Chapter 185
Spring had suddenly come by the time the carriage bearing the Duke and his new Duchess reached Pellena.
The grand estate was awash in the white of early blossoms. Nerys marveled at the beauty of the ducal residence in the capital.
“It’s wonderful.”
“The inside isn’t bad either.”
Cledwyn helped her down with ease. Sunlight filtered through petals to rest on his face, and she smiled.
The more she looked, the more handsome he seemed. Usually, when one gazes long enough at a face, flaws begin to show. But in him there were none—like a fairy out of legend.
‘Fairies play tricks to ensnare people…’
But would Cledwyn ever stoop to mean tricks?
Embarrassing ones, perhaps… Her cheeks burned at the thought of what had happened in the carriage. Only kisses, here and there—yet why had they felt so sensual?
“My lady!”
A figure ran from the house. Nerys joyfully called her name.
“Dora!”
“You should call me madam now.”
Another familiar voice, slow and calm, spoke as another man stepped through the doors. Nerys recognized him too—Gilbert, the steward from White Swan Castle.
“So you’re here as well, Gilbert.”
“I arrived a few days earlier, to see the house was ready for its mistress.”
In the capital, where nobles constantly placed spies in each other’s halls, it was safest to bring one’s own people. Others could rely on trusted introductions, but not here.
Cledwyn noticed Nerys searching for another face and spoke apologetically.
“I didn’t bring your mother. The road’s too rough. Better to greet her back home than drag her over it twice. And there are safety concerns. Was that wrong?”
“No. You were right.”
The old Marquis of Tipian was dead, and his heir was not to be trusted. For her mother to travel, she would have had to take that dangerous cliff road.
Nerys buried her regret.
Gilbert and Dora led out a small crowd—faces long familiar from White Swan Castle, Hilbrin among them, already in tears.
The household lined both sides of the path from gate to door. Gilbert and Hilbrin bowed deeply.
“Welcome, my lady.”
“We greet Your Grace.”
As though they had always called her that.
Before the clean clothes, the beloved faces, and the stately house, Nerys felt an unexpected peace.
“Thank you. I’ll count on you.”
“We will serve you faithfully!”
Their voices rang together as the scent of spring blossoms lingered in the chill.
“Shall we go in, wife?”
Cledwyn kissed her hand lightly, offering his arm.
She walked beside him—toward the place that would be their home.
❖ ❖ ❖
“How is your injury?”
“Thanks to your concern, it’s healing cleanly. Still, it was a grave fault not to remain at your side, madam!”
“No, Dora. Others were there, and because you left, Nelusion was reassured.”
Truly, Nerys held no blame. She had worried, but seeing Dora’s color, she knew she was mending.
Her chamber in the ducal residence was as grand as befitted its mistress, bright with sunlight. Even the luggage abandoned when Adrian had dragged her away was here, arranged with care.
She sat at a marble table.
“We’ve only just arrived, but tell me the news of the capital. Anything amusing?”
“Yes, madam!” Dora’s voice was firm.
“The Duke and Duchess of Elandria have grown worse. He tried to call her home, but emotions long held burst out.”
“Why now?”
“When people cross a line, things once tolerable turn unbearable. Even familiar words start to wound.”
Nerys suspected Yaheon had stirred the quarrel.
“I see. And Valentine’s gone back to school?”
“Yes, madam. The term has begun.”
A difficult one for her—her parents fighting for the first time in her life, and she apart from them. At the Academy too, many owed money to the Duke or Wells family. Playing queen would not be easy.
“Spread the rumor their marriage is beyond repair. Let no one lend him a coin.”
“Yes, madam. Already the Crown is moving; nobles are cautious.”
The Crown knew of his ambition. They would drain him dry before autumn taxes came in. Time for the Morrier Merchant Guild to strike. Nerys smiled.
“Good. What else?”
“Lady Diane MacKinnon came to see you. She begged me to give you her letter upon your return.” (T/N: Would have been nice if Diane was there at her wedding.)
“We missed each other. But why was she in the capital? The MacKinnons always spend the feast in their lands.”
“She came to defend you. With Sir Joyce. First to Elandria’s, then here. But I could not say where you had gone.”
“So she asked for a letter.”
“Yes. We hadn’t said you’d return, but she seemed sure you would.”
Nerys marveled again at Diane’s insight. To her, Nerys was a fugitive accused of murder, vanished without trace.
“I must write to her. And to Sir Joyce as well—we owe him much.”
“And perhaps tell them of your marriage? A friend should hear such news from you, not gossip.”
“True.”
She remembered Diane’s temper before. Best not to provoke her further.
“What else?”
“Marquis Lykeandros’s daughter is betrothed to Duke Ganielo’s son. The terms are settled; only the signing and the ceremony remain. So though term has begun, she is still in the capital.”
“Megara?”
“Yes, madam.”
Dora had never met her, but from stories already disliked her.
“If Duke Ganielo’s eldest remains ill, she may be the next Duchess.”
In Nerys’s last life, that had never come to pass, but it was possible.
She knew Collin Ganielo well, the second son, Megara’s fiancé. His life was a bitter wait, hoping his sickly brother would die. Yet he never did, and Collin seethed.
The union of Lykeandros and Ganielo—pure politics. Collin boasted endlessly that Megara had been betrothed to him, not his brother. And when she dallied with the Crown Prince, he bragged all the more.
Twisted logic, but familiar to Nerys. In the palace, she had seen countless courtiers thrive on flattery.
Megara bearing the Prince’s child? To Collin, that would be triumph—he’d be the nominal father, securing him untold reward. A noble father was needed to cover a bastard Prince.
So Collin gloried in her as if he were the Prince’s chosen.
They were a perfect pair—in their own way.
Whether Collin would taste that glory again in this life remained to be seen.
Nerys only shrugged.
“First they must see the betrothal through.”
“Yes. Otherwise little news. Ah—madam, after supper, I’ll prepare your bath. Which incense would you prefer?”
Nerys blinked. Dora knew her tastes well.
“None is needed. But if you must, something soft.”
“Yes, madam! Would you see the new nightdress?”
“New?”
Why sew one here? They wouldn’t stay long. She already had her own in Maindulante—
And then she realized.
Not only Dora. Everyone here must think the Duke and Duchess would share a chamber tonight.
Her cheeks blazed. She covered her face with both hands and whispered.
“…This may sound silly, but… where am I to sleep tonight?”
“Madam? Why, in His Grace’s chamber, of course. You are newly married—”
Dora stopped, suddenly realizing.
The couple had not yet had their wedding night.
And it seemed they had made no arrangement for when it would come.