he wished to say—and nothing more—he rose with cool finality.
‘I have to stop him… I must say something.’
If she couldn’t find the words, she should at least scream.
However, remembering the Duke’s unyielding expression, she lost her courage.
By the time she was ready to speak up, he had already left the room.
“How can anyone be so… How can a person possibly be so…”
It was so cold.
Alyona stared at the tightly shut door as she felt something fall down her cheek, drop by drop.
When she realized they were tears, she began to sob uncontrollably.
“Hic…”
There was no one to comfort her.
This only made her cry harder.
Gripping the lavish folds of her gown until they were crumpled in her fists, Alyona began to think.
About what she must do next.
The answer came quickly.
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bluemoon238
While I dislike the ML, this woman is not attractive either. If only she were competent enough to get ML to let FL go it would be tolerable. Both of them are selfish spoiled brats with immense power over the lives of others. The two are perfect fit for each other. I just don’t want our FL between the two whales.