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Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: The Royal Banquet and the Duchess's Gaze

Chapter 2: The Royal Banquet and the Duchess's Gaze

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The week leading up to the royal banquet was a masterclass in preparation, and not just of the diplomatic kind. Eleanor, now fully devoted and terrifyingly efficient, had become my intelligence agent. Her reports were detailed, almost surgical. Lady Seraphina Blackwood, Duchess of Northridge, was a woman of impeccable taste, a sharp mind, and a profound disdain for her husband, Duke Blackwood, whom she apparently referred to in private as "the walking, talking rock." She loved rare, spiced wines from the southern isles, had a soft spot for poetry—particularly the works of the reclusive bard Alistair Finch—and was fiercely protective of her two sons, both celebrated knights who were currently away on campaign. Most importantly, she was lonely. The system's analysis was blunt: *Target's primary emotional void is intellectual and romantic stimulation. High susceptibility to wit and forbidden charm.*

Perfect. I could do wit and forbidden charm in my sleep.

The night of the banquet arrived. The royal palace was a spectacle of light and opulence, its marble floors polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the glow of a thousand enchanted lanterns. Nobles swarmed the grand hall, a sea of silk, velvet, and glittering jewels. I was dressed in the finest Valerius black, a silver embroidery of our family crest—a soaring griffin—running down the chest. It was designed to be intimidating, but also alluring. A subtle declaration of power and virility.

As I made my entrance, a wave of hushed whispers followed me. Lucien Valerius, the reclusive heir, was finally making a public appearance. I played the part perfectly, offering a polite, almost bored nod to those who greeted me. My eyes, however, were scanning the crowd. And then, I found her.

Lady Seraphina Blackwood stood near the grand fireplace, a vision of mature elegance. She wore a deep crimson gown that clung to her generous curves in all the right ways, her dark hair piled high in an intricate style that exposed a long, graceful neck. She held a wine goblet but wasn't drinking, her gaze distant, a flicker of melancholy in her hazel eyes. She was older than Eleanor, perhaps in her mid-forties, but age had only honed her beauty, giving it an edge of sophisticated authority that made my blood sing. This was a queen, and I was about to become her favorite subject.

I activated a low-level system skill: *Seduction Aura (Passive)*. It wouldn't control her mind, but it would make my presence more compelling, my voice more resonant, my smile more disarming. It was the nudge, not the push.

I approached slowly, my movements deliberate. I didn't want to seem like a predator. I wanted to seem like an interesting anomaly.

"Duchess Blackwood," I said, my voice a low murmur as I reached her side. "A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Your reputation precedes you."

She turned, her eyes sharp as they assessed me. Up close, she was even more stunning. A few faint lines around her eyes only added to her character, telling a story of laughter and, if the system was right, recent sorrow.

"Lord Valerius," she replied, her tone cool and measured. "I was wondering if the young griffin would ever leave his nest. Your father speaks highly of your… potential."

The slight pause on 'potential' was a deliberate jab. A test. I smiled, a slow, confident curve of my lips. "Potential is a dangerous thing, Duchess. It promises much but delivers little. I prefer to focus on the present. For instance, the present company is far more interesting than the idle gossip of the court."

Her eyebrow arched. A flicker of interest. "Flattery, Lord Valerius? I thought you Valerius men were made of sterner stuff."

"Only when it's deserved," I countered smoothly. "And I find it hard to believe that a woman as vibrant as yourself is content to simply stand by the fire and watch the world burn. Unless, of course, you enjoy the warmth."

A small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. "You are bold. I'll give you that. Most young lords tremble in my presence."

"They mistake your strength for cruelty," I said, taking a small step closer. "I see it for what it is. A fire that keeps the wolves at bay. But even the strongest fire needs fuel. What fuels you, Duchess Seraphina?"

The use of her first name was a gamble, a breach of formal etiquette. But it paid off. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, the cool facade cracking just enough to let me see the woman beneath. She was intrigued.

"Poetry," she said, her voice softer now. "And wine. The two great comforts of a lonely woman."

"Then allow me to provide both," I said, gesturing towards a quieter alcove where a small table was laden with exotic bottles. "I happen to have acquired a cask of Sunstone Kiss, a vintage from the southern isles. They say it has notes of honey, spice, and regret."

A genuine laugh escaped her, a rich, melodious sound that made my cock twitch in my trousers. "Regret? An unusual flavor for a wine."

"Not for a wine worth drinking," I said, leading her to the alcove. I poured two glasses of the golden liquid, the scent of it filling the air between us. "The best things in life, Duchess, always have a hint of regret. A reminder of what we're risking by enjoying them."

I handed her a glass, my fingers brushing against hers. The contact was electric. She didn't pull away. She held my gaze, a silent battle of wills playing out in her hazel eyes. She was a married woman, a duchess, a mother. I was a young noble half her age, known for my reclusive nature. This was madness. But it was the kind of madness she craved.

"To regret, then," she toasted, a playful, dangerous glint in her eyes.

"To regret," I echoed, clinking my glass against hers.

We talked for what felt like hours, but was likely only one. We discussed poetry, politics, and the sheer absurdity of the royal court. I made her laugh, I challenged her intellect, and I never once let my gaze drop from hers, even when I was acutely aware of the swell of her breasts rising and falling with each breath. The *Seduction Aura* was working its magic, weaving a web of forbidden attraction around us.

"The problem with this court," she said, swirling the last of the wine in her glass, "is that it's all performance. Everyone is playing a role. No one is real."

"Then let's be real," I said, my voice dropping to a near whisper. I leaned in, my lips close to her ear. "I find you intoxicating, Duchess. I have since the moment I saw you. And I suspect, beneath the layers of protocol and propriety, you find me… intriguing."

She shivered, a barely perceptible tremor that ran through her entire body. She didn't answer, but she didn't move away. The air between us was thick with unspoken desire, a dangerous, thrilling tension.

"I should go," she whispered, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Before you do," I said, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. "I have a proposition for you. A private poetry reading. Just the two of us. At my estate. I have a first edition collection of Alistair Finch that I believe you would find… illuminating."

It was a bold, reckless invitation. A clear step across the line.

She stared at me, her breath hitched. The conflict was plain on her face. The dutiful duchess versus the lonely woman. The wife versus the seductress. For a moment, I thought she would refuse. But then, a slow, decisive smile spread across her lips.

"Lord Valerius," she said, her voice a husky whisper. "You are a dangerous man. Send me the details. I will… consider it."

She placed her empty glass on the table, her fingers lingering for a moment. Then, with a final, lingering look that promised everything, she turned and walked away, her crimson gown a beacon of my impending victory.

I watched her go, a triumphant smirk on my face. The system chimed in my head.

*—[Target: Lady Seraphina Blackwood – Interest Level: 85%.]—*

*—[New Objective: Secure private meeting. Reward: 5,000 System Points.]—*

I took a sip of the Sunstone Kiss. It tasted like victory. The game was afoot, and the Duchess of Northridge was the grand prize. I couldn't wait to unwrap her.

**To Be Continued!**

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