The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 89: A Fated Lover

Chapter 89: A Fated Lover

Damien strode purposefully through the well-lit expanse of his grand mansion, his face wearing an air of urgency and determination. It was as if an ominous shroud had descended upon him, casting his entire being in an aura of brooding intensity. His footsteps, though weighty, reverberated like the thunderous march of a furious giant, and his mere presence seemed to drain vitality from the very space around him.

Within the pristine hall, a group of maids diligently attended to their cleaning tasks, their movements now resembling startled insects scurrying in response to an unexpected disturbance. It had been some time since they had witnessed their master in such a sour mood, and they understood all too well the unspoken decree: avoid any interaction that might provoke his anger.

A hushed murmur of trepidation wafted through the ranks of the servants, a subtle but palpable reminder of the foreboding atmosphere that had settled upon the mansion.

"What could be troubling His Grace? Do you suppose something unfortunate has occurred?"

"He did spend the entire day in Lady Rosalie’s chambers... Could there have been some disagreement?"

Fully aware of the discreet murmurs and conjectures circulating among his staff, Damien chose to dismiss them, hastening his stride until he reached his bedroom’s entrance and emphatically closed the door with a resounding, irritated thud.

Inside, he leaned against the imposing wooden door, his face flushed and ablaze, both hands covering it as he released a protracted, exasperated sigh.

"Why did I act that way? Was I out of my mind? What possessed me to touch her lips so impulsively? And that cheesy line from the book... She did not utter a single word afterward... I must be an imbecile. Utterly unhinged."

The turbulent currents of his inner turmoil were briefly interrupted by a gentle knock on the door, followed by the somewhat timid voice of "Your Grace?"

Startled, the duke reluctantly swung open the door, greeted by Richard’s visibly distressed expression. The butler offered his master an uncertain smile while clutching a petite beige envelope with trembling hands.

"What is the matter, Richard?"

Richard carefully placed the envelope into Damien’s outstretched hands and proceeded to explain,

"Your Grace, a letter from Lady Cecilia Bennett has arrived. She extends an invitation for both Lady Rosalie and yourself to attend the initial fitting of your wedding attire. It appears that His Highness the Crown Prince has taken it upon himself to cover the expenses as a wedding gift."

Damien ran his slender fingers through his ebony hair, sweeping it back, then gazed once more at the envelope held in his right hand before exhaling a thoughtful sigh.

"A wedding gift, huh?"

***

Rosalie rested her hands on her knees, her fingers restlessly toying with her own fingernails, much like an anxious child. Since that memorable evening when Damien had stayed in her room until midnight, silently engrossed in books and inadvertently playing the role of her makeshift pillow, he had not made a single visit as his days were now consumed by a whirlwind of military and wedding preparations.

A sense of guilt gnawed at her for not being able to lend him a hand, yet there was an undercurrent of secret relief as well – it provided her with a valid excuse to keep her distance. She still grappled with how to respond to his words from that night. Over the past four days, she had diligently scrutinized every gesture and utterance of his in hopes of either confirming or debunking her assumptions, yet a definitive conclusion remained elusive.

Or, perhaps, she simply was not ready to draw one.

Aurora, deeply engrossed in the delicate task of arranging her lady’s resplendent hair, leaned in closer and whispered, her voice carrying a subtle undertone of unexpected irritation,

"My Lady, are you entirely certain it is wise to part with all your candy like this?"

Lady Ashter lifted her head and directed her gaze toward the mirror, her eyes shifting to the sight of the imposing figure of Sir Logan, who had been merrily indulging in the contents of a generously-sized pink carton box filled with sweets. Sporting a radiant smile, she closed her eyes momentarily and nodded,

"His Grace has been sending these sweets for the past four days. There is no way I could possibly consume them all by myself. Sir Logan has quite the sweet tooth, so I think it is only fair to share them with him."

Aurora could not suppress a somewhat disapproving grimace, though it swiftly transformed into an expression of bubbling enthusiasm as she resumed her task of adorning her lady’s hair.

"So, My Lady, are you feeling excited? Today marks the first fitting for your wedding gown! What sort of design do you think Lady Bennett might select for you?"

Rosalie glanced down at her delicate hands, her response casual as she nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders.

"I am not entirely certain... Does it really matter?"

A discerning sensitivity led Aurora to catch the faint undertone of melancholy in Rosalie’s words. She paused, her gaze shifting to Lady Ashter’s reflection, her brow furrowing with concern.

"Are you feeling upset, Lady Rosalie? Is it because His Grace must depart shortly after the ceremony?"

After a momentary pause, Rosalie once again lifted her head and inquired with a measured tone,

"Aurora, do you believe that two individuals destined to cross paths and fall in love will inevitably do so, regardless of circumstances?"

Aurora set the hairbrush aside, her slender brows arching inquisitively.

"What do you mean, My Lady?"

"What if someone is destined to fall in love with another, but at present, their affections lie elsewhere? Do you think their feelings will invariably gravitate toward their destined love, regardless of external factors?"

The unexpected question caught the maid off-guard. However, she had no time to even try to formulate a response as the room resonated with a forceful knock on the door, announcing the arrival of another maid.

"My apologies for the interruption, My Lady, but the carriage has been prepared and is ready for departure."

Rosalie expressed her gratitude to the maid and rose from her seat, bestowing upon Aurora a somewhat melancholic smile.

"Thank you for your assistance, Aurora. Let’s go now, Sir Logan. We should not make His Grace wait."

Lady Ashter exited the room, escorted by her guardian knight while Aurora remained behind, standing solitary before the vanity mirror, her vacant gaze locked onto the closed bedroom door, and her thoughts pondering the last words uttered by her lady.

"A fated lover... Could there truly be anyone other than you, Lady Rosalie?"