The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

Eilika didn’t hesitate, recounting the entire conversation. She detailed the remarks made by Lady Alessia and the others, explaining how they had weaponized the late Duchess’s memory to undermine her own position.

"I respect your first wife, Damian. I truly do," she said, her tone steady. "But I will not let them cheapen her memory by using it to peddle their own petty grievances. It felt wrong to hear them claim she would begrudge this household happiness or to suggest I am a mere placeholder. If I overstepped in silencing them, tell me plainly."

Damian set his spoon down, his focus entirely on her. "Ignore them. Those women rely on assumption because they lack actual insight. They don’t know the truth, and they certainly don’t know you."

He leaned forward, his gaze direct. "Liliana is my past. You are my present and my future. If I have managed to find some semblance of stability after years of being on edge, it is because of your influence, not in spite of it. Do not doubt your place here."

Eilika offered a grateful smile. "I saw my father’s carriage leaving earlier. Did you summon him?"

"I did. I am helping him, but not in the way you might think," Damian said. "I am restructuring his business operations and ensuring he pays back the people he defrauded. He needs to rectify his mistakes."

"Oh." She glanced at the dense stacks of paperwork cluttering his desk. "Do you need help with those?"

"These are the account ledgers," Damian said, his expression curious while holding the spoon. "Can you handle those calculations?"

"I am decent with numbers. I can try." She stood and picked up a bundle of documents. However, as she scanned the dense, intricate rows and columns of figures, her confidence waned. The complexity was far beyond her experience.

"I don’t think I can," she admitted, placing them back down.

"You don’t need to force it," Damian said, his tone softening. "Just focus on the estate and Roman. He has grown accustomed to your presence; he will throw a tantrum if he doesn’t see you around. I am not implying your life should revolve entirely around him, but—"

"I understand," Eilika said, nodding and returning to her seat. She asked him to focus on the meal and a silence stretched between them until he finished.

Eilika packed the box and put it into the bag.

Damian drank a glass of water and thanked her again for bringing the lunch for him.

"I’ll see you to the carriage," Damian asserted.

Eilika hummed and together they went outside.

~~~~

Roman focused intently on his painting, dragging the brush across the paper to capture the shape of the vase. Once he finished, he lifted the sheet and turned toward his attendant.

"Is it good?" he asked.

"It is excellent, Young Master," the attendant replied with a smile. "But you have been working for quite a while. Would you like to take a break?"

"No. I need to show Mother first," Roman said. He ignored the streaks of paint smeared across his cheeks and hurried out of the room before the attendant could stop him.

Roman stopped at the entrance of Eilika’s chamber, noting the uncharacteristic silence within. He stepped inside, his painting held tightly in his hand, and scanned the room until he spotted her.

"Mama!"

His face lit up, and he broke into a sprint, eager to show her his work. But his momentum was his undoing; his feet caught on the edge of the smooth marble flooring, and he went down hard.

Eilika bolted from her seat, Joanna following close behind. She reached him in two strides, scooping him up before he could fully spiral into tears. Roman’s face scrunched up, his eyes welling with sudden, sharp pain as he clutched his knee where it had struck the hard surface.

"It hurts, Mama," he whimpered, his bottom lip trembling.

Eilika pulled him into her lap, rubbing his back in soothing, rhythmic circles to settle his shock. "I know, I know," she murmured.

She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his hair before inspecting the injury.

She pursed her lips and blew cool air over his knee, her touch feather-light as she massaged the skin to dull the sting.

"Feel better?" Eilika asked.

Roman gave a small nod.

"That is why you must not run so fast," she reminded him. She noticed the paper lying on the marble floor and retrieved it, then scooped Roman into her arms and carried him toward her room.

"Did you draw this?" she asked, glancing at the painting.

"Yes. It’s a flower vase," Roman answered.

"It is beautiful. Let us frame it together," Eilika promised.

They were nearly at the doorway when the sound of voices stopped them. Two maidservants were standing nearby, gossiping loudly, completely unaware that Eilika and the young master were right there.

"Have you heard? The competition is being held again after four years. I wonder if the Duke and Duchess will take part," one maid remarked, unaware of the approaching figures.

"Why wouldn’t they? It is a couple’s competition, after all," the other replied.

"But there is nothing ’couple-like’ between them. They don’t even—"

"How dare you two speak of the Duke and Duchess behind their backs?" Joanna’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

The maids jumped, their bodies stiffening as if struck. They spun around, only to freeze when they saw Eilika standing there, Roman clutched firmly in her arms.

The blood drained from their faces, and they began bobbing their heads in a frantic, stuttering display of contrition, begging for mercy as the

"What is this competition, exactly? I would like to know the details myself."

The two maids exchanged a nervous glance, clearly stunned that the Duchess was not dismissing them for their insolence.

"It is an annual event, Your Grace," one of them answered, her voice trembling slightly. "It involves a series of challenges designed to showcase the compatibility and strength of noble couples. It is held in the capital."

Eilika nodded, filing the information away.

"And we believe it would be an honor for the House of Varos if the Duke and you were to participate?" The second servant replied.

"Yes, Your Grace," the first maid added quickly. "It is the most prestigious event of the season. Participation would be... very significant."