Denova and Patricia arrive at the manor just as the evening air began to settle into that quiet, golden haze that made everything look softer, warmer. She hadn't even stepped onto the main path when she saw him standing there, calm but unmistakably alert, like he had been waiting for her the whole day. The Duke.
He looked up as soon as he noticed her, eyes sharp, scanning her from head to toe, as if he already knew something had happened. "Denova… are you all right?" he asked, his voice steady but threaded with concern.
She gave him a small, reassuring smile, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm fine," she said lightly, though her dress still carried the faint, sticky trace of chocolate. "Lady Seraphine… accidentally spilled a drink on me. It's not a big deal, no burns, no scratches. I just want to change. It's a little uncomfortable, that's all."
The Duke took a step closer, and without a word, he reached for her arm, holding it gently but firmly. His fingers brushed her skin, checking carefully for any marks. Denova noticed the tension in his posture, the way his brows knitted ever so slightly. When he finally saw that her skin was unscathed, he let out a quiet sigh of relief, the kind that made her chest feel warmer for reasons she couldn't entirely explain.
"You must be more careful next time," he murmured, voice low, almost a growl. "I… I would never forgive myself if you were hurt."
Denova's lips curved into a soft smile, touched by the uncharacteristic display of emotion. "I'll keep that in mind," she replied, her tone casual but her heartbeat quickened at the closeness, at the intensity in his gaze.
The Duke straightened and gestured to the nearby servants. "Have her change into something comfortable. Quickly."
Denova inclined her head. "Thank you… for worrying," she said sincerely. Then, curiosity nudged her. "Have you already finished your work for the day?"
"I did," he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "About an hour ago. I've been waiting for you so we could have dinner together, with Lowen."
Denova nodded, feeling that little flutter of warmth again. "I'd like that," she murmured.
She took a step toward the manor's entrance, heels clicking softly against the stone pathway. But one foot caught awkwardly on the uneven surface. Time slowed for just a second as she lost her balance.
Before she could even think, strong arms wrapped around her, steadying her against the Duke's chest. She looked up at him, eyes wide, surprised, and then saw the faint trace of panic in his expression.
"I'm… I'm fine," she said softly, almost amused. "It's not like I'm dying. I just tripped."
His eyes didn't leave hers. "Denova," he said, voice low, tense. "Be more careful. Please."
She laughed softly, the sound almost musical in the quiet evening. "I will. I promise. I'll be down for dinner after I change."
He nodded, but his gaze lingered on her longer than necessary, as if willing her to stay a little longer in his sight. He's been feeling uncomfortable nowadays especially when he heard about the Prince being interested in Denova. Honestly, he's still not sure if he really can bare seeing Pillyse being in a relationship with someone else. Then, almost reluctantly, he released her, watching as she walked toward the manor, her dress brushing the steps, her hair catching the last light of the sunset.
Denova's heart beat a little faster not from the near stumble, not entirely, but from the way the Duke's concern wrapped around her like a cloak, warm and protective, making her wonder how one man could make her feel so safe and so exposed all at once.
And as she disappeared into the manor to change, he remained outside for a moment longer, silent, as though willing the evening to stretch just a little longer before reality, the mundane, the work, the responsibilities pulled him back in.
As soon as Denova disappeared into her room, the Duke's expression darkened, the flicker of fading sunlight casting sharper lines across his face. He stood perfectly still for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, jaw tight. The manor felt unusually quiet, almost too quiet, like it was holding its breath for what was about to happen.
"Kael," he said finally, his voice low, steady, and almost deadly calm. The kind of calm that made Kael's heart skip a beat even though he had seen the Duke in countless situations that would unnerve anyone. "Pull out every single investment we have with Count Evernight. Immediately."
Kael didn't flinch. He was used to the Duke's calculated fury, the way it simmered beneath the surface until it boiled over, but even he sensed the unusual intensity behind this command. "Understood, Your Grace," Kael replied, though he didn't need to ask why. The answer was obvious, though messy.
The Duke didn't usually act out of impulse, not with business, not with people, not with anyone. And yet, Denova's soft presence in the manor, her innocence, her proximity it seemed to have a way of bringing out his fire, forcing him to make decisions he would normally consider carefully, weigh carefully, debate internally for days.
He didn't want to hurt the Count.
Not really.
The man was old, stubborn, pompous, but he wasn't cruel… at least, not enough to deserve the full weight of the Duke's wrath. But the Count's daughter… Lady Seraphine… she had proven herself reckless, dangerous in her obsession. And if he didn't act now, he knew exactly what would happen.
Missing with him, crossing the Duke never ended well.
Chaos followed.
Families toppled.
Alliances crumbled.
And anyone foolish enough to underestimate him always regretted it.
Kael watched silently as the Duke's eyes flicked toward the staircase, where Denova's laughter from her room, soft, light, unguarded, drifted through the hall. The sight seemed to steel him even further, the tension in his shoulders tightening like coiled steel. Protecting her was no longer just a matter of courtesy or care, it had become imperative.
"Do it," the Duke said again, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. "Now."
Kael bowed, hiding the small shiver of anticipation. He knew the Duke well enough to understand that this wasn't just about business. This was personal. Every move he made now was calculated, precise, deliberate, a storm being drawn before the first lightning strike.
Somewhere above the quiet tension that had settled over the manor, Denova moved through her room completely unaware of the storm of decisions being made below. She hummed softly to herself, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she considered her dress, the soft fabric sliding smoothly through her fingers. Her mind flitted to dinner, and then, unbidden her thoughts drifted to the faint thrill that had still lingered in her chest from just moments ago.
The way the Duke had caught her when she tripped. The way his eyes had flared with sharp anxiety, the subtle tightening of his hands as he steadied her. She had never really thought he would act like that again, so attentive, so deliberate, so undeniably… caring.
A strange warmth bloomed inside her, an unexpected flutter that she didn't quite know how to name. Denova shook her head slightly, trying to push the thought away. It's just… concern. That's all, she told herself. She had no intention of being anything more than what they already were. There were boundaries, and she knew them well.
But even as she reasoned with herself, she couldn't deny the twist of something unfamiliar in her stomach—a mixture of surprise, amusement, and something softer, gentler that made her pulse quicken. The Duke, in all his composure and cold elegance, had cared so genuinely about her just now, in a way that no one else had.
And it had stirred something in her, quiet but undeniable. She caught herself smiling, a small, secret smile, as she sat on the edge of her bed and tugged the dress from its hanger. There was a strange comfort in it, an invisible tether to someone she had never considered more than a friend, a guardian of sorts, yet somehow always present in the quiet corners of her life.
Why does it feel like butterflies when he looks at me like that? she wondered, shaking her head again. The thought made her laugh softly. It's ridiculous. I don't want… anything more. But still… it's nice, isn't it? To feel wanted in this way?
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling that faint, fluttering warmth and letting herself linger in the thought for just a moment longer. There was a tension in the air that made her senses sharper, a subtle thrill that made her aware of the space between her and the Duke even though he was somewhere below, pacing, brooding, commanding the manor and everything in it.
And yet, she thought, almost absently, I don't need anything more. I just… I just like this feeling.
The corners of her lips curved upward again, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself imagine the Duke's eyes lingering on her like that, gentle but unwavering, and the steady certainty that came from someone who would act, protect, and care without question.
Her heart fluttered, not with desire, not yet….but with the simple, dizzying awareness that she mattered to him. And somehow, for the first time in a long while, that was enough.