The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

Damian turned around to see Maurice standing with a grave expression, one the Duke hadn’t seen on the bodyguard’s face in years.

"What is it?" Damian asked with the morning’s irritation.

"I heard your argument with the Duchess last night," Maurice said softly. He glanced toward the closed doors of the hallway. "Can we talk in private, Your Grace?"

Damian heaved a weary sigh and began walking toward the front of the cottage, Maurice following at a respectful distance. They stepped out onto the large stone balcony, where the morning mist still clung to the trees. Damian stopped at the balustrade, his fingers locking tightly behind his back as he stared out.

"Do you want to lecture me as well?" Damian asked, his tone defensive.

"No," Maurice replied, stepping up beside him. "I don’t dare to."

"Then?" Damian asked, his fingers twitching restlessly against his back.

"Your Grace, you should tell the Duchess about your suffering," Maurice stated, his voice ringing with a boldness born of long years of service. "If you won’t, I will."

Damian spun around promptly, his eyes narrowing. "You won’t do that, Maurice," he warned.

"Why? I can’t bear to see you suffer in this manner," Maurice asserted, refusing to back down. "You don’t go to bed at night. Instead, you are gripped by the past, and it is eroding your mind. Your first wife was your past. Your current wife is your present, and she will be your future. Don’t let these illusions overpower you. You will lose yourself, Your Grace. You deserve to be happy, and you cannot build that happiness on a foundation of misunderstandings."

Damian’s expression remained neutral. "Maurice, I thank you for your thoughtfulness. But I was true to my feelings last night. I don’t want Eilika to get close to me. I cannot allow it."

"So, the Duke won’t tell the Duchess the real reason for his coldness?" Maurice’s eyes searched Damian’s, desperately hoping for a sign of relenting.

"You have sworn to protect me, so just do that," Damian stated with finality. "Don’t say a word to Eilika. I trust you to keep your silence."

Maurice bowed his head, a heavy sigh escaping him. "I will... for the sake of your happiness."

"I will tell her myself one day," Damian pronounced, though the words sounded more like a distant hope than a plan. "I am trying to cope with it. And I have my insecurities, Maurice. You know that better than anyone."

"I know, Your Grace. But you should try giving a chance for yourself. At least, once," Maurice suggested. He then bowed and left his sight.

~~~~~

Inside the opulent drawing room of the Duke’s mansion, Georgia gave a subtle nod to the servant, who began to pour steaming tea into delicate porcelain cups for Eilika’s father, mother, and sister.

"We had intended to send word before our arrival, Your Highness," Wilfred began. He sat stiffly, his weathered hands resting squarely on his lap as if trying to anchor himself in the presence of royalty. "However, the longing to see our daughter simply overcame us."

"Indeed," Susan added, her smile perfectly poised, though her eyes darted around the room, taking in the grandeur. "We only hope that our Eilika is performing her marital duties with the grace expected of a Duchess. We would hate to think she has been any trouble to the House of Varos."

Georgia signaled for the servant to finish the service.

"Eilika is indeed performing her duties with remarkable poise," she said. "However, I’m afraid you’ve missed them. The Duke and Duchess are no longer at the palace; they have departed for their honeymoon."

Wilfred’s smile faltered instantly. He had arrived with the specific intent of cornering Damian, hoping to leverage his new son-in-law’s influence to bolster his struggling business ventures.

"A honeymoon? So soon?" Susan managed to ask, his disappointment thinly veiled.

"And where exactly have they gone, Your Highness?" Rosaline asked. Her eyes narrowed with a flicker of resentment. Her scarred sister was finally enjoying her life, something she had never expected.

"The Duke was quite firm about maintaining their privacy," Georgia stated, lifting her own cup with effortless grace. "He refused to share the location even with me. He was adamant that he wanted no disturbances during this phase of their marriage. He seems quite captivated with Eilika’s beauty. Have your tea before it grows cold."

Wilfred, Susan, and Rosaline finished their tea. Realizing there was no further reason to linger without the Duke present to hear his business pleas, Wilfred cleared his throat and stood.

"We shall take our leave now, Your Highness," he said, bowing his head respectfully. Susan and Rosaline followed suit.

"Of course," Georgia replied. She turned her gaze toward the butler stationed near the arched doorway. "See that the parting gifts for the family are placed in their carriage immediately." The butler bowed low and retreated to carry out the command.

As the parents began to move toward the exit, Rosaline lingered, clutching a small, intricately carved wooden gift box. "Your Highness," she said, her voice dropping to a performative sweetness, "I brought a personal token for my sister. I would prefer to leave it in her chambers myself, rather than with the common gifts, if you would allow it."

Georgia’s eyes swept over the young woman. She gestured to a nearby housemaid.

"Show her the way to the Duchess’s chambers," Georgia commanded.

As Rosaline followed the servant up the grand staircase to the chamber where Eilika began living. Her eyes fell on the man she had seen with the Duke the last time she visited her sister and decided to make a move.

Louis was going through the documents while walking on the corridor when he heard the footsteps and lifted his head only to find Rosaline.

The next second, he found her losing her balance. A chuckle escaped his mouth as he found Rosaline did it internationally so that he would catch her in time.

"Ahh!" Rosaline fell to the marble floor, the box from her hand dropped near Louis’s shoe.