Previously
The Hugo family hosts a formal dinner for Damian Vandermeer, where the Marquis and Marchioness question the couple's compatibility and Damian's intentions. Damian surprises everyone by promising to respect Aracella Hugo's career at the Magic Tower, leading the family to reluctantly accept the union.
A sharp voice rang out inside the carriage making its way into the capital.
It belonged to Duchess Vandermeer, who was traveling toward the capital with her family after the second son’s sudden marriage announcement. Anxious and tense, she fanned herself furiously before whipping around to face her husband.
Duke Vandermeer shot a suspicious glance at his eldest son, who sat across from him. Though Oscar had inherited his father’s silver hair and brown eyes, his overall features favored his mother.
Gazing out the window in boredom, Oscar shook his head.
Though it had been a mere guess, the Duchess immediately latched onto the notion that Damian had sent a spy into the duchy and began to work herself into a fury.
With tear-filled eyes, the Duchess clutched her husband’s arm and pleaded.
She had married the Duke seventeen years ago and shared no blood with Damian. Damian was the son of the first duchess, whereas she had borne Oscar to the Duke before the first wife had even given birth.
Despite being the mother of the eldest son, she had only been the second wife, having conducted an affair with the Duke while the first duchess still lived. Once she delivered that firstborn and the first wife passed away, she had stepped into her predecessor's place.
Duke Vandermeer cradled his forehead in his hands, scowling deeply. He would have preferred to push through the arranged marriage, even if it ended in an annulment, since that would have made a laughingstock of his second son.
Yet even with Vandermeer’s prestige and sufficient justification to force a political match, he could not simply steer matters as he pleased. The Hugo family was, after all, among the most eminent noble houses in the empire.
the Duke growled under his breath. Given his infidelity, his relationship with his late wife had been fraught, making it only natural that things remained uneasy between him and his second son.
If anything, the rift had only widened after Damian had reproached him as a boy.
After throwing those words in his face, Damian had walked out of the ducal estate, and the Duke had cut ties with him for years. It was only natural to feel uncomfortable around someone who stoked one’s guilt.
The Duke flashed a broad smile, his face as handsome as a finely sculpted statue. Even the fine creases upon his brow lent an air of mature distinction.
The Duchess offered a shy nod and a smile in return.
Oscar replied listlessly.
The carriage carrying them bowled ahead toward Duke Vandermeer’s capital townhouse, where Damian was staying.
Damian Vandermeer stood before an arched gate plated in pure gold. With his hands shoved into his pockets and his chin tilted slightly upward, he watched the ducal carriage roll onto the grounds.
Colin delivered the report in a quiet voice as he drew near. Damian gave a faint nod.
As the family alighted from the carriage and approached, Damian withdrew his hands from his pockets and offered a cool smile.
the Duke replied frostily. Oscar yawned beside him, while the Duchess snapped open her fan, making no effort to conceal her displeasure.
Oscar sneered, clasping his hands behind his head.
Between these people, who had not laid eyes on one another since Duke Vandermeer’s last birthday, the air turned thoroughly arctic.
Looking upon a family whose conduct was far worse than his own, Damian let out a derisive scoff.
Damian cut Oscar off and turned on his heel.
By the time the family—still putting on airs of composure—had unpacked their belongings and descended to the dining hall, Aracella had arrived at the residence.
The moment Damian stepped out with the attendant, Oscar finally broke his silence.
Their venom toward Aracella was drawn entirely from idle gossip. Casting an irritated glance around the dazzlingly appointed hall, the Duke chimed in.
Just as they were busy plotting a union between Iris and Oscar to suit their own whims, a soft knock sounded at the door.
The door swung open, revealing Damian alongside his betrothed.
A ripple of shock passed through the room. The woman who stepped in beside Damian was undeniably striking. She looked neither odd nor unrefined; on the contrary, her elegance and beauty were enough to leave the three of them momentarily struck dumb.
Taking the hem of her floral-patterned pink gown, Aracella dipped into a graceful curtsy with a sweet smile. From head to toe, an air of unmistakable refinement clung to her.
The phrase “Vandermeer family” snapped them out of their daze. She had acknowledged them simply as the family of the man she intended to marry, rather than addressing them by their exalted ducal house.
Brushing aside their hostile stares, Aracella took her seat beside Damian, directly across from the Duchess. Oscar’s gaze remained glued to her, unable to fathom that a woman of such striking beauty was to be Damian’s wife.
“I was under the impression the young lady had pledged herself to celibacy. Whatever prompted such a sudden change of heart regarding marriage?”
The Duchess cut in sharply, only to plaster on a benign smile an instant later.
Despite the barbed remarks, Aracella offered a mild smile and answered with total deference, betraying not an ounce of irritation. It left the Duchess wondering if the girl was simply meek by nature.
Just as that thought crossed her mind, Aracella spoke again.
Damian choked on a sip of water at her blunt admission. Hastily dabbing his mouth with a napkin, he turned an astonished gaze upon her.
Aracella was smiling audaciously, meeting the Duchess’s stare head-on.
A stunned silence fell over the table at the utterly unprompted answer. The Duchess could only gawk at her in disbelief.
She spoke with the easy familiarity of a mother invoking Damian’s name, causing Damian’s brow to furrow faintly.
Aracella replied coolly and turned her attention to her plate.
Unnerved by the lack of reaction, the Duchess shifted in her seat and pressed her fingertips to her lip.
Under the laws of the Citron Empire, adults could marry so long as each party provided a single witness.
While family members typically stood as witnesses, friends or any third party would serve just as well.
Aracella offered an airy shrug alongside her brazen smile, driving a flush of anger to the Duchess’s cheeks.
Cutting across the Duchess’s indignant outburst, Aracella cast her gaze down in sorrow. Her radiant, delicate beauty lent her an air of utter vulnerability.
Oscar stared at her with rapt fascination, on the verge of being completely captivated until his mother ground her heel into his foot beneath the table, snapping him out of it.
Lifting her eyes with bold composure, Aracella turned her gaze toward Damian.
Damian paused for a brief moment as he met those blue eyes, glistening clear like water under summer light, before shaking his head.
His reply fell calm and even, followed by a chilled stare directed toward the Duchess.
The Duke flew into an abrupt fury over those few simple words. Damian’s expression froze at the word ‘mother.’
Noticing the look in his eyes, Aracella raised a hand to intercede between father and son.
As the ducal family sputtered in renewed disbelief, Aracella let out a heavy sigh and made a show of dabbing at her eyes, though not a single tear was present.
Feigning deafness to the Duchess’s protests, Aracella deliberately raised her voice and returned to her meal. The cheerful clatter of her cutlery rang out as she ate with unbothered gusto.
A sharp instinct whispered to Damian that taking this woman as his wife might well prove to be one of the finest choices of his life.