xxvii.

Two months and a few days later,
Mid June, 1789,

THE BIRD CHIRPS WERE LIKE BURSTS OF DELIGHT to the Duchess' ears as she awoke that morning in her spacious chambers, the soft and vast bed beneath her body grounding her as she sat up and gazed at the morning scape out of her wide windows.

The maids, having just drawn the curtains with an elaborate flair, were busy tying them to the sides with tasseled tie offs, as the cool wind blew in through the now open windows, caressing her grace's nightgown clad skin and threading through her open hair.

She rubbed her bare feet together, feeling the lavender coloured silk bedsheets rub against her skin. Lately, the Duchess had taken to refurnishing the major rooms in the estate—or rather—the Château de la Benné. Having originally—upon her arrival more than two months ago—seen the drab colors and furnishings the estate sported, the newly wedded Duchess had taken it upon herself to make the changes.

As a result, her own private chambers were clad in the serene yet beautiful colors that emerged from a dark purple softening after collisions with varying amounts of cream whites. Ever shade of lavender could be found in the chambers, and even the furniture in the room had been made to match.

The estate staff—previously dormant creatures—had been roped into the change as though caught in a tornado, laying their years of dormancy in the originally one person inhabited chateau, behind.

There were likely whispers amongst the staff of their new mistress' meticulous ways, and her obsession with such furious change. But tasks emerge rapidly when one grapples at thin air for distraction, and her grace, Lady Isadora Bennett, had come to crave distraction like she craved air to survive.

Isadora made to scoot over to the side of the bed, when suddenly a pitter patter of feet sounded and her son burst into the room—his curly hair messy and his sky blue eyes sparkling with happiness.

Relief poured over Isa then, before Archie climbed onto her side of the bed and enveloped her into a hug that she reciprocated, holding him longer than she had to.

Lately, Isa had imagined to have seen a certain lulling in Archie's brightness. There were days where he would go quiet and engage himself indoors with no excitement for any of the outdoor activities Isadora suggested, and lately those days had begun to become frequent in number.

The estate had it's own stables packed with fifteen prized horses of the Duke's, and beautiful gardens wrapping all around the grounds where Archie could spend hours playing gardening. Everything her son liked to do was here, every activity he had wanted, was here. Yet still, there was something missing. Always that painful gap in between pure happiness and the present self-a specifically shaped gap that refused to be crossed and demanded to be filled.

"How are you today, sweetheart?" Isa managed, placing a kiss into his hair as she met eyes with Lucy, who had followed Archie into the room and now stood to a side, returning Isa's smile.

He had already been dressed for the day, courtesy of Lucy, and was in high spirits.

"You woke up early today, didn't you?" Isa hummed, "I usually find you still snoring even after Lucy has had the breakfast table set."

Archie giggled against her chest, shaking his head in defiance. "No, I don't snore mama!"

"Don't you?" Isadora teased, brushing his hair with her fingers and removing strands from falling into his eyes as she looked at him.

"I have quite enjoyed myself letting the gardener, and all visitors, know that we have recently taken a mighty dragon to be part of the family."

Archie turned crimson as he adamantly shook his head and bit his lip to hide his laughter.

Isa leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Now, make yourself busy while mama changes, then we shall have breakfast together, all right?"

He nodded with determination, before embracing her one last time and sprinting off out of the room. Lucy made to follow, but Isa stopped her as one maid in the room closed the door behind him and another dragged the lilac patterned folding screen closer to the bed. Isadora slipped behind it, her shoulders and head peeking out as she looked at Lucy's still form, while the maid at her side helped her undress.

"Lucy, did you sleep alright? How are your headaches?"

Her maid's increasingly growing, and frequent, headaches had also become a part of Isa's concerns lately. Since the ailment had started, Isadora had had the maid go through two different physicians and their treatments, yet still she doubted the changes. Lucy was presently on medication and treatment from the second physician, who had sworn that changes will become visible after three months of straight use of his prescriptions and treatment.

The maid was barely nineteen yet, and the intensity of her ailment shocked and worried Isadora to her core. It had begun a few weeks after her marriage to the Duke, and Isa only remembered the girl's shrill screams in the dead of the night, echoing throughout the estate.

She was dreadfully young to be in so much physical pain, and Isadora was too reliant on her to not spend every waking moment being concerned for her well being.

"I'm alright, your grace," Lucy offered, "Truly. I slept well last night."

"Without pain, I hope?" Isa put her arms through her dress for the day and the maid at her side brought it down and adjusted it on her body, deft fingers beginning to working at the back of the dress, tying it up.

"Because if there's even the slightest of pain, I need you to tell me. I won't be giving in to these physicians' words if none of what they say or do is working."

Lucy nodded. "I understand, your grace. Last night was good for me. I won't hide any pain from you, I promise."

"Good," Isa managed, then turning over her shoulder, she addressed the maid at her side. "You didn't tighten my corset enough."

The maid, apologetic, hastily began her attentions at tightening the corset strings, but since the dress was already on, there wasn't enough room to fix the corset from the back opening of the dress.

Isadora sighed, trying to hold in her frustration. After Lucy's ailment, she had lessened the girl's tasks significantly, and as a result she was being dressed by maids of the estate staff—women who seemed to have never waited on a lady before.

"Don't exhaust yourself running after Archie, alright?" Isadora turned her attention to Lucy. "Let him be, he will be fine. Just please make sure they have set the breakfast table properly."

Lucy's duties being reduced came with her responsibility of making sure the estate staff were doing things just as Isadora had instructed them to do, and regardless of the hostility from the staff that came with such a job, Lucy seemed to manage it just fine.

"Yes, your grace," And with that the girl curtseyed and exited the chambers, leaving Isadora to plough through her frustrations at the dismantling of her morning rituals on account of the rusty maids.

An hour or so later, Isadora was dressed and ready for the day as she made her appearance in the main hall, the footmen and servants in midst still of the refurnishing orders she had given them, stepped aside to let her pass through corridors and hallways, each of them moving one item of furniture or the other and still managing to bow for her.

The estate wasn't quite in disarray as a result of her refurnishing plans, for the Duchess had made it her mission to only tackle three rooms at once, and only upon the completion of three were the staff to move forward with three more. Regardless, the Duke of Basingstoke, had more often than not refused to understand the simple arrangement in bouts of his sporadic frustrations.

Isa brushed her hands over the bodice of her peach gown, the entire thing was hand embroidered with gorgeous intricately tiny vines and flower detailing all over the layered skirts, bodice and the long sleeves. She had bought the dress for a pretty penny at the one of the markets in the town of Basingstoke a few weeks ago. A very elderly woman owing the shop had famously hand stitched and labored over the dress for two years straight, and Isa remembered her being upset at having to part with it, regardless of the hefty sum Isadora had given in return. Her square neckline sported an arrangement of real pearls hugging the base of her neck and matching ones clasped at her ears.

Luxury had become as familiar to Isadora as breathing. She understood the value of it like she hadn't ever before, and for a while after she had signed her marriage papers with a few added clauses of her own, she had spent her new found accessibility to luxury all on Archie. She had filled his separate chamber with elaborate toys designed by eccentric toymakers with shop outlets in Basingstoke, she had filled his wardrobe with all manner of suits and refined day to day clothes, she had had an entire section of the estate gardens partitioned where her son and herself could plant whatever and in however order that they wished and she had filled up an entire cabinet in the gardener's shed on the estate grounds with multitudes of exotic and expensive seeds for flowers as well as fruits and vegetables, for that purpose.

Aside from all that she had separated amounts of her allowance from her husband each month for Archie's future. Still, she had had so much to spare. Still the luxury of money refused to end, and so with a hesitant breath she had started spending some of it on herself too. Her wardrobe, her exotic perfumes imported into town from overseas, the plethora of a jewelry collection that she had managed to start.

Isadora, as the new Duchess of Basingstoke, had essentially polished her life—scrubbed it as bright as she could, adorned it with all sorts of glittering and valuable gems, that it had helped choke her selfish heart out. Isa had had a strange epiphany once after her marriage, she had assumed if the gems at her neck were heavier, than she could succeed in stifling the cries of her heart. And it had worked, Mon Dieu, it had worked. But sometimes at night—when she took her gems off and slipped into her silk nightgown—the lack of weight of the jewelry on her neck made her heart thrash out as though it was a wild animal.

In those moments she yearned for the someone she had left behind. In those moments she felt his ghost lips against hers, his tongue against hers, his hands holding her. She saw his dark bronze face, lit up by the flames of the candles burning at her dresser in the darkness of the night. She saw his chocolate orbs staring into hers. Mon Dieu, the image of the King of Angria was seared onto the inside of Isadora's eyelids, and at night he infiltrated her even after the daylight managed to keep him away. At night, his memories always returned to her. Him leaning against his palace wall, clad in a dark suit, her ribbon tied around his fingers and Archie's toy in his hand.

Archie had held out hope for the King's visit for a while. He had spent hours upon hours outside, or watching the main entrance on the estate grounds through any window on the premises he happened to be by. He had held out hope for more than a month, after which he had given up. Isadora's attempts at filling his chambers with new and exotic toys had slowly helped, and so had all the other things she had procured for him.

Like her, Archie too needed distractions, and despite her tortured condition at nights, she was certain that both herself and her son would soon make it out of the darkness fully. Time asked for too much, but Isa was willing to give it however many hours and months it required.

She approached the dining hall, glad to see the servers and footmen all at work displaying breakfast dishes at the table and making sure there was enough cutlery. Jugs of iced fruit drinks were brought in, as Lucy kept watch over it all. Isadora turned her neck to peer through one of the large windows in the dining hall, her eyes falling onto Archie playing in the gardens—a large stuffed bear of his and the wooden figurine of a ship both arranged in front of him.

It was Monday, a fresh start to the week and just as every week since the start of June, Archie had school.

His education was being funded and undertaken entirely by the Duke, sparing the careful emergency sum Isa had been saving up for that very purpose just in case. Amongst her husband's contemporaries, there was a man in possession of many titles—noble, scholar, traveler, teacher, astronomer, mathematician—who had taken charge of a handful of boys from noble families between the ages of four to twelve. The man meticulously taught his own schoolroom a variety of subjects, and his methods of teaching catered personally to every aged boy in his tutelage. The noblemen in Basingstoke, as well as many others from most corners of the Kingdom of Angria, were desperate to have their heirs included, but the teacher was quite picky.

After Archie's education concluded with Mister Gabriel DuBois—the duration of which was until he would turn twelve—then Archie could be sent off to a prestigious secondary school to continue his education further. At least, that was the plan that Duke Augustus Bennett had laid out to his wife.

The thought of her son being sent off to secondary school somewhere far away from her was daunting, but he was only four at present, and Isa didn't want to fret over things that were still a handful of years away.

"Archie sweetheart, come have breakfast, you have school," She called out to him, and he instantly heard and met her eyes through the open window.

Quickly nodding, he heaved up his large teddy bear and the stuffed toy was so big in his arms that he would hardly be able to see where he was going. Isadora exhaled a laugh before lightly tapping the elbow of a footman who was passing by her.

"Bring his toys in please."

The man nodded firmly, transferring the dish he was holding to another footman, as he made his way out of the dining hall and round to the gardens outside.

"Calling again, dear wife?" A familiar voice invaded Isadora's senses as the figure of the Duke—clad in a silver grey suit with yellow epaulettes at his shoulders and the red sash across his protruding stomach littered with a multitude of the Kingdom's badges—walked briskly in and seated himself at the head of the rectangular breakfast table.

Epaulettes at this shoulders meant that he was to be somewhere for presentation. Perhaps the royals were involved, Isadora though plainly. Otherwise on most days the Duke dressed proper but casual to spend days traipsing about on his lands and making sure his affairs were in order. 

"You would lure in a herd of young men besides Archie if you are not careful, didn't I remind you of that just yesterday?"

Isadora gave the man a pointed look before walking over to the other end of the table, where she was habitual of enjoying meals alone with Archie.

"I don't remember you saying anything at all yesterday," Isa offered, feigning obliviousness, "Are you sure you were talking to me?"

She had heard him though. Every single lurid remark he would make to reference her youth and beauty, she had heard. She didn't allow the words permission to register inside her of course, and after a few minutes they merely evaporated.

To be fair, the remarks her fifty year old husband made to her weren't entirely demeaning. In fact, Isadora had been surprised at how unaffecting they were at their core. In her more than two months of marriage, she had realized that the Duke merely thought of her as an asset. He thought of her as something rare that he had acquired, and regardless of whatever she went on to do, the sole fact that she lived with him and bore his name was enough for the man. A feat to showcase—something to display.

Isadora wondered then, if men the likes of her husband even liked women. Having hosted a plethora of guests since her marriage—mostly male friends of her husband's and rarely their wives—Isa was beginning to realize that men only liked men. Men strove to impress other men, and that was it really. Perhaps her late father too had been the same, perhaps the inheritance he should've given to his two daughters had already been gambled away by another man to whom her father had bestowed the favor.

Because men liked, and wanted to impress, only other men.

Nevertheless, Isadora had gained much confidence since the revelations she had made upon signing her marriage papers. The dull fear that had been in her heart had entirely vanished, leaving more empty hollow spaces that she had stopped keeping track of.

"Lucy," Isadora gestured to the maid, "Come sit."

Ever since her ailment, Isa had taken it upon herself to make sure that the girl ate as heartily as she was capable of. And if that meant having her seated at the same table as her husband, Isadora could care less about what the man thought.

"Really?" The Duke let go of his spoon then, as it clattered against his ceramic plate. "Today as well must the maid sit with us?"

"She is ill," Isadora shot out curtly, her sharp eyes briefly acknowledging her husband before she gestured to Lucy again, tapping the chair right next to her.

"I will make sure that she eats."

"Can you not ask a footman or another maid to make sure of that?" The man snapped, irritable as he ground his jaw all the way across the table.

"Must you adopt her too?"

Isa schooled her anger at the words as it bubbled up front. There had been times she had lost control and shouted at him, but lately she had realized that her indifference and ignorance were her most valued weapons against him in most cases.

The Duke of Basingstoke was a man who had gambled when he had married Isadora. He had gambled and he had assumed to have emerged victorious, but Isa had been quick to sever his assumptions.

Two months and a few weeks since her marriage to the Duke of Basingstoke, and Isadora hadn't let him touch her once, despite the pitiful attempts he had made. With an unconsummated marriage, she was doing just fine, but the same couldn't be said for the man she had signed the marriage papers with. He had gotten increasingly irritable as each day had passed, but his irritation had started quelling itself a month ago.

Perhaps it were the late night returns that had made her suspect the matter first, or maybe it had been the excessive amounts of money he carried on his person every night he went out. Regardless, the facts were clear. The Duke of Basingstoke had taken Isadora's advice—the one she given to him in the carriage when they had left the Royal Palace of Angria behind.

He had taken her advice, and was now engaging in quenching his thirst for conversation and lustful endeavors alike, with women in boarding houses who offered their services for a stack of copper or even gold deniers.

At first Isadora had feared he had no need for her then, if he could just get what he required from other willing women. He might as well turn her out. But then she had realized how less of a human she was to him. Rather, she resembled more an exotic vase shipped from overseas—something to keep and hoard and take pride over, because it had been bought hadn't it?

Strangely, to the Duke of Basingstoke, Isa would prefer to be a vase then a human. At least then she could keep him out of her mind.

"That is my concern, is it not?" Isadora managed, "Do worry about your tea getting cold, instead of a maid, your grace."

The Duke turned his head to a side, trying to control his anger. It was then that Archie ran into the hall, running up to take his seat at Isa's other side, when the Duke's anger slit something inside him and he brought his palm down hard on the table surface. Every piece of cutlery and china on the table shifted and clattered together, sounding like a harrowing version of wind chimes.

Archie stilled, his eyes wide as he briefly looked at the man, watching him violently push his chair back and leave the dining hall.

His wide sky blue orbs met Isadora's. "Mama?"

"Don't worry, sweetheart, seat yourself," She helped him onto the seat and gestured for a footman to push his seat nearer to the table from behind. "We shall quickly have breakfast and then Monsieur Louis will take you to school."

"Why is he angry, mama?"

Isadora almost smiled in her victory then. Regardless of all of her husband's minimal attempts, never once had Archie referred to him as his papa. Truth be told, Isadora had selfishly made sure her son spent most his time with her and Lucy when he was not in school, and perhaps all that had aided in some way. Regardless, Isadora could spot the dislike and distrust in her son's eyes for the man who was supposed to be his father, and it satisfied her to no end. The only reason she had married the man was for Archie, she knew that. Still, at least now her son wouldn't take anything against her on the matter of his biological father when he grew up, for she had tried hadn't she? 

Isadora didn't fear that the Duke would tire of Archie and go back on his agreement. Because as per the added clauses in her marriage document, it would cost him. Was the Duke to decide he no longer wanted Archie as his heir, he was to grant Isadora an additional total sum of 500,000 gold deniers as compensation and was to divorce her, because he would be taking back the sole reason she had entered into marriage with him. 

The clause had been an easy one to introduce, and the Duke had instantly agreed to it, not giving the matter enough thought much to Isa's relief. 

Perhaps this too was a reason he was keeping her around, so that he didn't have to part with 500,000 gold deniers, but she couldn't be sure, for the Duke—regardless of his issues—was invested in strengthening Archie's education and did not object against whatever sum Isa spent for the boy's pleasure on the side. At least, he hadn't as of yet. 

"Your father," Isadora placed a kiss on Archie's forehead. "Doesn't matter at present. It's such a beautiful day, let's not let other people affect our smile."

Archie beamed, quickly forgetting the man as he turned to his plate that Isa had made for him. He was still unclear on the matter of fathers, and Isadora had no heart to strengthen his hold on the topic. As far as Archie was concerned, father was just the Duke's given name. 

Isadora turned to Lucy then, watching the girl eat, before adding another piece of omelets onto her plate.

"Your grace, please," Lucy managed then, "Don't concern yourself with me. I'm fine. I shall eat my part, but no more. I wouldn't want to—"

"Nonsense," Isa narrowed her eyes. "We have a mirror of this conversation most days. Do you see this table? There's so much more to spare. I want you to eat till your fill, Lucy, not your part."

Lucy nodded meekly, still hesitant as she lifted a spoonful to her lips. 

"And don't worry about the Duke," Isadora exhaled, "Regardless of what he says, he has no control over you. You are not one of his staff. You have come with me, please don't forget that." 

—🥀—

The Duchess of Basingstoke watched her son being led gently by his hand towards the parked carriage, with the estate gardener's young apprentice, Louis, as the twenty year old laughed at something Archie had said. A satchel filled with a set of coloured chalk and a book advised by the teacher Mister Gabriel DuBois, was stationed safely strapped at Archie's back. 

Isadora watched them both with a smile from the west living room window, as she wrapped her arms across her chest. She felt and heard footfalls behind her, heavy thuds against the exotic Turkish carpets she had recently had installed. The footfalls neared her and stopped just behind her, she didn't need to turn to see who it was. 

"I could have taken the boy to school today, the last time I took him was weeks ago now," The Duke of Basingstoke, Augustus Bennett, spoke after a pause, his voice gruff and devoid of his earlier frustration. 

"You were busy fuming, as I recall," Isadora managed, keeping her eyes fixed on the image of the carriage outside, a stark contrast against the gleaming blue skies and the rolling green of the estate grounds. 

"I don't approve of you being near Archie when you emit such fury, your grace," She heard his feet shuffle on the carpet slightly, a manner that displayed his occasional rare regret. 

But alas, the man was in the habit of countering his regret with a retort each time. 

"I am your husband, use my name for God's sake." 

Isadora watched Louis and Archie stop in their tracks when Lucy came running up to both of them with a clumsy yet vibrant bouquet of flowers she had picked for the gardens. She laughed and dropped to her knees, picking out three flowers and attaching them to Archie's satchel as the little boy giggled with delight. Isadora saw Lucy hand a single flower to Louis, she saw them both blush furiously as Lucy spoke something and turned her eyes away, while Louis reached his arm behind his head to scratch awkwardly at his neck. The maid then kissed Archie's forehead, wished him goodbye and then with a shy look at the gardener's apprentice, she scampered away. 

Isa wondered then how easy it could be for some people. She wondered when Lucy would tell her, of if she would tell her at all.

The Duke cleared his throat behind her then, and Isadora felt the irritation cling to her. She knew she hadn't spoken anything. Her decision to remain silent and ignore him was purposeful and deliberate, he needn't create sounds to still garner her attention. 

"You look beautiful in that gown, did you buy it yesterday in town?"

Isadora bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing at the statement, the carriage carrying Louis and Archie had now rolled off, getting smaller on the horizon by the second. Her husband's attempts at creating conversation with her, after bouts of his sporadic and frustrating behavior, made her want to relieve herself of the roof of his estate. Which was why she had spontaneously taken Archie and Lucy to town yesterday and indulged in a bit of shopping, though this dress she had acquired much earlier before that. Sundays were vibrant in the town of Basingstoke, and there was always so much to see. 

"Why?" Isa spun around to look at him, her back now to the window she had been looking out of. "Would you like me to buy another just like it, for you?" 

The man had expected such a rebuke, and so he turned his head to a side before grinning. Then, his eyes bore into hers, his arms pinned behind his back as the badges on his chest glinted under the morning light pouring in from the window. 

"I received a letter from your mother this morning amongst my post," The Duke let out, "It seems she is thanking me for letting you organize a party at the estate for Lucinda Tremaine. I didn't read further, but tell me, is this a nonsensical matchmaking party for the girl?" 

Isadora shut her eyes briefly in the annoyance she felt for her mother. In lieu of the woman's acceptable behavior for the past two months, Isa had found herself agreeing to host something or the other at the estate for Lucinda so that the girl could try again—properly this time—for a match, considering she would now have a Duchess as her elder sister and patron to uphold her status amongst the noblemen. Isa hadn't asked permission from The Duke, for she had supposed she would tell him later. After all, the word party was a little too much. Isadora was thinking merely of a dinner with some eligible noble bachelors and their mothers invited. 

"It won't be a party, per se," She tried to settle the situation now that it had come up, "Just a dinner. I could invite some people over. If we can find someone for Lucinda then that would serve purpose, but otherwise humoring mother a little would be fine with me." 

The Duke exhaled a laugh and shook his head, before his thin slits of blue eyes met Isadora's. 

"You are asking me to agree to a dinner party at the estate, to which you will invite bachelors—noblemen, no doubt—but bachelors? Whilst you host this for your obnoxious and imbecile of a sister?"

Isa blinked slowly, turning her eyes away in annoyance. That was that, she supposed, there would be no dinner party with bachelors incoming at the estate anytime soon.  

"You are my wife, Isadora," Augustus Bennett snapped then, loose skin at his neck moving as struggling fury lacing his words, "You will not make a fool of me by parading and associating with other men underneath my own roof, regardless for what purpose!" 

She didn't respond, unfazed by his raised voice as it echoed through the otherwise silent living room and the hallway adjacent. 

She watched him as he swallowed shakily, trying to compose himself. It made her wonder just how much he was obsessed with having her around, having her with his name and under his roof, despite her not letting him touch her for even a second, and despite him getting his carnal pleasures from elsewhere in the night. The additional 500,000 gold deniers and the divorce would not be coming to her anytime soon, she knew that. 

"It was just as well that Archie left with Louis," The Duke cleared his throat again, straightening himself. "I shall have to go to the palace, I have received urgent word and there are trifling matters that have come up." 

Isadora tilted her head slightly. She had wondered often times if her husband had been in the presence of the royals. She wondered how often he saw them, but he had never spoken about the meetings if there had been some, and she didn't want to ask. But this was the first time he was telling her outright. 

"What matters?" She asked.

"The Angrian border has been attacked," The man spoke, his eyes narrowing. "The town of Alopie on the border—it went up in flames overnight. There have been more then a dozen casualties." 

Isadora blinked, shock reverberating inside her. Was the war that had been desperately foretold to her, arrived? Had it been this close all this time?

Isa shuddered then as she recalled the fairy godmother's words.

"My dear, you must not make choices that impact the future that we fairies saw. Lives are at stake. Ours, yours. Entirety of the kingdoms will fall if the dreaded opponent takes over. Bloodshed and violence will taint the world as we know it, because this war is not empire against empire. It is something entirely else." 

Isadora had made her choice since these words, she had impaled her own heart and went with what her rational thought had told her. She had screamed that she didn't care about a war when it was her heart that was hurting. She had screamed her indifference at the fairy godmother, and she had then made her choice. 

And now two whole months and a few weeks later, Angria's border was attacked. The fairy godmother hadn't foretold the intricacies of how the war would start or who it was that the kingdoms would be up against, but then again, Isadora hadn't seen the woman again since that night. Every time she had thought of the fairy godmother, she could only hear the old fairy imploring Isa to stay by the King of Angria's side for the outcome of the war. But surely, the damage had already been done, and there was no way to go back. And surely, regardless of what her heart wanted, surely her presence alone could not make the man she loved win a war. 

"Stay in today," The Duke muttered, oblivious to the thoughts spiraling in her head, before he pivoted to walk away. "I gather I shall be late." 

***

A/N:
to everyone who started reading this book for a sweet romance and a fun time, i'm sorry to disappoint you but this is going to be severely complicated