The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

"Hah! Look at this, Susan," Wilfred said with triumph as he displayed the heavy parchment of the formal invitation. "Now, he will see what happens when someone humiliates me," he muttered, the bitterness of past rejections fueling his voice.

Susan looked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I won’t go to this wedding. Let the people of Varos see the empty seats. Let them whisper that the Duke’s new bride has a strained relationship with her own blood," Wilfred stated, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "His prestige depends on a perfect union; I will give him a broken one."

"Father, don’t be foolish," Rosaline interrupted in a sharp voice as she descended the stairs. She stopped directly in front of them with an expression of cold rather than concern. "If you do this, it will only backfire on us. Don’t take the Duke’s mercy lightly. If he desires, he has the power to destroy our standing entirely."

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "You scolded me when he found out I was the one who spread those rumors about myself. You were terrified then. Do not think that because he is marrying Eilika, he has forgotten his grievances against this house. An insult like this won’t just hurt Eilika; it will give the Duke a reason to finally finish us."

Susan nodded quickly, aligning herself with her daughter’s pragmatism. "Listen to Rosaline. She is telling the truth," she affirmed, her voice low and persuasive. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

Wilfred furrowed his brows, his pride clearly warring with his greed. "I merely wanted the Duke and Eilika to realize they made a mistake by humiliating me. I am the father of the bride, after all."

"Father, this letter and invitation are a mere formality. The world doesn’t care about your feelings; people always press their boots on the weak," Rosaline stated, crossing her arms over her chest with a cynical glint in her eyes. "We must go there tomorrow to stay in the Duke’s good graces. Who knows? If you play your cards right, he might actually help you with the business," she remarked with a sharp grin.

"Our daughter is absolutely right," Susan agreed, her mind already spinning with social maneuvers. "I will try to pull Eilika aside and make sure she whispers in the Duke’s ear to help you out. She’s his wife, no, she should at least be useful for something."

"Eilika won’t be useful," Wilfred stated, annoyingly, and sat down.

"If I talk, she may," Susan said with a confident gaze.

~~~~~~

The next day, the palace was a whirlwind of celebration. Servants hurried through the corridors, finishing the final touches on the floral arrangements and polished silverware. Georgia moved through the halls with a sharp eye, checking every detail to ensure that nothing would be compromised for the Duke’s wedding.

"Roman, why haven’t you gotten ready yet?" Georgia addressed her grandson, stopping as she found him playing in the middle of the main hall.

"Grandma, there is still time for that! Besides, my friends are coming shortly," Roman pronounced, an excited glint in his eyes as he imagined the day ahead.

"Your friends will arrive late. Did you practice how to enter the stage?" asked Georgia, already feeling tired from the morning’s frantic pace.

"Yes, I did. Twice in the presence of Uncle Sylvian and Uncle Louis. They said I walked perfectly," Roman said, his small voice filled with confidence as he rushed to the corner pillar to pick up his ball.

"Go to your father and sit with him for some time," Georgia told him, hoping to keep him out of trouble while the final preparations were finished.

"Father?" Roman pouted, looking down at the ball in his hands. He had gone to his father’s chamber earlier that morning, but Damian had been buried in paperwork and hushed conversations with the palace advisors. The boy looked back at his grandmother and saw her already pivoting to direct a group of servants with heavy drapes.

Finding himself momentarily forgotten, Roman didn’t head for the chambers. Instead, he slipped out the side door quietly, escaping the eyes of the distracted staff. He made his way to an isolated corner of the palace garden, a small clearing hidden by manicured hedges and stone statues.

Roman watched as the ball rolled precisely to the lady’s feet. He stopped a few paces away, puffing his chest out slightly to maintain his composure.

"Forgive me," he said, his voice echoing the polite tone he had seen his father use with guests. He hurried toward her to retrieve his toy, but Rosaline was faster, reaching down to pick it up before he could.

"Young Master, here," she said, her voice smooth and melodic. She held the ball out to him, a practiced, sweet smile lighting up her face.

"Thank you. Are you one of the guests? Did you lose your way?" Roman asked curiously, tilting his head. The garden was vast, and it wasn’t uncommon for visitors to wander away from the main path.

"Don’t you know me, Young Master?" Rosaline asked, placing a delicate hand over her chest as if she were slightly wounded by his lack of recognition.

The boy shook his head slowly, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember if he had ever seen her in the many portraits he’d looked at.

"I am your aunt, Aunt Rosaline," she introduced herself, her smile widening but not quite reaching her eyes. "The sister of your mother."

"My mama’s sister?" Roman’s eyes widened.

"Yes, young master," she replied.

"Then you are family. You can call me by my name. No one is allowed to see Mama because of a tradition, Aunt," Roman stated, his young voice full of importance as he explained the rules of the palace.

"It is a pity that Eilika didn’t tell you about me. I think she is still upset with me. In fact, she hates me," Rosaline said, her voice dropping into a dramatic, sorrowful whisper.

"What? My mama never gets upset with anyone, and she definitely doesn’t hate anyone," Roman refuted, his small hands clenching into fists. He wouldn’t hear a word against the woman who tucked him in every night.

"Oh, Roman. Your mother hates me because I am more beautiful than her. And she was so desperate because she was unable to find any suitors until your father’s proposal finally came to her," Rosaline stated, leaning in closer. Her eyes narrowed, and her smile vanished, replaced by a cold, scary expression that made the boy take a step back.

"Don’t you know what stepmothers are like? They treat you better at first, pretending to be kind, then they turn on you. They hate you because you aren’t theirs. Soon, she will have her own children, and where will that leave you?"