Evangeline rose gracefully from her seat, catching a stray leaf drifting down from the greenhouse's hanging plants. Her eyes briefly followed its path before landing on Richard, who approached her with a determined stride.
"Richard, what are you doing here?" she asked, a slight edge to her tone as she set the leaf aside.
Richard stopped, bowing his head slightly. "Lady Evangeline... I need to have a word with you."
Evangeline sighed, gathering up her books and notes with practiced efficiency. "Alright, but I'm heading to a meeting soon. Is there something urgent?"
He clenched his fist, and after a moment's pause, his words came out with unmistakable intensity. "Grant me access to the Eastward wing and your family's jewelry inventory."
Her gaze sharpened, brows rising as she turned to face him fully. "Richard, if I could fulfill any wish of yours, I would... but the Eastward wing and my family's inventory are off-limits. I can't grant you that, Richard. The Eastward is where I conduct emergency duties; it's restricted—even Dominic isn't allowed there."
With a firm grip, she gathered her books and stepped past him, her heels echoing on the greenhouse floor. Richard followed her movements, his eyes narrowed.
"The night before you nearly drowned, I saw Dominic heading toward that place," he murmured, recalling the shadows where he had seen Dominic slipping toward the Eastward wing.
Evangeline halted, letting out a soft, sardonic laugh. "Dominic is banned from the Eastward now. He's not going near it anymore—I've banned him from the greenhouse before and I'll ban him anywhere again. Keeping him out is simple."
Richard raised an eyebrow. "And what about me?" he pressed, a hint of frustration in his voice.
She rolled her eyes, turning slightly to meet his gaze. "Richard, I shouldn't have to remind you that you're also restricted. You know it's a place that's forbidden to you. Don't forget, I am your master," she said, her voice cool, laced with unmistakable authority. "I can protect myself, Richard. My guards, Prince George, even my gun… I know how to fight. Dominic left the hotel and the Viceroy records in my hands. So, for now, he won't dare do anything to overstep. His attempt to access the Eastward was dealt with."
The intensity in her eyes left little room for argument. "I don't see any reason why you're strongly against me going there...."Richard's hand moved subtly, as if to reach for her, but she stepped away, dismissing him with a firm glance.
"Even so, the answer is no," she continued. "The Eastward is off-limits, for Dominic and for you. both of you aren't any different, I don't wish to discuss this further—I have work to attend to."
With that, she strode out of the greenhouse, leaving Richard behind. He watched her exit, an unreadable expression crossing his face. Finally, he turned to the table where she had left her tea and desserts. Picking up the empty teacup, he chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he poured himself a fresh cup. Taking a slow sip, he muttered under his breath, "One day, you'll see things differently, Evangeline."
Richard watched Evangeline's retreating figure, his gaze lingering as a flicker of frustration crossed his face. He picked up a delicate dessert from her plate, absently taking a bite as his thoughts churned.
"No matter how strong you think you are, Evangeline, you can't protect yourself yet," he mused, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You've been raised with the privilege of a royal title, treated well, shielded. Even learning to fight hasn't changed the fact that, to the world, you're a woman—a tool for marriage, bound by the constraints of your station."
He sipped the tea slowly, his gaze drifting around the lush greenhouse as he let the words settle in his mind. "Not that I doubt your strength or what you've endured. You've fought hard, undoubtedly. But your understanding of protection? It's idealistic, naive. You have little idea how relentless, how ruthless the world can truly be."
He set the cup down, his fingers brushing over the handle as if it were an outlet for the unspoken tension simmering inside him. "In a world full of calculated threats, your defenses would be mere illusions against those who wouldn't hesitate to exploit your weaknesses. I know this better than anyone. It's what drew me in."
His eyes narrowed, scanning the greenhouse as if searching for the source of his own unease. "Why does her stubborn insistence, her futile struggle to stay independent, get under my skin so deeply? Why does it make me feel as if I'm losing control?"
Taking another bite, he let the question linger, unsettled by how this affair had shifted something inside him. Evangeline had not only breached his guarded exterior but had also become a challenge—a variation on his otherwise steady path. A deviation he hadn't foreseen.
He drained the last of the tea, letting the warmth of the liquid fill the brief silence as he considered his next move. "One day," he thought, a glint of determination in his eyes, "you'll understand how this world really works, Evangeline. And on that day, you'll see why I stood by your side."
For now, though, he would watch her from a distance, drawn to the enigma she had become—a force that both enticed and unsettled him, her defiance sparking a thrill he couldn't quite shake.
Dominic lingered in the palace garden, dressed in a white, open-chest shirt with elegantly puffed long sleeves that accentuated his broad shoulders, paired with dark trousers that framed his tall, lean figure. His casual attire only added to his striking beauty, making him look like a figure out of a painting, blending seamlessly with the lush, historical elegance of the garden. He was seated in the shade of a gazebo, engrossed in some of the Duke's records, his focused gaze scanning the pages with quiet intensity as he considered his plans for the coming days.
"The Hawrick family…" he thought, eyes narrowing slightly as he mentally mapped out each step he would take to deal with them. With three days left before the hotel anniversary, he reviewed potential alliances and vulnerabilities he could exploit. His mind was a calculated storm of strategies, each one sharper and more precise than the last.
A guard approached, bowing respectfully. "Your Grace... you have a visitor," he announced.
Dominic raised an eyebrow, barely shifting his gaze from the records as he considered who it might be. "Perhaps the fashion designers," he mused, recalling an upcoming fitting.
"Let them in," he replied smoothly, flipping to the next page as if unperturbed.
The guard bowed and exited, leaving Dominic in silence once more. He closed the records, his fingers trailing over the leather-bound cover thoughtfully. With a final glance at the garden, he rose, his movements graceful and composed, exuding an effortless poise. He tucked the book under his arm and made his way toward the palace entrance, the measured rhythm of his steps echoing his unwavering confidence.
A few minutes later, Dominic entered the sitting room where the fashion designers waited. As he stepped into the room, his commanding presence filled the space, and the apprentices among the designers stole awestruck glances at him. His refined features, coupled with the effortless elegance in his casual attire, made it impossible for them not to admire him.
"Good morning, Your Grace," they greeted in unison, dipping their heads respectfully.
"Good morning," Dominic replied with a charming grin, his eyes gleaming with a touch of warmth. "It's been a while since we last met before the wedding…"
"Yes, Your Grace," replied Agatha, the middle-aged head designer in the group. "I hear your coronation as Duke is next month. Allow me to extend my congratulations."
"Thank you, Madam," Dominic said, inclining his head slightly. "I invited you here to create something special for myself and Evangeline for the occasion. The gown you designed for her at our wedding was remarkable, so I have complete trust in your skill."
Agatha flushed with pride and bowed her head. "Your Grace, I was only doing my job. I've known Evangeline since she was a child; it was a joy to create something so meaningful for her."
Dominic's smile softened. "Indeed. And I appreciate that greatly." He handed her a slip of paper. "These are Evangeline's measurements. She's recovering well, so you won't need to remeasure her. But as for me—" he motioned to himself—"you may take mine now."
Agatha took the paper, adjusting her glasses to examine the details, and blinked, surprised by the accuracy. Laughing nervously, she asked, "Pardon me, Your Grace, but how did you come by these measurements? Have you taken up fashion, or did someone else assist you?"
Dominic chuckled, dipping his hands into his pockets with ease. "Not quite. I simply guessed from observation. An old friend taught me a few things about measurements—though not exactly for fashion."
He cast his gaze thoughtfully aside for a moment, recalling his time with Evangeline. "We've been close for years," he thought, "through training, arguments, and quiet moments. Knowing her measurements is simply part of knowing her."
Agatha raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Well, Your Grace, that's remarkable. I'll take your measurements now." She tucked the paper carefully into her jacket pocket, then hesitated before asking, "And… how is the Lady? It's been so long since I've seen her."
Dominic's expression softened, though a glimmer of pride showed in his eyes. "She's doing well. In fact, she's representing me at a board meeting right now."
Agatha's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "A meeting? Evangeline has never attended meetings before. I didn't realize she had started…"
Dominic noticed her curiosity and offered her a reassuring smile. "This is only the beginning," he thought, determined. "Evangeline deserves to be respected. No one will look down on her again."
As he held his posture with quiet confidence, Agatha's apprentices came forward, their eyes admiring the way his elegant yet strong frame made the task of taking his measurements almost an art in itself. They couldn't help but exchange shy glances as they worked, captivated by his composed and graceful demeanor.
Evangeline arrived at the hotel in a sleek, polished automobile. As the driver parked, he swiftly moved to open the door for her. She stepped out gracefully, carrying a small, elegant bag, and dressed in a flowing aquamarine gown that accentuated her poised, refined presence. Her dress shimmered subtly in the light, catching attention with each step. She wore delicate gloves, an intricate organizer hat perched atop her head, and heels that clicked softly against the pavement. With a gentle nod to the driver, she conveyed her thanks before gliding toward the entrance.
Inside, hotel staff greeted her with respectful bows, and she acknowledged them with a composed smile before making her way to the manager's office. Once inside, she sat across from Edward Jenkins, a seasoned gentleman with sharp eyes and an attentive demeanor. Together, they reviewed reports in a thoughtful discussion. As the meeting wrapped up, Edward escorted her to the conference room for her official meeting with Caleb.
"Dominic won't be attending today," Evangeline said, her tone calm and composed. "He mentioned he had some matters to attend to."
Edward rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I see… Well, Evangeline, you've truly done an excellent job. All these years, we thought you were simply observing. But I've read your reports—impressive work." His warm gaze hinted at pride and approval.
Evangeline chuckled softly, a slight sparkle in her eyes. "Thank you, Uncle Eddie. This hotel has always been a part of my family's legacy. As a Sarogath, it's my duty to ensure it thrives."
Edward chuckled as well, nodding in agreement. "And with the anniversary approaching, I'm curious—what plans do you have in store for the event?"
Reaching into her bag, Evangeline handed him a neatly sealed envelope. "Here's the plans for the anniversary. I received the guest list from Dominic already, so now we just need to finalize the invitations. Some are a bit delayed, but we'll send apology letters along with them."
Edward opened the envelope, reading over the details of the anniversary plan as they walked together down the grand hallway toward the conference room. The elegance of her stride, the soft rustle of her gown, and the poised tilt of her head made her every movement seem as if she were gliding, a true vision of grace and strength.
Verdaselles Palace
Richard walked through the grand hallway of Verdaselles Palace, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished floors. As he rounded a corner, he noticed Magdalene approaching, blankets draped over her arm. She paused, offering a polite nod.
"Good morning, Mr. Richard," she greeted with a soft smile.
Richard nodded in return, his eyes drifting momentarily over the blankets she carried. "Good morning, Magdalene."
She tilted her head slightly, curiosity evident in her expression. "Did you go to see Lady Evangeline today?"
A faint smirk crossed Richard's face as he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that seemed both casual and calculated. "Kind of," he replied. "She was busy, though. Mentioned something about heading to work."
Magdalene's gaze lingered on him briefly before she spoke again, her voice gentle. "I see... Would you care for a drink or something to eat, maybe?"
Richard shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Not hungry, just… a bit bored, honestly. Thought I might head to the library and find something to read."
Magdalene lowered her head slightly, seeming almost disappointed as she replied, "Oh… alright then." She adjusted the blankets on her arm and moved to pass him.
"Magdalene," Richard called after her, his tone quiet but carrying a hint of tension. She paused in her tracks, glancing back over her shoulder.
"Yes, Mr. Richard?" she asked, her fingers absently smoothing over the edge of the blanket, watching him with a hint of apprehension.
Richard's jaw tightened as he looked down, his fists clenching momentarily before he lifted his head, meeting her gaze. "I wanted to ask you something. About the Eastward."
A shadow crossed Magdalene's face, and she let out a quiet sigh, turning away slightly. "I'm afraid I can't answer that, Mr. Richard. The Eastward is a private part of the family estate—a place even Dominic is forbidden to enter. It's a monument of sorts… deeply personal to the family. Only those servants who are tasked with cleaning it have access."
Richard raised an eyebrow, his curiosity undeterred. "And what about the family inventory? Is that restricted as well?"
Still facing away, Magdalene nodded, her voice firm but apologetic. "Yes, unfortunately. Only designated servants are allowed to enter. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do about it."
With that, she continued down the hall, her figure disappearing into the dim light as Richard watched her go, an unspoken frustration etched in his gaze. As her footsteps faded, he exhaled slowly, lingering for a moment before turning on his heel, resigned to make his way toward the home office.