When breakfast was over, Caelan headed out first, his long steps echoing through the hallway. His knights were waiting for him at the exit, stationed there at his orders. His aunt soon hurried after him, gathering her skirt as she tried to keep up.
"Caelan!"
But he didn't answer right away. Instead, he signaled to one of his knights.
"Tell the stable master to have my horse ready in six minutes."
The knight bowed. "At once, Your Grace." And he strode off.
Constance reached him at last, stopping just beside him. "Caelan, can you not hear me when I'm calling you?"
He exhaled and turned to face her, forcing his expression into something polite. "What is it, Aunt? I'm meeting with the warden at a scheduled time. Can this not wait until I return?"
"No," she shook her head. "It is obvious to me that that woman you married has bewitched you."
Caelan blinked. "What?"
"You know exactly what I mean," she insisted. "What you did at the dining hall was completely unnecessary. Marianne is hurt, and you don't seem to care about her feelings at all. Why, Caelan?"
Caelan's brow drew together in genuine confusion. "What do you mean why? And why would she be hurt by that? Marianne is not my wife."
"And that damaged woman is?"
"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "That seat was reserved for my wife. I didn't object to Marianne sitting there all these while because I had no wife, and I never planned to take one. You all fed her those fantasies about me marrying her someday, so if her feelings are hurt, the fault lies with you and everyone else who encouraged her. Now that I am married, she has no claim to that seat. I am simply upholding our custom. That doesn't mean I'm bewitched."
"Aren't you the least bit concerned that that ugly duckling might destroy our family someday?" his aunt pressed, lowering her voice. "Do you truly believe she will stand by while the same House that burned down her home thrives? She is not as timid as you assume. That girl is dangerous. What we should be doing is to have her isolated so she doesn't plan something against our home."
"If she does try something stupid, you know I will not be lenient," Caelan replied, his tone firm. "If she's wise, she'll know never to get on my bad side. So you don't have to worry about that."
He glanced toward the courtyard. "I really have to go. You take care of yourself."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving his aunt standing alone in the hallway.
**************
"Right this way, My Lady," the steward guided Lilian down the corridor toward a pair of double doors. He paused to fumble through the heavy ring of keys at his waist, selecting one with practiced precision before unlocking the door.
"This is your private chamber, as confirmed by the Duke," he said, gesturing for her to step inside and have a good look at it. Although he wasn't sure why the Duke suggested a different chamber for his wife, it was not in his place to ask such private matters in that regard.
Lilian, on the other hand, could hardly believe what she was seeing. Her footsteps were muffled by the plush carpet as she stepped into the room.
The Duke had truly fulfilled her wish.
The room was undeniably expensive, grand, polished and immaculate. A sweeping canopy bed draped in silver-threaded fabric dominated one side, its post carved with delicate patterns. The walls were coated in soft sheen of pearl-grey, and the furniture gleamed with dark, lacquered wood. A crystal chandelier hung above, scattering lights like fractured stars.
Lilian's fingers lightly brushed the bedpost. Despite all the beauty, the space felt hollow. There were no books, no personal trinkets, nothing. It seemed as if no one had ever used this chamber. In other words, it felt lonely.
She turned to the steward. "Would it be possible for me to get a few things?" She asked gently. "Like some warmer blankets, and perhaps a few shelves for the books. And maybe, if it's not too much, some fresh flowers as well?"
"Of course," Cedric replied with a bow. "I shall see to it immediately."
"May I also see the maids assigned to me?"
"I'll bring them at once." With that, he excused himself and left the chamber.
Lilian glanced around the room once more before drifting to the window. She pulled the curtains open, letting a wash of cool morning light spill across the chamber.
"Oh.. a lovely view of the hills," she murmured to herself.
From where she stood, the snow-capped mountain rose in the distance, the early sun cresting behind it in warm gold. She had rarely been allowed to witness scenes like this… this quiet, untouched beauty, and now that she could, she found herself savoring it all the more.
It would be wonderful, she thought, to place a small cushion here. A simple nook where she could sit with a book, sip tea and enjoy the view each morning whenever she woke up.
All it needs is a little re-decorating.
But the soft smile on her lips slowly faded as a harsher thought settled, and her gaze dropped as though she realized she was already getting carried away.
This was not the time for her to get comfortable.
If she intended to uncover the truth behind her father's accusation… why the Morvanes destroyed House Vale, she would need to hear the story from many mouths and piece together the thread that aligned with the truth.
And with her current rank, even as the Duke's wife, she knew respect would be scarce. No one here will bend to her willingly, not with Constance and everyone else trying to demean her before the entire household. Which meant she would need to use the Duke's influence— strategically and quietly— without ever letting him know her true intentions.
She was going to bring down the Morvanes.
At any cost.
Only then could she avenge her father's unjust death.
A knock on the door jolted her back to the present.
"Come in."
The door opened, and three familiar maids walked in. They were all young women, and the same ones who had been tending to her since she arrived at the dukedom.
Lilian straightened, her expression warm but unreadable. If she was going to uncover the truth without anyone tattling her intentions to the household, she would have to move cautiously about it. That means she could only afford to keep two maids close to her…two she could trust, or at least predict.
She looked at them thoughtfully.
"I have a small question for you," she said gently. "Nothing serious. I just want to hear your thoughts."
The three girls exchanged curious glances.
Lilian moved toward the side tables and lifted two items: a soft, folded blanket and a slim, unopened book.
"If you were asked to bring comfort to someone who is troubled," she said, lifting both objects slightly, "which would you choose to bring first.. and why?"
It was harmless enough. But Lilian wasn't looking for the right answers. Rather, she was watching how they answered. Their instincts, their sincerity, their ability to think beyond the rules of the household. She needed maids who would lean toward her, not the Morvanes.
The first maid, Clara, spoke quickly, almost eagerly. "The blanket, my lady. Warmth is most important. A person must be physically comfortable first." Her answer was smooth and rehearsed. The kind of response from someone who cared more about correctness and answers meant to positively impress.
The second maid, Linda, hesitated before speaking. "The book, my lady," she said softly. "Sometimes a troubled mind needs distraction more than warmth. Comfort isn't always physical." She looked at Lilian as she said it, not down or away, but honestly.
The third maid, Elise, frowned slightly, thinking longer than the others. "I… would ask the person first before choosing, my lady," she admitted. "Some people need warmth. Some need quiet. I'd rather not assume what eases their hearts."
Lilian's gaze softened.
"Thank you," she said, setting the items down. "You may leave now."
Though confused, the maids bowed and stepped out. Only after the door clicked shut did she allow her expression to change.
Her decision was already made.
She had found the two she could work with.