Julian did not need to hear the conversation to realize that something terrible has occurred. The rosy colour was slowly drained from Freya's cheeks, leaving her in a paralyzed state. Even though Julian and Freya were meters away from each other, he could imagine the whole turmoil in her heart. A heart beating so relentlessly that it felt like a hundred drums in the middle of a concert. She was a mixture of feelings whose description would never suffice.

"I am coming right now, madam. Need not worry." Freya said, making a pause after every word in order to reinforce her statement. She muttered her goodbye and turned to face Julian, in a sharp manner.

"This..." She pointed to her phone. "... is one more reason not to attend the Gala."

Julian's forehead creased under the pressure of her tone. Being raised in a diplomatic environment, he knew exactly when to keep his opinion to himself. And right then, when Freya's piercing almond eyes gazed at him as if he were responsible for all the tragedies of the world, he set aside his demand for subordination.

"Why don't you explain what happened on your way there?"

Freya's eyebrows rose incredulously. "You don't even know where I am about to go."

"That is right, but I don't mind." Julian showed her to the door and soon followed her. "Go to the garage and you will find a smaller car close to the entrance. Wait for me there. I have to announce John about our departure."

Freya nodded and left the building, telling the outdoor guards to remain in their position. Luckily for her, John had informed her about the location where she had her car parked. While walking towards the garage, she took a moment to brace up. Filling her lungs with pine-scented air calmed her down, but only slightly, because the gravity of the situation was impending. Madam Johnson had not provided her with much information, but a stinging sensation of intentional fire filled her with terror.

She eventually found the car, a modest-looking one with no fancy brand embedded on it. After a minute or two, Julian's arrival brought her back to the present state. He started the ignition and in a few moments, they were on the road.

"You'd better tell me where we are going. And an explanation would be nice, too." Julian addressed to her.

"St. John's secondary school. There has been a fire." Freya's mechanical response was a clear sign of self-control. She was on the verge of breaking down, but she could not let emotions cloud her judgment.

"A fire spread in the entire building? If so, why would your presence be requested?" Julian inquired, hearing Freya stamping her feet.

"It was my classroom that had been affected. Madam Johnson, one of my pupil's mother, called me. She didn't tell me much, only that the fire has been extinguished. I wish she had informed me earlier."

When the royal couple arrived, the fire department was just leaving. Freya rushed out of the car and eyed the principle talking to Paul's mother.

"Can you please fill me in?" She demanded, surprised that the principle's expression was neutral. He was an odd individual, she admitted that, but she could have never pictured him so unemotional. When being asked about the fire, he simply directed the question to Madam Johnson and left with no further explanations.

"I am terribly sorry, he is affected by this as much as we are. But he is somehow blaming you for all of this." She muttered under her breath, her gaze fixated on the concrete.

"I beg your pardon? How could this be my fault?" Freya inquired, pointing towards herself in a frantic manner.

"The fire was planned, ma'am. The police is about to arrive, but whoever is the culpable, the principle believes you owe the moral guilt. He says that your constant pressure on the Board and the usage of financial support upset a lot of people."

By the time Freya had comprehended the absurd explanation, Julian stepped out of his car and was by her side.

"Ladies, are there any concerns?" He wanted his question to fade away the tension between his future wife and everyone else, but his effect was the complete opposite. Madam Johnson didn't have time to acknowledge the Duke's presence, because Freya's retort inhibited her awe.

"Damn right I am concerned! Just because I have built an elitist classroom does not mean it should be trimmed down to ashes!" Freya's voice matched a soprano's, only much enraged.

Julian's hand rested on her back, trying to steady her spirit. His measure was slightly efficient, because she lowered her shoulders to a much calmer position. Fortunately for the present time, Madam Johnson finally noticed the Duke and bowed down as a sign of respect.

"Pardon me for the disrespect, Sire. I-I didn't..." Julian raised his hand in the tension-filled air and stopped her in mid-sentence. A much thorough analysis was required to mend the problem and that peasant-like demeanour did not suit the situation at all.

"There is no need to excuse yourself. It would be best if you leave." He said in a ruthless voice, his face bearing no revealing expression.

Miss Johnson stuttered a few apologizes and left, but Julian could not care less.

"Why did you make her leave? She was about to explain the reason for such an abominable accusation!" Freya yelled, her lips turning into a thin line.

"She could not have told us anything. A certain..." He paused for a few seconds, internally debating his choice of words. "... witty spirit is required to reveal such explanations."

Freya frowned, but oddly enough, her figure hardly changed. It was as if she switched off any shade of affection, leaving herself in a state of utter neutrality.

"There is no us involved. I am the moral culprit, it is my duty to figure out all the variables composing this forsaken situation."

A flower with so many thorns! Julian thought, trying once again to measure his words. Were the circumstances different, he would have adopted his usual strategy. Imposing himself over certain people in order to accomplish his plan. But in that particular moment, he seemed to question his every decision. He has never been so doubtful, he always knew what and how to do things. How could this secondary school teacher make such a difference?

"You cannot bear such a burden, Freya. You must realize that help is more efficient than dealing on your own with atrocities of this kind."

"If I accept your help, you will do me a favour that I have to return at some point in the future. And believe me, being indebted to the Duke himself is hardly a thing on my bucket list."

"Is this how you treat help? In terms of debts? It is not very wise of you."

"Says the man whose mistresses are notorious." Freya soon wished to withdraw her words, but it was too late. His jaw clenched, making him look slightly hollow-cheeked. His eyes turned navy blue, an observation quite impossible considering that it was night-time. Her choice of words bore no resemblance to the Oxford education she had received. She felt a shame so deep it almost consumed her.

"I am terribly sorry, milord. I had no right to judge your private actions."

Julian's mouth curved at its edges, but that smile was as dark as the night itself. A haunting, deadly smile that brought prickles of fear down Freya's spine.

"Your attempt to flatter me with a title you despise so much is vile even for you. I thought you had higher standards, milady."

A compromise, I need one really fast. Freya thought, compiling every possibility that might have been efficient. "I will accept your help, but I would kindly ask you to involve me as well. Please."

His jaw remained clenched, but he loosened up a little. He understood her method of reaching his good side, but he could not let that observation pass as an obvious one. "Of course. How could I ignore such a conscientious woman?"

Freya ignored his subtle sense of irony and turned her back on him, facing the police car that has just arrived. Two strong-built policemen jumped out of the car and headed towards the principle, who was carelessly smoking a cigarette. Freya could not hear their conversation, due to the loud buzzer, but taking a quick glance at the movement of their lips, she realized it was just a brief checkout.

"Let's go, Freya." Julian ordered, forcefully grabbing her arm. Consumed by the wrath still burning inside her, Freya humbly surrendered. By the time she had finally regained her composure, they were already on their way back to the Duchy.

Freya surely had a lot of things to tell Maeve. Only God knew how the snow-haired lady would respond to the peculiar series of events. Maybe she would laugh whole-heartedly at the odds, or she would add a tragic aura to the situation. But no, that could not possibly happen. Maeve was the brightest woman she had ever been acquainted with - she could never lose hope or succumb into a dreary state. Ever since their first meeting, in a flower shop two years ago, Freya had seen nothing but dimple-making smiles. She sometimes wondered what the old lady's story was, but she refused to invade her privacy. Even if they hardly discussed personal things, their relief after a five o'clock tea session was above all cures.

Freya's dreamy state was interrupted by Julian's low groan, one that resembled a lion's before attacking his pray. Ignoring the erotic side of the sound, she politely inquired about his discontent.

"Thank God I had the inspiration of leaving at the right moment! How could I be so reckless, for bloody sake? The newspapers will magnify my presence there and may come up with the most absurd explanations! I can imagine one of the titles on the front page: The Duke and his future wife were caught at the scene of an arson, how are they involved? Look who I am about to marry. The Samaritan vigilante!"

Julian yelled, his fingers ferociously clenching on the steering wheel. The sight of him was almost unbearable. His wrath disfigured him in a way that made Freya quiver. She was more and more aware of his unquestionable force each passing minute and wondered why his mistresses were not scared away. His alluring charms, Freya responded instantly, ashamed of her affinity for Julian.

"You can scarcely blame me, milord. You offered to drive me. I was not a damsel in distress, as you may imagine." She tried to maintain a neutral tone, but her voice slightly cracked at the end of her retort.

"Because I was raised to behave like a gentleman, milady."

"Well, your parents are not here to scold you for improper behaviour, so you shouldn't worry." Freya hastily said. Unfortunately for her, she witnessed the same ice-cold reaction when mentioning his mistresses.

"There is no need for you to remind me of my parents' absence."

Freya's apologize was barely a whisper. "I am sorry."

Julian focused on the road ahead of them and ignored her completely. She seemed to have forgotten her manners, which was thoroughly peculiar, considering her First-Class honours at Oxford University. Maybe a degree does not guarantee diplomacy. Freya thought as she became more and more aware of her embarrassment. Understanding his intention of renouncing the conversation, Freya remembered Maeve and decided to call her. Despite the late hour, she was aware of Maeve's insomnia and believed a call would not bother her. Would it not? The fresh exchange of retorts surely managed to enhance Freya's hesitation.

"Hello, darling, how was dinner?" A soft, melodious voice answered. Freya felt a sudden relief when hearing her friend's question, but soon the burden of the current situation overwhelmed her again.

"Hypocritical, as you may have guessed. But that was the least of my worries." The future Duchess was about to explain herself, but her voice cracked and a tear set uncomfortably on her cheek. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her rebellious heartbeat, but failed miserably. An avalanche of tears followed the first one and thereupon, the upper part of her dress was moist.

"I have just returned... from school. There has been an arson and... the principle... is blaming me." Freya tasted the salty tears and vainly wiped them away, breathing as if she were in labour. God, why is this happening?

"How is this your fault, darling? Listen to me. You are among the best teachers I have ever encountered and no one, especially that contemptible creature, should question your abilities. Calm down and give me his address, I will take care of him!"

Freya giggled at Maeve's menacing attempt, but the flicker of laughter soon vanished into thin air, making room for a gloomy spirit that spread through every fiber of her body. She remained silent for a couple of seconds, hearing Maeve's reassuring but pointless words in the background. She closed her rather droopy eyes and lowered her phone, resting it on her right thigh. She suddenly felt a soothing heat on her left thigh and quivered at the thought of Julian's hand slightly squeezing her flesh. Instinctively, she covered his palm with her own, returning the same delightful pressure. How could a stranger's touch be more assuasive than my best friend's words? As if receiving a shower as cold as the piercing ice of Alaska, she withdrew her hand and resumed her phone call.

"Yes, you are probably right. I think I will reschedule the volunteering day at the Center. I need to focus on this issue, I hope that does not interfere with your plans." Freya said, brushing off Julian's alluring touch from her already troubled thoughts.

"Don't be such an ankle-biter, darling! I have no plans, I am a retired old lady who thinks a dog chewing on a bone is fascinating. Trust me, there is no need to divert your attention. Call me when you feel at ease. Good night!"

Freya uttered her goodbye and was surprised to recognize the dashing forest surrounding the Duchy. "Are we back already?" She asked, filled with gratitude for the comfortable bed awaiting her.

Julian cleared his throat as if he was about to speak up, but he let silence master his thoughts. He shut down the engine and stepped out of the car, opening the door from the passenger's side. Standing up, Freya felt a stinging nausea building up inside her. Losing her balance, she leaned forward, but Julian's manly, yet gentle hands circled around her waist and steadied her. I am getting too used to this feeling! She complained internally, breathing his musky cologne.

"We should stop having unnecessary contact." She muttered a barely audible suggestion, but loud enough for him to hear.

"Alright, milady." He smirked arrogantly and removed his hands, taking a small step back. His intention was never to let her fall, obviously, but she had to become accustomed to his touch for her future duty involved pleasing him in every possible way. She clung onto him, gripping the collar of his perfectly-neat shirt. Freya's recently closed eyes opened, but remained fixated on the knot of his crimson tie. How could she lift her gaze when she felt at such a loss for air?

"Is this an Eldredge knot, milord?" She let out a husky question, her mind a chaotic nest of insecurities and confusion.

His simper deepened and his response resembled a serpent's reaction to a mice it had captured. "Such admirable skills to deviate one's attention, milady. Yes, indeed it is."

Freya finally regained her composure and stepped away from his devilishly seductive body. A swirl of emotions was rushing through her oxygen-filled blood. She felt as if her ribcage was about to explode due to her heart pounding loudly. Because of such a tears-bringing past, she found herself unable to socialize with people, let alone with men. Her connection to the male specimens was limited to the little boys who were a minority in her secondary school classes. And on top of that, she had never encountered such a breath-taking man.

If she were to exclude Julian's looks, she would have still remained with her mouth slightly agape. He was a presence to be fascinated with, his authority being indeed a trait of his own, not a merit of his title. Even though his high intellect and exhaustive culture were partial products of his upbringing, the way he used them was particular. He somehow managed to infiltrate his unconventional thoughts in a far too conformist world. Freya, being herself an outcast, felt an intricate desire to personally understand his judgments. Unfortunately, her duty could not possibly extend to such an intimate knowledge of his most inner reasoning. I keep forgetting my foisted humility and self-sufficiency. Freya's conscience replied disdainfully.

"I suppose the dinner has finished. May I return to my room?" Freya feebly inquired.

"Your error is delightful! Milady, it is our room." Julian grinned, revealing a set of perfectly-white teeth.

It was Freya's turn to clench her fists, her nails digging into the flesh of her rather sweaty palms. "I thought future husband and wife ought to sleep in different rooms until the day of marriage. You live in a formalist society, doesn't this rule apply to you?" She cringed when pronouncing the word "wife", but managed to finish her vexed question.

Julian's mouth curved until it resembled a crescent. "We do not live in the 18th century anymore. Who is going to verify if we share a bedroom or not?" Freya could sense the amusement in the oceans of his eyes, but decided to ignore it.

"God, can you be more infuriating?" Freya's rhetorical question lingered in the tension-filled air. "Fine, just let me go to sleep! Unless I have another Duchess duty I must conform to." The sarcasm dripping from her tongue made the Duke quiver with anticipation. Such a delightful source of entertainment! Julian inwardly thought, his smirk never abandoning his lips.

"In the middle of the night? No, darling. Tomorrow I will have your clothes moved in, along with any other personal belonging. I will also discuss the arson with my informer and we'll see what can be done."

Freya sighed, in surrender to the sleepy state she found herself in. Leaving Julian behind, she walked the aisle towards the entrance and was soon accompanied by John, who opened the door while greeting her in the most humble manner.

"Don't you ever take a rest?" Freya inquired, her tone unintentionally harsh.

John blinked a couple of times, uncertain of the proper way to approach the future Duchess. Freya, envisioning the remnants of her once perfectly-trained manners, apologized for the recent tantrum and smiled reassuringly.

"I am terribly sorry, John, my exhaustion is finally speaking up. You must be as tired as I am, why don't you go to sleep?"

John's gaze lowered to the point where his neck was barely visible. "I must follow the Duke at all costs, fulfilling his demands regardless of any occasion."

Freya could feel his complex of inferiority and her respect for such a devoted man increased significantly. A person who was able to renounce his needs and serve someone with such dignity and grace was of a greater merit than anyone else.

"What about my desires?"

The butler fumbled shamefully, trying to assure Freya of his constant loyalty. She sensed his uneasiness and smiled tenderly, putting her hand over his shoulder. "My only desire from now on is for you to relax on a more frequent basis. No one, especially my future husband, should deny you this right." Pronouncing the word "husband" brought the same acid taste in her mouth, and the nausea settled again, even more stubbornly than before.

"Let me show you the bedroom, milady."

A few minutes later, Freya stood before an enormous marbled bathtub, scanning the rest of the salle de bain with hungry eyes. She imagined herself covered in essential oils, the water dripping from her animated body, a glass of red wine reigning haughtily in her hand. Such a divine fantasy!

"It is a fantasy, isn't it?" Julian's bewitching voice echoed from behind her. She froze instantly, realizing that her thought materialized into audible words. If my mouth unconsciously speaks, what else am I going to say and not notice it? Freya asked herself, aware of Julian's ability to find veiled interpretations into every word.

Freya mumbled a whispery approval, but refused to face him. Even though she was a woman whose willpower could move mountains, she could not meet his soul-seeking gaze. Falling under his scrutiny has been challenging, for her body was unable to accommodate to such a heart-throbbing tension. Her reaction towards him was not a cliché at all - her knees would never weaken at the sight of his perfectly-sculpted muscles. It was his mind that enticed her, his words to which she could listen endlessly, his knowledgeable authority. Despite not seeing each other eye to eye, there was a respect that could not match any arousing feelings.

Strangely enough, Julian's consideration for her abilities resembled her admiration. He knew that her presence would be a tremendous asset, simply for the fact that he despised taking care of social matters. This was to be Freya's first obligation, to render a new face to the whole notion of philanthropy. Her conaissance of the political issues was, on the other hand, strictly limited, if not forbidden. Not bearing the knowledge required to perceive such notions correctly and objectively, she would stir professional relations to the point where everyone would question Julian's dominant attitude. A leash was mandatory, for her vision of social justice was perilous for royal business.

Noticing that Freya was mesmerized by the subtle details of the bathroom, he left without further explanations. After his departure, Freya sighed in relief, her breath finally escaping her rose-tinted lips. Fifteen minutes later, she finished her bath and contemplated whether she should remain in her bath gown. She remembered her clothes were due to be transferred tomorrow and groaned in frustration. "Damn!" She muttered under her breath, fidgeting like an impatient child. In the heat of the moment, she neglected the lingerie spread enchantingly on the bed. When she finally noticed it, she felt at war with herself, oscillating between admiration for the seductively-laced piece of art and anger at Julian for objectifying her. As if the Almighty has chosen to render her state a more unnerving aura, she heard the Duke's low chuckle reverberating in the room.

She turned on her heels and was surprised to notice that he almost looked... human. Sweatpants and a T-shirt were certainly out of Freya's scenario. She had always imagined Julian in a formal attire regardless of any occasion, just like the 18th century royals whose night gowns were embedded with jewelry and threaded in gold.

"Am I that entertaining to catch your gaze in such a compelling manner?" Julian's amusement lit up his face, his cerulean eyes reveling at the soft fabric of silk clinging to Freya's feminine curves.

Freya crossed her arms, her movement slightly lifting her breasts. Julian's breath caught in his throat, his Adam apple bobbing hungrily. Business, it is business! He snapped out of his mesmerized state and ruffled his hair in an attempt to scatter away the tension in his groin. Damn this woman! He exclaimed internally, his jaw clenching and his muscles bulging from underneath his T-shirt.

Freya observed his shifting emotions, but their cause remained unknown. "Don't flatter yourself, milord. I imagined you would objectify me, but for bloody sake, I would look like a porn star in that lingerie!" She threw her hands in the air, involuntarily bringing attention to her bosoms.

Julian growled and admitted to himself that seeing her in lace would shatter his reasoning to pieces. "You are right about the lingerie and the impropriety of sleeping together. Therefore, you will spend the night alone." His voice steeled, nevertheless his brisk pulse was persistent.

Freya blinked a couple of times, questioning the alteration of his demeanour. How could a man's emotions shift so unexpectedly? She intricately thought, failing to assume anything. She nodded obediently. Her surrender to his utterly abrupt decision was the awaited signal for his departure. He left the room like a storm ravaging a helpless city, the air filling with his musky cologne. Freya breathed in deeply, his scent lingering long after he was gone.

A flashback of her mom's obsession for Latin ignited her mind. She fell asleep at the remembrance of the quote Anna used to repeat incessantly. Dum spiro spero. While there is life, there is hope.