The Duke And His Beauty

The Imperial Aurelian Hall, the grand estate of the Grand Duchess of Caldermere, was a sight of splendour.

Gold and silver filigree adorned the towering columns, and crystal chandeliers hung like constellations, casting a warm glow over the marble floors.

The air was filled with the harmonious sound of strings, and the faint scent of fresh roses and lilacs, arranged intricately in porcelain vases along the walls, permeated the hall.

Servants moved with practiced grace, ensuring the seamless flow of fine wine and delicate pastries, while the hall filled with laughter, murmurs, and the occasional clink of crystal goblets.

It was a night of power, prestige, and unspoken rivalries wrapped in silk and lace.

Ladies adorned in the finest silks and men in embroidered coats engaged in careful conversations, weaving their influence with each well-placed word.

In the midst of this dazzling spectacle, Rosellene Valentine stood near the grand gallery, a silver goblet resting between her fingers, untouched, her expression composed yet distant.

Her gown shimmered subtly under the chandelier's light, every fold and embellishment carefully chosen to complement her beauty.

The subtle sheen of moonstone earrings framed her face, enhancing the brilliance of her gaze as she observed the evening unfold.

As she moved through the throng of nobles, her presence turned heads, eliciting murmurs of admiration and whispers of envy.

"Rosellene!" A familiar voice chimed in delight, snapping her from her musings.

"Oh, how lovely you look tonight!" The youngest granddaughter of the Grand Duchess, Lady Celestine, hurried toward her, her pearl-pink gown fluttering as she moved.

"Celestine," Rosellene allowed a soft smile to grace her lips as she greeted the young lady with a subtle curtsy.

"It's good to see you. You look radiant tonight, as always."

Celestine's usually bright expression carried a note of weariness. She let out a sigh.

"Radiant or not, If you knew the torment I've been through today! The preparations for this ball were a nightmare. Grandmother was adamant that every detail be perfect. I swear, I haven't sat down since dawn."

Lady Celestine cast a weary glance at the dazzling decor before lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper. "And do you know what she said after seeing everything?"

Rosellene arched a delicate brow. "Do tell."

"Acceptable." Celestine pouted dramatically, placing a hand over her heart as if wounded.

"Do you see what I mean? We nearly moved mountains for this, and all she could say was acceptable."

A quiet chuckle escaped Rosellene's lips, the amusement in her eyes fleeting yet genuine.

"Perfection, in the eyes of the Grand Duchess, is a standard few can reach," Rosellene replied with a knowing tilt of her head.

Her serene blue eyes sparkled faintly, betraying amusement. "But I'd say the results are worth it. The ballroom is magnificent, and so are you."

Celestine's lips curled into a satisfied grin. "Coming from you, I'll take that as high praise."

Then, as if suddenly remembering something she glanced over Rosellene's shoulder, her voice dropped conspiratorially. "By the way, I heard an interesting rumour."

Rosellene leaned her head slightly, a silent invitation to continue.

"It is said that His Grace, Azriel of Eryndor, has arrived tonight" Celestine's eyes gleamed with mischief.

"I caught a glimpse of him earlier near the northern wing. He didn't linger for long, but you know how the court is, everyone's already talking."

Rosellene's grip on her goblet tightened slightly, though her expression remained composed.

"Really?" Rosellene swirled her goblet lazily, "How rare."

"Rare indeed," Celestine agreed, before nudging Rosellene playfully. "Perhaps you'll catch his eye if you linger long enough."

Rosellene paused and gave a soft scoff. "You give me too little credit, Celestine. If I had such an intention, he would already be looking."

Celestine laughed. "So confident, as always. But truly, his presence has caused quite a stir. My mother said he rarely appears at these sorts of events, much less a mere birthday banquet—even if it is Grandmother's."

His Highness, Azriel, the Duke of Eryndor, was a name that carried weight. A man of formidable influence, his position in court was unshakable.

Unlike most nobles, he seldom attended social gatherings, preferring to rule his lands with quiet efficiency.

"What do you think?" Celestine prodded. "He's still unmarried, you know."

Rosellene hummed. "A man like him does not remain unwed for lack of offers."

"Of course not," Celestine agreed, "but he has turned down every proposal thus far. Which only makes him more desirable, don't you think?"

Rosellene tilted her head slightly. Desirable? Perhaps.

Rosellene's expression remained unreadable, her smile faint. "How intriguing," she replied, her tone carefully neutral.

"But tonight is about the Grand Duchess. I wouldn't dare draw attention away from her celebration."

Celestine giggled, leaning in as if to share a scandalous secret. "Oh, please, Rosellene. The Grand Duchess adores you, and you know it. You're the diamond of the season, after all."

Before Rosellene could speak further, a light cough from behind drew their attention.

Lady Valentine approached with Eleanor gracefully at her side., her serene expression betraying none of her earlier sharpness.

Her deep sapphire gown adorned with intricate embroidery, exuded authority.

Beside her, Eleanor stood adorned in a soft lilac dress that flattered her fair complexion.

Her expression was demure yet pleased as if she belonged right there beside the Countess.

"Lady Celestine," Lady Valentine greeted politely, her tone warm.

"Countess Valentine," Celestine quickly straightened and greeted politely, her cheerful demeanour replaced by the practised grace of noble etiquette. "It's wonderful to see you this evening."

Lady Valentine inclined her head slightly, a small smile curving her lips, warm yet measured. "Likewise, Lady Celestine, I trust the evening has treated you well?"

Celestine, ever the sharp observer, nodded, though a knowing glint danced in her eyes. "It has, thanks to Grandmother's exceptional standards."

A faint chuckle escaped Lady Valentine's lips before her gaze shifted to Eleanor. With a gentle touch, she smoothed a stray strand of hair from Eleanor's shoulder.

"Eleanor has been the very image of grace tonight," Lady Valentine said, her voice carrying just the right amount of admiration. "Such a thoughtful young lady. Why, just recently, she gifted a rather exquisite necklace to a dear friend."

Rosellene's fingers tightened imperceptibly around her goblet.

"Oh?" Celestine's brows lifted slightly in intrigue. "How generous of you, Eleanor."

Eleanor lowered her gaze, feigning modesty. "It was nothing. She admired it so much, and I couldn't bear to refuse her. It was only right to offer it as a token of our friendship."

Rosellene let out a soft scoff under her breath, but her expression remained unbothered, even mildly amused.

Lady Valentine, catching the subtle reaction, shifted her attention to Rosellene. For a brief moment, her gaze was unreadable before a smile once again adorned her lips.

"You look stunning tonight, Rosellene," she stated, her tone smooth, her eyes assessing.

It was not a compliment. It was a statement. A reminder.

Rosellene smiled faintly, the corners of her lips curving with practised ease. "I would never allow otherwise."

Lady Valentine nodded approvingly, satisfied. Her gaze swept over the ballroom, watching the graceful figures twirling in dance.

"It would be wise to make an impression tonight," she mused. "Opportunities such as these are not to be wasted."

Before Rosellene could reply, a nearby attendant discreetly approached Lady Valentine and whispered something into her ear. Whatever it was, it made her lips twitch in satisfaction.

"Excuse me, Lady Celestine, Rosellene. I must attend to something," she said, departing gracefully, leaving behind only the weight of her expectations,

Elenor smoothly followed her as Lady Valentine turned to address another approaching noble.

Celestine exhaled softly, glancing at Rosellene with a knowing expression. "Your mother has quite the presence."

Rosellene took a slow sip from her goblet, her expression unreadable. "She is simply efficient."

In the crowd, Eleanor smiled ever so softly, basking in Lady Valentine's approval, standing in the place where Rosellene had once placed her so proudly.

Rosellene's gaze remained forward, unreadable.

Celestine, watching the exchange with quiet contemplation, suddenly said, "You know, Rosellene, I remember you used to speak of Eleanor with such love and pride."

"You would always say how adorable she was. That she would grow into a fine young lady, a younger sister worthy of admiration." Celestine tilted her head. "But now… you don't say anything."

For a moment, the carefully constructed mask on Rosellene's face nearly wavered. Pride. Admiration. Had she once truly thought that? She couldn't recall. Not anymore.

But the words had been spoken, once upon a time.

A slow, elegant sip from her goblet. When she finally spoke, her voice was light, distant.

"You must be mistaken, Celestine," she murmured. "I don't recall ever saying such things."

Celestine watched her carefully before sighing. "I see."

She lifted her goblet once more, her expression unreadable.

She looked out over the dazzling crowd, where laughter and conversations intertwined like a grand performance. Every step, every word, every glance...choreographed to perfection.

And yet…

How utterly exhausting.