The Duke And His Beauty

As dusk settled over the capital, a soft golden hue casting long shadows across the cobbled streets, three elegantly dressed ladies stepped out of the private tea room.

The warmth of their conversation lingered as they exchanged brief farewells.

"Do write to me when you've secured the temple's token," Rosellene reminded Elizabeth with a small smile.

Elizabeth gave an affirming nod and teasingly reminded, "Of course. And if you receive any more letters from my cousin, burn them immediately."

Celestine chuckled lightly at their banter. "You should be honoured, Rosellene. It's not often Elizabeth's cousin is so persistent."

Rosellene merely smirked, adjusting the silk glove on her hand. "Persistence without value is a nuisance."

They exchanged a knowing look before parting ways.

As Rosellene stepped into her waiting carriage, the cool evening breeze rustled through her hair.

The carriage rolled into the Valentine estate, its lanterns glowing like fireflies in the evening mist. It carried with it the distant scent of blooming gardenias from the estate grounds.

Rosellene had barely taken a few steps toward the entrance when a familiar voice chimed in, sweet yet carrying a faint trace of complaint.

"Sister, why didn't you bring me out today?"

Eleanor emerged from the side corridor, her expression a perfect blend of innocence and mild dissatisfaction.

She walked toward Rosellene with an easy familiarity, as if her presence was always expected, always welcomed.

Rosellene glanced at her sister, her steps not slowing.

"I didn't realise I was required to," she replied lightly.

Eleanor pouted, falling into step beside her. "You always take me with you, I was waiting all day." she reminded her, linking her hands together as if in casual thought.

"I wasn't aware you had become so dependent on me, Eleanor," Rosellene said smoothly, amusement flickering in her eyes.

Eleanor let out a soft laugh, waving her hand dismissively.

"Mother always says that broadening one's social circle is important. And isn't it only natural for an elder sister to guide her younger one?"

Rosellene smiled faintly, but there was no warmth behind it.

Ah. Yes. I used to bring her everywhere.

Not out of obligation, but because she had once thought it was her responsibility, her role, to help Eleanor find her place in noble society.

To show her the world beyond the Valentine estate, to let her stand beside her, proud and cherished.

And what did that effort become?

A greedy wolf will never be satisfied once it has tasted blood.

Eleanor, noticing Rosellene's lack of response, quickly softened her voice. "Never mind," she said, slipping her arm around Rosellene's as they approached the drawing room. "Come, Mother is waiting."

Rosellene allowed herself to be led, though her expression remained calm. It's always something important, isn't it?

As they stepped inside, Lady Valentine sat gracefully on a chaise lounge, a steaming cup of tea beside her, an air of quiet authority surrounding her.

She lifted her eyes toward Rosellene, her expression unreadable.

"You've returned later than expected, Rosellene." The Countess's tone was mild, yet a note of reprimand lay beneath the surface.

Rosellene gave a practised smile.

"There was much to discuss," she replied smoothly, as Millie stepped forward to remove her outer coat.

Lady Valentine, however, seemed more preoccupied with the documents on the table before her. With a slight motion of her hand, she gestured for Rosellene to come closer.

"Sit, Rosellene. There are matters to discuss."

Eleanor, ever eager, took a seat beside their mother, her expression bright as she peered at the documents.

It was only as Rosellene drew nearer that she realized what lay before them...carefully compiled information on noble bachelors, their names, titles, and family standings elegantly penned in neat handwriting.

Lady Valentine tapped a stack of neatly arranged papers in front of her, a refined brow arching. "There are many promising young bachelors at the moment, Rosellene. It would be wise to start considering your options."

With an effortless motion, she picked up one of the pages and handed it to Rosellene, as if presenting a fine selection of wares.

Rosellene's gaze flickered over the document.

She took the paper but made no effort to truly read it. Instead, she set it back down on the table, her expression indifferent.

Her fingers traced the rim of the teacup set before her instead, the warm porcelain grounding her in place.

"I think it is entirely Mother's decision," she said, voice smooth but distant.

As Rosellene's indifference settled over the room.

Eleanor observed the shift in the air, her perceptive gaze catching the subtle stiffness in Rosellene's posture. With a lighthearted laugh, she turned to their mother.

"Sister isn't uninterested, Mother. Perhaps sister simply thinks it's too early for her."

Her tone was reassuring, but the weight behind her words was anything but.

Then, as if sensing the tension, Eleanor added with a delicate sigh, "Still, there's no need to be so perfunctory, Sister. Mother has put in so much effort for your future."

Rosellene turned her gaze toward Eleanor, her eyes cooling into an unreadable shade.

There was no anger in her expression. No visible displeasure. Just silence that pressed into the room like an unspoken weight.

It's always like this.

Eleanor played the perfect balance.

The understanding, the kindhearted younger sister.

Considerate and thoughtful.

Rosellene exhaled quietly, lowering her lashes.

There was no point in saying anything.

Words spoken here will only turn to dust.

Lady Valentine, sensing the pause, immediately shifted her approach.

Her poised expression softened into something warmer, a practised motherly concern laced with subtle insistence.

"Rosellene," she said softly, her hand resting gently over her daughter's. "As a Valentine, there are sacrifices we must make. But I know you understand that already. You have always been willing, haven't you?"

The warmth in her voice was a delicate mask, a reminder of duty woven into affection.

Rosellene lifted her gaze, her expression easing into something softer, something agreeable.

She smiled lightly as if to dissolve the thick air in the room.

"Of course, Mother," she said, her tone even. "I know what I should do."

A perfect answer. Just enough to end the conversation.

Lady Valentine studied her for a moment before nodding in satisfaction.

Eleanor, too, smiled as if all was well as if she had merely been looking out for her dear sister.

Just as Rosellene reached for her tea, the butler stepped forward, bowing respectfully before speaking.

"My lady, a messenger from the Marchioness of Denford has arrived."

The air in the room seemed to shift.

Rosellene's hand froze momentarily against the teacup, though she smoothly continued her movement as if unaffected.

Only those who knew her well might have noticed the slight stiffening of her shoulders.

The Marchioness of Denford.

A name from the past that carried far too many burdens.

Lady Valentine's expression brightened instantly, the sharp calculation in her eyes barely hidden beneath her composed demeanour.

"The Marchioness?" she repeated, her interest piqued.

The butler nodded. "She extends an invitation for you and the young ladies to accompany her at her estate for a tea gathering."

Eleanor's face lit up, clearly intrigued.

"Oh, what an honour!" she exclaimed, turning to their mother eagerly.

Lady Valentine did not need time to consider.

"This is wonderful," she murmured, tapping her fingers lightly against the armrest as she immediately began to formulate plans.

"The Denford estate… A private invitation from the Marchioness herself… Yes, we must prepare accordingly."

Eleanor turned to Rosellene expectantly. "Sister, this will be a rare opportunity. Surely, you're looking forward to it?"

Rosellene lifted her eyes, her expression unreadable.

Looking forward to it?

No.

There was nothing to look forward to when walking into a den of foxes dressed in silk.

But her lips curled into an easy smile, the perfect mask slipping into place.

"Of course," she replied. "How could I not?"

Eleanor let out a pleased hum. "Then, we should start preparing at once," she said cheerfully. "Mother, we should select the right attire… the right gifts. It wouldn't do to appear unprepared."

Lady Valentine nodded approvingly. "Indeed. We must make sure to conduct ourselves well. The Marchioness is not someone we should take lightly."

Rosellene simply inclined her head. "Naturally, Mother."

As the conversation continued, Rosellene lowered her gaze to her reflection in the tea's surface.

And this time, she had a feeling that the past she had carefully kept at bay was inching closer, waiting for the perfect moment to unravel.