The Duke And His Beauty

The soft golden light of the afternoon sun filtered through the grand windows of Rosellene's chamber, casting a warm glow over the luxurious vanity table where she sat.

A maid silently combed through her silken strands with habitual grace, while Millie, ever attentive, placed a delicate porcelain cup of tea and an assortment of light confections before her.

Rosellene reached for the cup, her movements slow and unhurried, her mind, however, was elsewhere.

Millie, standing by her side, hesitated for a moment before speaking. "My Lady, the invitations have been piling up again. And yet..." Millie's voice wavered, uncertainty laced in her words. "Do you not need to accompany the Countess today? It is customary, after all."

A soft clink resonated as Rosellene placed her cup back onto the saucer. Her gaze, reflected in the vanity mirror, held a distant amusement.

"I am not needed on this stage anymore," she mused, tilting her head slightly as the maid fastened a simple, yet elegant, jewel into her hair.

A faint chuckle followed as Rosellene leaned back slightly, fingers idly tracing the rim of her teacup.

"Mother has already achieved her purpose," she continued, her voice light, almost indifferent. "With the grand ball behind us, I have already played the part she wished for."

Millie observed her lady. The words carried no bitterness, only an understanding of the play that was executed in a noble society.

Rosellene rose gracefully from her seat, her movements unhurried as the servants instinctively stepped back, retreating to their places.

A soft smile adorned her lips, light, reassuring as if to ease Millie's unspoken concerns.

"After all," she mused, adjusting the cuff of her sleeve with measured grace, "I have been invited by Lady Elizabeth Valtierre, the fourth daughter of Marquess Valtierre. It would be terribly rude to refuse, wouldn't it?"

Millie inclined her head in understanding, though she remained silent.

Definitely, Lady Valentine would be more than pleased that her daughter was forming connections with young ladies of such high standing.

Rosellene made her way through the doorway, her delicate silhouette framed by the soft afternoon light.

A sleek, elegant carriage awaited her at the entrance, its polished exterior gleaming beneath the sun. The footman promptly opened the door as Millie adjusted the hem of her dress, making sure not a thread was out of place.

The journey to the tea house was brief, the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels blending into the quiet murmur of the wind.

The tea house, nestled within the heart of the capital, was an oasis of tranquillity amidst the city's noble districts.

Rosellene's arrival was met with a respectful bow from the attendants, who promptly guided her to a private room adorned with soft gold embellishments and delicate floral arrangements.

But the moment she crossed the threshold of the private room, the air around her shifted.

A slow smile curled at her lips, a quiet playfulness flickering in her eyes as the weight of aristocratic pretence lifted.

The carefully constructed poise that had graced her features only moments ago melted away, replaced by something far more natural.

Within the room, two figures awaited her.

Lady Celestine greeted her first, her usual calm demeanour tinged with amusement.

And seated beside her, swirling a cup of tea in idle amusement, was none other than Elizabeth Valtierre, the very friend who had gifted her the jewels Eleanor so 'generously' gave away.

"Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," Elizabeth teased, lounging effortlessly with a teacup in hand, a knowing glint in her gaze. "For a moment, I thought we'd be entertaining the Valentine heiress instead of our dear Rosellene."

Rosellene let out a soft chuckle, her movements relaxed as she approached the table. "Can't have that now, can we?" she mused, taking her seat with ease.

Elizabeth hummed, swirling the tea in her cup before setting it down. "And here I thought your mother would have you chained to her side after such a successful display at the grand ball."

"Oh, she would," Rosellene replied lightly, reaching for the tea Celestine had poured. "But there's no need anymore. My mother, I assure you, is quite pleased that I have found friends of such fine standing."

"Is that so?" Elizabeth drawled, arching a brow. "I suppose I should feel honoured then."

Celestine observed her for a moment, tilting her head ever so slightly. "She put you on display," she noted, her tone gentle yet knowing.

Rosellene merely smiled.

Elizabeth scoffed, folding her arms. "And here I thought the Valentine household might at least pretend to be subtle. But I suppose with that little sister of yours running around unchecked, there's no room for such grace."

Her words dripped with open disdain, and for a brief moment, the atmosphere in the room stilled.

Rosellene took the teacup between her fingers, the warmth seeping into her skin. "Perhaps," she admitted lightly, bringing the cup to her lips.

Elizabeth huffed in amusement, leaning back slightly. "If only that 'generous' little sister of yours could see it. Not that I imagine she has the sense to recognize anything beyond her own self-importance."

Rosellene glanced at her friend, the corner of her lips twitching upward. It was no secret that she harboured little fondness for Eleanor. Elizabeth had made it known more than once,

In her previous life, she had dismissed it...had even argued against it. Hadn't she, at the time, foolishly defended her little sister?

And yet…

A quiet, bitter amusement tugged at Rosellene's lips.

"How fortunate then," she murmured, eyes glinting with quiet amusement, "that I have no intention of repeating past mistakes.

Elizabeth blinked at her words, then tilted her head, an intrigued smile forming. "Oh? Now that's a sentiment I can drink to."

She raised her teacup in a casual toast, but Celestine, who had watched the exchange in contemplative silence, simply observed Rosellene a moment longer.

Perhaps she saw something. Perhaps she didn't.

But when she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. "Then let us hope, dear Rosellene, that your wisdom serves you well."

Rosellene merely smiled, though something unspoken lingered in her eyes.

Celestine sipped her tea with quiet amusement before steering the conversation elsewhere.

"You know," Celestine began, tapping her finger lightly against the rim of her cup, "Edgar mentioned something rather unsettling the other day."

Rosellene lifted her gaze, interest piqued. "Your eldest cousin?"

Celestine nodded. "Yes. As you know, he's in charge of capital security, and recently, the patrols have doubled. There was a sighting…of a Fallen Spirit."

Elizabeth let out a small laugh, setting down her teacup with a clink. "A Fallen Spirit? Here in the capital?"

She scoffed, leaning back against the cushioned seat. "Surely, that's just paranoia. We grew up hearing those stories, but has anyone actually seen one?"

Celestine arched a brow. "My cousin wouldn't make such a claim lightly. He was present when one was reported near a village outside the capital. The temple has already sent word to their knights to remain on alert."

A pause followed her words.

For the noble ladies of the capital, the Fallen Spirits had always been little more than whispers of folklore, the kind of tale that sent a shiver down a child's spine but held no real weight in their privileged lives.

Rosellene kept her expression carefully neutral, stirring her tea as if the conversation bore little consequence to her.

Elizabeth exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "How dull. If the temple's already handling it, there's no need to worry. But I suppose," she mused, "we could always make a trip to the temple ourselves. Pray for the capital's safety or something of the sort."

Celestine hummed in agreement. "That would be quite appropriate. The Temple of God is a sacred place, and it wouldn't hurt to seek blessings for the capital. After all, it is our home."

Rosellene glanced between them, a slow smile forming. "That would be a noble gesture indeed."

Elizabeth, catching the subtle amusement in Rosellene's tone, smirked. "Now, don't look at me like that. I do have a sense of responsibility. Besides, my father has ties with the temple."

"I can have him arrange for tokens of entry. The temple knights don't just allow anyone inside, after all."

The Temple of God, the holiest place in the kingdom, was both a place of faith and the training ground for those who wielded divine blessings.

It was said that the gods only granted their favour to a chosen few, bestowing upon them the power to stand against the darkness of the Fallen Spirits.

Their knights, unlike ordinary soldiers, bore the sacred markings of divine protection, making them the only ones capable of battling such entities without being consumed by fear.

And, Duke Azriel was one of them, and as a matter of fact, most of the knights under his command were blessed by the temple.

Despite its influence, the temple was not freely open to the public. Entry required either noble status or a special token granted by the temple's elders, something that only those with connections could acquire.

Rosellene tapped her finger lightly against the rim of her cup. "It's been quite some time since I last visited the temple," she murmured, as if in thought.

Celestine smiled, resting her chin against her hand. "Then it's decided. We'll make a visit."

Elizabeth waved a hand. "I'll handle the token situation. Consider it my contribution to our little act of charity."

Rosellene chuckled softly. An act of charity, indeed.

But she knew that soon, charity would not be enough.