The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service -
Chapter 62: Night Intruders
Chapter 62: Night Intruders
Felix’s unwavering gaze remained fixed on the document before him, his hands firmly grasping the elegant black fountain pen with its shiny golden tip. Meanwhile, Damien stood nonchalantly by the tall, wide window, casually scanning the black letters adorning the white sheet of paper, clearly absorbed in its evidently significant contents.
A faint galloping sound caught Damien’s attention, drawing his yellow eyes toward the mansion’s gate.
"What is the Temple carriage doing here at such an hour? Could it be that Lady Rosalie summoned Revered Altair?"
Upon a quick glance outside the window, Felix merely shrugged his shoulders, seemingly uninterested, and casually replied as he returned to his tasks.
"Ah, indeed. Lady Rosalie and Revered Altair ventured out at noon, and it appears they are returning now. Miss Aurora mentioned something about them going on a date."
Upon hearing this, Damien’s body tensed instantly. Struck by a figurative bolt of lightning, he turned around and asked with a voice verging on a shout,
"They did what?!"
The sudden outburst from the duke made Felix wince, inadvertently causing him to drop the fountain pen and inadvertently bespattering an important document with a large blot of black ink. Emitting an irritated sigh, he replied,
"Miss Aurora informed me that Lady Rosalie took Revered Altair on a date as a gesture of gratitude for his assistance to Sir Logan. I assure you, it’s likely nothing significant; she was merely being kind."
Damien’s body grew inexplicably agitated and infuriated. Determined to suppress these emotions, he attempted to refocus on the document in his hand. However, the letters seemed to dance before his eyes, rendering concentration impossible. Frustration culminated, and he could no longer contain his annoyance.
With a loud, exasperated groan, he dropped the papers onto the desk, causing Felix to drop his pen again, leading to yet another unsightly ink stain on an important document. In a haste, Damien stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut with a resounding bang.
His heavy footsteps resonated throughout the tranquil hallway, each step echoing like the strike of a powerful hammer. Determined and resolute, he strode toward the mansion’s entrance when the tall door swung open, inviting Rosalie inside. Initially taken aback, Damien swiftly regained his composure and hurriedly approached her, his voice loud and cold as he inquired,
"Lady Rosalie, why have you returned so late, and where have you been?"
Damien’s inquiry halted her in her tracks, leaving her momentarily stunned. However, she quickly gathered herself and responded almost instinctively, as if she had rehearsed a prepared answer beforehand.
"I went to Central Capital with Altair, Your Grace."
Damien’s eyes widened at the apparent familiarity in her tone.
’Altair? They are already on a first-name basis?’
A fresh wave of anger surged within him, kindling an inferno in both his heart and mind. With a stern and reprimanding tone, he pressed on,
"You should have directly notified me of your plans, Lady Rosalie. Furthermore, venturing out without Logan, especially following the unfortunate incident with your late brother, was a careless decision. Moreover, a young woman of your standing should not be alone with another man; such actions can tarnish your reputation!"
Rosalie found herself momentarily speechless, disheartened by Damien’s unreasonable anger and his manner of speaking. However, instead of feeling concerned, an undeniable sense of irritation began to grow within her.
"Why should I not go out with another man who is my friend? What reputation are we even discussing?"
Damien’s eyebrows arched, clearly exasperated by the girl’s question.
"We are betrothed, Lady Rosalie. It is highly improper for an engaged woman to go out with another man, even if our engagement is not genuine."
Despite the sensibility of his reply, Rosalie couldn’t shake the feeling that his reaction and tone were overly dramatic, particularly considering both of them knew their relationship was based on a charade. Nonetheless, she was too fatigued to engage in an argument, so she offered a brief apology and excused herself, retreating quietly to her bedroom, rendering that unpleasant conversation finished.
***
Despite having indulged in a lengthy and refreshing bath, as well as sipping a cup of calming tea, Lady Ashter remained restless. She found herself seated in a rocking chair by her window, immersed in contemplative silence.
The plaintive sighs of the impoverished denizens in the grimy slums continually intruded upon her attempts to find solace in sleep. Before she knew it, her mind was awash with a chaotic array of emotions and thoughts that constricted her chest with a tightening grip.
’Does the Marquess’s title still hold enough wealth...? Since I do not intend to stay in the Capital, selling our properties might be an option... I have been pondering this since dinner, and now I am unable to find repose. Perhaps another cup of tea or some warm milk will help compose my thoughts once more.’
As Lady Ashter strolled along the mansion’s hallway, she couldn’t help but take note of its well-lit ambiance, even though the small dimmed yellow lights within the crystal cups of the hanging lamps gently flickered like tiny fires.
’I have observed this before as well – even during the night time, this place manages to evade darkness. Is it for mere convenience, or does Damien despise darkness?’
Upon arriving at the kitchen situated on the first floor, adjacent to the maids’ quarters, Rosalie paused, startled by the radiant light emanating from the slightly ajar door.
"Who might that be? Even the maids are expected to be asleep at this hour... Could someone else be suffering from insomnia as well?" Rosalie pondered silently.
Despite her curiosity, she hesitated to enter, her heart thumping loudly, a blend of subtle fear and nervousness coursing through her. Summoning her courage, she took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open, only to be taken aback once again.
"Your Grace?"
To her surprise, the nocturnal intruder turned out to be none other than Damien Dio, the duke himself, caught red-handed with a large glass bottle of alcohol and a piece of hard cheese. He stood frozen, akin to a guilty criminal apprehended in the act, unable to gather his thoughts and fully comprehend the unfolding situation.
’Ugh, now she will probably think of me as a drunkard... Why on earth did I take the entire bottle instead of just a glass?’
He let out a long, exasperated sigh and managed to muster an awkward smile as he finally attempted to explain his late-night presence.
"Uhm, Lady Rosalie... This is not what it appears. I couldn’t fall asleep, so––"
"Your Grace... Is that alcohol... Strong?"
Damien’s eyebrows shot up, and he fixed a blank stare on Lady Ashter, slightly perplexed, and not entirely certain he had heard her correctly. After a moment of silence, he slowly nodded, confirming her inquiry.
Suddenly, Rosalie’s pink lips curved into a somewhat content smile, bestowing her with a relaxed countenance.
"In that case, may I join you, Your Grace?"
The duke briefly inspected the glass bottle in his right hand, appraising its quality, then nodded once more, responding with a subtle smile,
"Certainly. Please, join me for a drink in my study."
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