The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 90: Fear and Respect

Chapter 90: Fear and Respect

Upon opening the door to Lady Bennett’s boutique, Rosalie was met with a cheery "Good morning!" from a young man she had not encountered in the store before. Of average stature, he possessed a cascade of long blonde hair gathered neatly behind his neck. His attire consisted of a sleek black three-piece suit, emblazoned with the initials CB atop the breast pocket, a clear indicator of its exclusive design by none other than the shop’s owner.

With a radiant, almost dazzling, smile that graced his youthful visage, the gentleman ushered Lady Ashter into the establishment, assisted her in removing her coat, and graciously invited her to take a seat upon a plush couch designated for waiting customers.

"My name is Benjamin, My Lady, I am Lady Cecilia’s apprentice. It’s a genuine pleasure to make your acquaintance! Your beauty has been the subject of numerous whispers, but they hardly did you justice. You are far more exquisite than words can ever capture!"

The effusive flattery momentarily caught Rosalie off guard, but she chose to graciously accept it with a polite smile, recognizing the young man’s sincere effort to make her feel somewhat special.

Still wearing a slightly awkward but appreciative smile, Rosalie briefly scanned the boutique but found no sign of Damien. She had been informed that he would meet her directly at the boutique, yet it seemed she had arrived ahead of him.

At that moment, the girl discerned the delicate click of heeled shoes and observed Lady Bennett emerging from the adjacent room, located near the counter, her immaculate appearance radiated the usual flawless perfection. Instinctively, Rosalie rose from her seat, prepared to extend a greeting. However, Lady Cecilia merely acknowledged Rosalie’s presence with a brief nod and delivered her words in a somewhat indifferent tone.

"Good morning, Lady Rosalie. I trust you have already met my new assistant, Mr. Weston. Today, he will be assisting me with the fitting. Benjamin, please guide Lady Ashter to the fitting room."

While Rosalie had grown accustomed to such unwarranted coldness, Cecilia’s remark still managed to catch her somewhat off-guard.

’I thought he was meant to assist her with Damien; why is she assigning him to accompany me to the fitting room? Is this yet another one of her schemes to humiliate me?’

As she completed this thought, the young man appeared right in front of her, extending his gloved hand, that same radiant smile gracing his face.

"Allow me, My Lady; the dressing room is this way."

Lady Ashter was on the verge of accepting his hand when she suddenly noticed Benjamin’s expression darken unexpectedly. His features contorted, subtly revealing a trace of fear as his once-bright eyes shifted beyond the girl’s head. Then, she felt two sturdy arms gently encircle her shoulders, drawing her away from the assistant, as a familiar low voice cascaded over the top of her head.

"What in the world is happening here?"

Rosalie turned her head and beheld both Damien and Logan looming directly behind her. Their somber faces exuded an almost ominous presence, their piercing gazes firmly fixed upon Lady Bennett.

"Lady Bennett, could you kindly clarify why this individual is attending to Lady Rosalie in your stead?"

The woman hurried to the scene, her face betraying a nervous demeanor. She cast a swift glance at Rosalie, who stood protected at the side of the Grand Duke, and made an attempt to explain.

"Your Grace, it is merely a misunderstanding. You see, I am still occupied with preparations, so I asked Mr. Weston to escort Lady Ashter to the fitting room."

Her explanation, however, appeared to ignite Damien’s anger even further. He narrowed his resplendent golden eyes and nearly hissed,

"His Highness the Crown Prince personally reserved your services for the entire day, and yet, you persist in treating your most esteemed customers with blatant disrespect."

Lady Bennett’s distress was unmistakable; her voice quivered with anxiety as she replied,

"Your Grace, I assure you, I had no intention of showing any disrespect––"

"Enough. This is not the first time I have observed you treating Lady Ashter as if she were a lowly customer. Apologize to her, or I will ensure that your prestigious business meets its demise in the blink of an eye."

A heavy silence descended upon the entire store, the tension among those present nearly tangible. Rosalie could not help but feel a sense of unease at Damien’s abrupt change in demeanor. It had been some time since she had witnessed him react in such a stern, cold manner, and each time she did, a chill ran down her spine. The man could truly transform into a real formidable beast.

Unwilling to further provoke the Duke’s ire, Lady Bennett made a prudent choice by humbling herself, even if it meant swallowing the invisible lump of pride lodged inside her throat. She took a hesitant step toward Lady Ashter, offering her a gracious bow.

"Lady Rosalie, please accept my heartfelt apology for every instance in which I may have displayed the slightest hint of disrespect. I am truly ashamed of my actions and deeply regret them."

"Well..."

Rosalie gazed at the woman’s trembling hands, clasped in a gesture of contrition, and experienced a peculiar blend of emotions—sadness and relief. She understood that Lady Bennett’s apology might still lack sincerity, yet she also recognized that refusing it would offer her no internal satisfaction.

"...I accept your apology, Lady Bennett. Now, let us proceed with the fitting. Neither of us wishes to waste each other’s time, correct?"

***

Rosalie turned her gaze toward the tall, ornate mirror, framed in opulent golden frame. Her deep gray eyes fixated on the wedding dress, which, although still incomplete, radiated an aura of unfathomable luxury and beauty. What intrigued Lady Ashter the most, however, was the fabric’s hue—a delicate white with a subtle, almost imperceptible pinkish undertone. It was the perfect shade to complement the porcelain grace of Rosalie’s skin.

’Even though she clearly despises me, she still cannot help but be professional about every design she makes.’

Cecilia, perhaps still unsettled by Damien’s earlier reaction, treated Rosalie with marked caution and reverence. At times, it appeared as though she hesitated even to touch her, further heightening the prevailing awkwardness between them.

Such a shift in treatment was not something Rosalie could fully relish. The former Rosalie might have reveled in it, perhaps even called it ’revenge.’ However, the present Rosalie felt only a disconcerting blend of fear—a fear catalyzed by the potent presence of the Grand Duke who stood steadfastly behind her.

’Being feared differs from being respected. While Damien may instill fear, no one can dispute the profound respect he has earned through his contributions to the Empire. However, in my case... People merely feign kindness to avoid incurring the Duke’s wrath. That is not what I desire. I want everyone to truly appreciate the genuine Rosalie Ashter. I want them to recognize her as deserving of authentic respect and admiration.’

"My Lady, if you’ll pardon me, I need to retrieve more pins from storage."

With a polite bow, Lady Bennett excused herself, leaving Rosalie in a somewhat awkward silence. She turned her full attention back to the mirror when she suddenly heard a soft tap from the opposite wall, which separated her fitting room from Damien’s, accompanied by the Duke’s low, hushed voice.

"Lady Rosalie?"

"Your Grace?"

"How do you find your dress?"

"It is truly beautiful, Your Grace. And what about your own attire?"

Damien momentarily hesitated, his response delivered now in a softer tone,

"I am certain my appearance will pale in comparison to yours, regardless of what I wear."

Rosalie felt her heart race once more, its beating sound echoing in her ears. Her cheeks flushed inexplicably as she found herself yet again on the receiving end of sweet words not intended for her. It left her in a state of confusion, clouding her judgment, and quickening her heart for someone who could never be hers.

In the end, all she could muster in response to her fiancé was an awkward chuckle. Thankfully, the sudden return of Lady Bennett spared her from having to feign further pretense.

***

"Are you feeling tired, Lady Rosalie?"

By the time the fitting was eventually completed, darkness had enveloped the world outside. Both Damien and Rosalie, after spending hours in Cecilia’s fitting rooms, felt profound exhaustion settling in. However, their most immediate concern was the steadily intensifying pangs of hunger.

Before Lady Ashter could formulate a reply, her stomach emitted an audible rumble. In response, the Duke stifled a laugh and nodded in understanding.

"It seems we have an emergency on our hands. Let’s dine at a restaurant nearby. We can reach it within a couple of minutes on foot."

Damien’s estimations had proven accurate and after just a brief stroll, Rosalie spotted a modest restaurant-like establishment directly ahead of them. However, their march toward it was abruptly halted as the Duke came to a sudden stop, his deep golden eyes locked onto something to his left.

"Your Grace? What is it?"

Receiving no immediate response, Rosalie attempted to follow Damien’s gaze with her own, raising an inquisitive eyebrow when she observed a familiar petite figure cloaked in black lurking in the deserted evening streets of the Capital.

’Could that be... Laith?’

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