Letter To Verdaselles

The next morning, a delivery man rode his bicycle to the Capulet Manor, carrying the day's newspaper. One of the servants received it and promptly took it inside. Moments later, Navier, seated in her office, was handed the paper. Her eyes widened as she read the headline: "Capulet Found in a Low-Class Café." Slamming her hand on the desk, she growled, "Despicable! This bastard is tarnishing our name!" Her fists clenched in fury as the rest of the family gathered in the room exchanged uneasy glances.

"He's doing this on purpose," Navier muttered, her voice sharp and low.

Delico Capulet, a handsome boy with strawberry blonde hair and striking green eyes, chuckled as he shook his head. "We need to confirm if he's really Marie's son or just another fool stirring up trouble," he said, his voice tinged with mockery. Standing at 5'11, Delico was dressed impeccably in a black suit, his long hair framing his chiseled face. He was Navier's grandson, the son of Brimsley Capulet, and the nephew of Clarisse.

Brimsley, seated close to Navier, had the same strawberry blonde hair as his son, though it was trimmed short. His brown eyes were locked on the newspaper as he took it from his mother's hands. "It's unfortunate they didn't capture his face… We could have dealt with him immediately," he said, scanning the article carefully.

Oliver, standing nearby, silently nodded in agreement with Brimsley, his arms folded across his chest, a scowl etched on his face.

Navier shook her head. "You're wrong, Brimsley. My friend Eunice encountered him. She saw him up close," Navier added, making the room grow still as her daughters—Rosalina, Elena, and Nervile—gasped.

"How does he look?" one of the daughters asked, her voice filled with both curiosity and apprehension.

Navier tapped her fingers on the armrest of her chair. "According to Eunice, he's definitely strawberry blonde, with an unnerving beauty… and grey eyes. Grey eyes strikingly similar to Marie's."

The revelation sent murmurs through the family, especially among the daughters, who were now whispering to one another. Rosalina, Elena, and Nervile were all seated close together, each with their own unique beauty. Rosalina and Elena shared their mother's grey eyes and strawberry blonde hair, while Nervile's silver hair stood out, a rare trait that she shared only with her twin brother, Nefthi.

Rosalina, Elena, and Nervile were married to their husbands—Nathan, Ernarld, and Harper—each of them distinct in appearance. Nathan had jet-black hair, Ernarld sported fiery red locks, and Harper was a blonde. All three had children with their wives, but curiously, none of the husbands were present at the current family gathering.

The absence of their spouses at such a critical moment did not go unnoticed. Rosalina, the eldest of the sisters, sat poised, her grey eyes scanning the room. Elena, always calm and collected, crossed her arms, occasionally exchanging glances with her twin brother, Nervile. Nervile, with her striking silver hair, seemed deep in thought, as if considering the implications of what was unfolding.

While the sisters kept their emotions in check, the absence of their husbands left a gap, adding tension to the already heated atmosphere. It was unusual for them not to be involved, especially when a family matter of this importance was being discussed.

Navier's other sons—Gregory, Velico, Cerisse—stood in the background, looking equally tense. Gregory had the same strawberry blonde hair as his siblings, but with brown eyes. Velico's platinum blonde hair shimmered in the light, a near-silver shade reminiscent of his late father, who had been known for his pale blonde hair. Nefthi, however, with his silver hair and green eyes, was an enigma, his gaze intense but quiet.

"Nefthi and Oliver, you're both unmarried, and it would be wise to avoid any scandals connected to this mystery Capulet. We need to tread carefully," Navier warned.

"Agreed," Oliver muttered, his expression grim.

As the family members exchanged their thoughts, it became clear that this stranger, possibly related to Marie, could shake the very foundations of their reputation. Everyone in the room felt the weight of their legacy, and no one was more determined to uphold it than Navier herself.

Suddenly, Clarisse barged into the office, a servant trailing behind her. All eyes turned in her direction as the door slammed shut. "My Lady, there's more news about this young man," Clarisse announced, waving another newspaper in the air. She hurried over to Navier, thrusting the paper into her grandmother's hands. As whispers spread through the room, Clarisse folded her arms, impatiently waiting.

Navier scanned the headline: **"Handsome Man Lodging at Bruthswick Lodge Changes Policy, Forces Authorities to Discard Indecent Behavior."** She rubbed her forehead, shaking her head with an exasperated sigh.

"I can't believe this," Navier muttered. "What more will he bring upon us?"

"Also, Grandmother," Clarisse continued, "I dug up more information. I bribed the receptionist at the lodge for access to their records. Turns out, he's very close to Eric Bruthswick. This is more than just coincidence."

The others listened intently as Clarisse handed a file to the servant accompanying her. But before it reached Navier, Oliver intercepted it, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Let me see that," he said, opening the file. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"His name is Dominic Frederick Brusward, Viceroy of Verdaselles and husband to Evangeline Vanth Sarogath," Oliver announced. Navier raised her head in interest, her expression turning serious, while the room buzzed with shocked murmurs.

"I knew it. He's Marie's son!" Delico exclaimed with a smirk.

"Viceroy? How?" Nervile asked, her brow furrowed in curiosity as she tapped her chin.

"Tch. It's obvious," Velico scoffed, rolling his eyes. "He climbed to the top, just like his father Victor. Bruswards don't hide. I bet he killed people to reach that position."

Brimsley, sitting close to Navier, leaned forward. "The Bruswards never change their ways. They fled to another country to continue their dirty work after being banned from Eardoznia. I still don't understand how Dominic managed to gain entry here." He was about to elaborate when Clarisse interrupted.

"Not exactly, Uncle," Clarisse sighed, crossing her arms. "His marriage to Evangeline was arranged. From what I've heard, things aren't going well between them."

Elena raised an eyebrow. "What kind of issues are they having?"

Clarisse ran a hand through her hair, deep in thought. "That's what Sophia told me. Eric's daughter."

**Flashback to Clarisse's Meeting with Sophia:**

Clarisse sat at a diner, waiting for Sophia Bruthswick. She sipped her wine impatiently, glancing at the door. Finally, Sophia arrived, her face slightly flushed from the rush. "Sorry I'm late," Sophia apologized, smiling awkwardly as she sat down. "It's my first time meeting a Capulet in person," she added with a shy giggle.

Clarisse wasn't one for small talk. "Tell me about the handsome gentleman who's always around your father," she asked bluntly, leaning forward, her eyes sharp with curiosity.

Sophia blushed deeper. "Ah, yes. That's Dominic Brusward. I've heard a lot about him from friends in Verdaselles. His wife, Evangeline, is a relative of the king." She beckoned a waiter, placing her order while Clarisse listened intently.

"So she's of royal blood?" Clarisse asked, her curiosity piqued. "How did Dominic become Viceroy?"

Sophia sighed, settling into her seat. "It was arranged by Evangeline's grandmother. After Evangeline's mother, Adrielle—the former Viceroy—died in a shipwreck, her grandmother didn't think Evangeline was mature enough to handle politics. So, she arranged the marriage and appointed Dominic as Viceroy. But ever since their wedding, things between them haven't been good. They're constantly fighting."

Clarisse smirked, twirling her glass of wine. "And they don't have any children?"

Sophia shrugged. "How could they? You can't have children if you're always fighting."

Sophia's expression suddenly grew somber. "It's a shame he's married. I wanted him for myself," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But my father punished me for even thinking about it."

"I see… That makes sense," Clarisse replied, chuckling. "A couple with unresolved issues wouldn't have time for children."

**End of Flashback:**

Back in the present, Clarisse finished her story with a shrug. "Sophia's heartbroken over him. Too bad for her that Dominic is already taken."

Velico scoffed, unimpressed. "Let her be heartbroken. She wouldn't last a day with a Brusward."

Brimsley nodded in agreement. "He's just like Victor. Nothing but trouble. The sooner we deal with him, the better."

Navier remained silent, though her eyes were cold and calculating. "Dominic Frederick Brusward… Husband of Evangeline Vanth Sarogath… Marie's son." Her voice was soft, but it carried a weight that silenced the room.

"Trouble, indeed," she murmured to herself, plotting her next move against the man who seemed determined to drag their family's name through the mud.

"That's all," Clarisse concluded, her words hanging in the air as the room erupted into whispered gossip.

"Did you find anything about Marie?" Navier asked, tapping her foot rhythmically on the floor, the tension in the room thickening.

"No, Grandmother," Clarisse admitted, her frustration evident. "But we need to get rid of him! He's a Brusward! And now, people think we associate with those plain cafés." She stomped her foot in anger.

"There will be no need for rash decisions," Navier responded calmly, her words making the room fall silent. "There must be a reason why he came here. And don't forget, he is also our blood."

The declaration sent ripples of shock through her children, none of them pleased by the implication.

"Why, Mother?" Nefthi asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"What I know is that the Bruthswick authorities have been negligent of late, and if Dominic's presence there has forced them to change, he may not be as bad as we think. However, that does not mean we should trust him. More importantly, we need to find out about Marie. Is she alive or not?" Navier rose from the sofa, using her walking stick for support, her eyes distant as she gazed at the ceiling.

"Many times, I regret cutting Marie off," she continued, her voice softening. "But her decision was foolish. I tried to marry her into a noble family, and yet, she chose Victor." Navier's fists clenched in frustration. "I still wish she would come back, even now."

"So, Mother," Brimsley spoke, breaking the silence, "what do we do about Dominic?"

Navier's expression darkened, her mind calculating. "We will put him to the test. If he truly is Marie's son, and if he shares Victor's greed, then we will act. As for his hair, we must do something about it."

She turned sharply to Oliver. "Oliver."

He stepped forward and bowed his head. "Yes, Mother?"

"I need you to acquire a lock of Dominic's hair and verify if it's real. If it's his natural hair, and if he is truly Marie's son, we'll proceed. We must also find a way to neutralize the café incident before it causes more damage to our reputation." Navier's gaze drifted toward the large clock standing against the wall, as though considering the ticking time.

"Why can't I do it, Grandmother?" Clarisse interjected, jealousy seeping into her voice. She hated being sidelined after her earlier efforts.

"You've already played your part, Clarisse. Let Oliver handle this." Navier's tone was final. "Bruswards can appear less greedy than they are. We need to be cautious and keep a close eye on Dominic."

With that, Navier walked toward a drawer, pulling it open to reveal a small jar containing a liquid and a transparent bag. She closed the drawer with a soft click and approached Oliver, handing the items to him.

"You'll need these," she instructed, her eyes piercing. "Take a lock of his hair. When we've gathered enough information from him, we'll decide his fate. Whether we kill him or spare him depends on what we find out." She gestured to the items in Oliver's hands, her words chilling the room.

Brimsley, his frustration mounting, interjected. "Mother, we should arrest him now. That's the best decision!"

Navier's eyes narrowed at her son. "We will not act impulsively, Brimsley. We must be patient. Let's watch and see how things unfold." Without another word, she turned, heading toward the exit, her presence lingering in the air like a shadow of danger.

As she left, the room remained quiet, her children exchanging uneasy glances. The Capulets had survived many things, but the return of a Brusward—and potentially their blood—was not something they could take lightly.

An hour Later Oliver was called for a personal meeting with his mother,Navier sat alone in the dimly lit study, the room quiet except for the occasional rustling of her skirts as she shifted in her chair. The only light came from a small desk lamp, casting a warm glow over the ornate wooden chessboard before her. The board was a rich mahogany, its pieces meticulously carved in ivory and ebony. She moved the chess pieces with deliberate precision, her sharp eyes focused on the board as if each move were a strategic maneuver in a grander game of politics.

She adjusted her position, carefully placing her king's bishop in a slightly more aggressive stance, while her pawns formed a protective line across the board. Her fingers lingered over the pieces, her mind not on the game itself but on the real-life chess match she was orchestrating with Dominic.

The delicate clinking of the pieces against the board was almost meditative as she pondered her strategy. Each move on the board mirrored her thoughts on Dominic's situation. The pawns represented her allies, each positioned to support her strategic goals. The bishop, with its diagonal sweep across the board, symbolized the clandestine methods she planned to employ.

Her mind was occupied with plans to uncover the truth about Dominic. Oliver was set to be her knight in this intricate game. She needed to confirm whether Dominic was truly Marie's son and if his claims of respectability were genuine or merely a facade masking greed and deceit. To do this, Oliver was tasked with obtaining a lock of Dominic's hair, an endeavor crucial to verifying his identity through forensic analysis.

Navier's gaze shifted to the doorway where Oliver stood, waiting patiently. With a nod, she gestured for him to approach. "Oliver," she said, her voice steady and commanding, "Our next move must be executed flawlessly. The hair sample you obtain will determine whether Dominic will remain a part of our world or be discarded."

Oliver nodded, his expression serious as he prepared to leave. "Understood, Mother. I will see to it immediately."

As he departed, Navier turned back to the chessboard, her fingers lightly grazing the ivory bishop. She thought about the precision required in both chess and her plan. Every piece, every move was critical, and every detail needed to be perfect to ensure that Dominic's true nature—and his fate—would be revealed.

Navier remained at the chessboard deep in thought, her mind as sharp and calculating as the moves she made on the board.

Navier's fingers glided over the chess pieces with a focused grace. She imagined each piece representing a facet of her strategy: the pawns as her loyal allies, positioned to support her investigation; the rooks as the key players in her network; the knights and bishops as the secretive methods and subtle maneuvers required to unearth the truth. The queen, she envisioned, as the ultimate authority in her plan, commanding and decisive.

Her thoughts danced between the strategic game on the board and the real-life drama unfolding with Dominic. If Oliver succeeded in obtaining the hair sample and proving whether Dominic was indeed Marie's son, it would confirm if he was a true relative worthy of trust or merely a pretender with ulterior motives.

Navier visualized various scenarios based on the outcome of Oliver's task. If Dominic's hair confirmed their suspicions—either verifying his identity or revealing deception—Navier would be prepared to take the necessary actions. Her strategy had to account for every possible outcome, ensuring that whether Dominic was a loyal family member or an opportunistic interloper, her response would be swift and precise.

The chessboard, with its careful arrangement of pieces, was a metaphor for the careful planning and foresight she required. Each potential move was weighed and considered, reflecting her deep contemplation of Dominic's future and the fate that awaited him based on the truth her investigation would uncover.

In her solitude, Navier's thoughts were a flurry of strategies and potential outcomes. The game of chess, with its complex and calculated moves, served as both a literal and figurative representation of the intricate and high-stakes game she was playing with Dominic's future.

An hour later Navier remained at the chessboard to rethink her thoughts again, her mind working with the precision of a master strategist. Every move on the board was a reflection of the larger game at hand—Dominic's fate, and the future of their bloodline. She studied the chess pieces intently, each representing a key player in her plan, while one particular piece—the bishop—stood for Dominic.

Slowly, she moved a pawn forward, symbolizing the initial steps of their investigation. Oliver was her pawn, sent to gather proof, to test the waters and see if Dominic was truly her grandson, or a dangerous pretender. The pawns were important in any strategy, often underestimated, but essential to clearing the path for victory.

Her fingers hovered over the bishop, the piece representing Dominic. She moved it cautiously across the board, cutting diagonally through the ranks of her pieces. Dominic was unpredictable, much like the bishop's movement, but not without purpose. His charm, intelligence, and position could either make him an ally—or a threat. If he was indeed Marie's son, then he was family, and family was not so easily discarded. But if he was anything like his father, Victor, then caution was needed.

Navier then moved her queen—a representation of her own influence. The queen was her, navigating every move with authority, watching over the entire board. If Oliver succeeded in getting the lock of hair, the truth would come out. Whether Dominic would be spared or cut down would depend entirely on what the test revealed.

She stared at the bishop again, wondering—if Dominic was indeed her blood, would she allow him to remain close, or would he still pose a danger to the Capulet legacy? His motives remained shadowed, his presence a complication, not yet fully understood.

With a slow, deliberate hand, Navier knocked over the bishop, allowing it to fall onto the chessboard. She raised an eyebrow and smirked to herself. If Dominic proved to be a threat, if he revealed his nature to be one of greed and deception, then his fall would be swift and without hesitation.

But if he were truly Marie's son, her grandson, then perhaps there was hope. The bishop could rise again, loyal to the family, playing its part in the greater scheme. She would allow him that chance—but only if his motives were pure.

"Let's see what you're truly made of, Dominic Brusward," she whispered, her eyes narrowing as she rearranged the pieces once more. The game had only just begun.Her strange seclusion made the servants worry

Dominic sat quietly at the real estate meeting, observing the other businessmen as they presented their analyses. When it was his turn, he stood confidently and made his way to the front. The room grew silent as he began addressing the market analysis and inflation reports, his voice commanding attention. He smoothly transitioned into a detailed overview of the current real estate opportunities in Eardoznia, specifically focusing on land purchase prospects and economic trends.

Dominic stood at the front of the grand hall, the polished mahogany floors and ornate chandeliers casting a refined glow over the gathering of businessmen and real estate moguls. It was the early 20th century, and the air was thick with the promise of industrial expansion and burgeoning opportunities in land acquisition. Dressed impeccably in a tailored three-piece suit, complete with a gold pocket watch tucked into his waistcoat, Dominic exuded both sophistication and quiet authority. His neatly styled strawberry blonde hair and piercing grey eyes only enhanced his polished demeanor.

The audience waited, murmurs of anticipation rippling through the crowd as Dominic straightened his papers on the lectern. He cleared his throat, and immediately, the room fell silent.

"Gentlemen," Dominic began, his voice deep and measured, with the slightest trace of an accent that spoke of education abroad. "Today, I present to you an analysis of the real estate market in Eardoznia, where opportunities for land acquisition have never been more promising."

He pointed to a large board displaying neatly crafted charts and maps of Eardoznia's territories, illustrating the geographical advantages of various plots. "As we look toward the expansion of industry, it is imperative to understand the value of land not just in urban centers but in the surrounding countryside. The completion of the new railway system linking Eardoznia to neighboring markets will create a surge in demand for both residential and industrial properties."

Dominic's voice carried a refined authority, every sentence deliberate and confident. As he gestured toward the map, his gloved hands moved with precision. His sharp, chiseled features and impeccable dress gave him a regal air that only added to the weight of his words.

"Now, concerning inflation," he continued, his eyes scanning the crowd of men in their dark coats and bowler hats, "we've seen some fluctuations, but with the newly implemented government policies favoring foreign investment, we are poised for a period of stabilization. This is where strategic acquisitions become not just profitable but essential."

The audience listened attentively, captivated by both his intellect and his presence. Dominic's analysis was sharp and well-researched, but it was the way he delivered it—with an unspoken ease and confidence—that left the room hanging on his every word. "To those who might consider risk a deterrent, I propose that by focusing on rural estates, especially those near developing infrastructure, one might secure both immediate gains and long-term success."

As Dominic concluded his presentation, he stepped back from the lectern, the soft clapping of gloved hands echoing through the room. Many businessmen nodded in approval, while a few others whispered amongst themselves, impressed by the young man's foresight and knowledge.

His presentation was both insightful and precise, each point backed by well-researched data. Dominic's intelligence shone through as he broke down complex figures and explained the significance of real estate investments in the region. He also highlighted potential risks in the market, offering solutions that showcased his strategic foresight. As he spoke, the audience—both local and international investors—watched in admiration, captivated by his sharp mind and eloquence. His beauty, with his striking features and refined presence, only added to the intrigue, but it was clear that his mind was what left the strongest impression.

Once his presentation concluded, Dominic stepped down from the podium to mingle with the other attendees. Several local businessmen approached him, eager to exchange contacts and network. They marveled at his wisdom and knowledge, especially given his relatively young age, and were thoroughly impressed by his professionalism. Many of them complimented his presentation, expressing how they were looking forward to potential future collaborations. Some even sent their regards to his family, noting that he carried himself with the poise of a seasoned married man.Dominic descended into the throng of attendees. As he mingled, exchanging cards and engaging in polite conversation, the businessmen complimented him on his thorough understanding of the market. "A fine presentation, Mr. Brusward," one older gentleman said, tipping his hat in respect. "It's rare to see such a keen mind at your age."

Dominic smiled politely, his eyes reflecting appreciation without arrogance. "Thank you, sir. It's all in the details, I find. One must always look ahead while keeping a steady hand on the present."

Despite the male-dominated crowd,not all the attention was purely professional. A few women attending the event, clearly taken by his good looks and charm, tried to engage him in flirtatious conversation. Their eyes lingered too long, and their smiles hinted at more than just business. One such woman, elegantly dressed in lace gloves and pearls, approached him, her fan fluttering delicately as she smiled.

"Mr. Brusward, your presentation was simply marvelous," she said, her voice soft and melodic. "Surely, someone as intelligent and handsome as yourself must have a mind for more than just business. Perhaps you'd care to join me for tea sometime?"

Dominic, ever the gentleman, gave a courteous nod, his expression unfalteringly polite. "I'm flattered by your offer, madam, but I must decline. My obligations are quite numerous, and time is, alas, a limited commodity."

The woman pouted slightly, but Dominic's tactful dismissal left no room for further advances. He excused himself gracefully, moving on to engage with another group of investors.As soon as he felt the interaction was shifting towards personal interest, he excused himself gracefully, stepping away from their advances with a practiced elegance.

As the evening wore on, Dominic remained the focal point of the gathering. His natural beauty, charm, and intelligence were impossible to ignore, yet he maintained a distance that prevented anyone from getting too close. His cold, calculating mind was always working, and he knew better than to entangle himself in the personal intrigues of others. By the time the meeting concluded, his reputation had only grown, not just as a sharp businessman, but as a man who knew how to balance both grace and authority in every aspect of his life.

Dominic kept his focus entirely on business, his demeanor never faltering. He navigated the event with ease, earning the respect of his peers while dodging the distractions. His calm, composed nature left a lasting impression on everyone in the room, not just for his intellect but also for his ability to maintain control in any situation.Even when aware of the implications and the complications such interactions could bring, remained composed. He offered polite but distant responses, avoiding any unnecessary conversation.

Dominic and Caleb returned to the lodge and went straight to their room. Dominic, with his usual graceful demeanor, removed his shoes and handed them to a guard. The guard took the shoes and placed them neatly on the rack. Another guard stepped forward to take Dominic's coat, and without a word, Dominic handed it over, along with his gloves. Both guards nodded respectfully and turned to put away his belongings.

Caleb, following suit, hung his own coat and picked up Dominic's portfolio, carefully placing it on the desk. With a tired sigh, Caleb sat down, eyeing Dominic. "After a long day, I'm starving. Are you hungry, Dominic?"

"Maybe," Dominic replied neutrally, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. He approached the desk, opening drawers in search of paper to write a letter.

"You barely eat anything, even when we were home," Caleb remarked, a hint of concern in his voice. "Or if you do, it's hardly enough to sustain you."

"A man has to work hard," Dominic responded, his tone steady, as he finally found the paper he was looking for. "I have a lot of responsibilities now." His gaze softened for a brief moment. "Gone are the days of a single life. I'm married now."

Caleb noticed the stack of papers in Dominic's hands and raised an eyebrow, thinking it was yet another report. "Doesn't mean you should neglect your health," Caleb said, more forcefully this time. "And what are you doing with those papers? Another report?"

"Not this time," Dominic replied as he sat on the edge of his bed. "I need to write a letter home. We were supposed to return yesterday, but circumstances have extended our stay. I must let Evangeline know personally." He held the paper delicately, as though the act of writing to his wife held a special weight.

Caleb, sensing that Dominic needed the moment, stood. "I'll order some food, my lord. You've gone too long without eating."

"Mmm," Dominic acknowledged with a nod as Caleb excused himself from the room. Once alone, Dominic stood up to retrieve a pen and ink. He then returned to the bed and began composing the letter, his mind focused on the words he carefully chose. His first letter was formal, explaining the extended stay to the household staff back in Verdaselles. The second letter was more personal, intended for Evangeline. His hand moved gracefully across the paper, though he occasionally paused, his thoughts wandering.

By the time he finished writing, Caleb had returned with a food trolley, insisting Dominic eat. Dominic sighed but finally relented, eating a modest amount while Caleb watched with approval.

Later, Dominic stepped out of the lodge, his refined posture and graceful walk catching the eyes of passersby. He inquired about the nearest post office and was directed to one near Riyue. When he arrived, he paid the necessary fees for the letters to be delivered to Verdaselles, ensuring they would reach the estate quickly. As he finalized the transaction, his thoughts briefly lingered on how his absence might be affecting those back home. Yet, with his usual calm and detached air, he brushed the thought aside and made his way back to the lodge, his mission complete.

Three days later, the letter from Dominic arrived in Verdaselles. Evangeline was lounging on her balcony, dressed elegantly in a white lace gown, silver shoes adorning her feet, and lace gloves covering her delicate hands. She lay sideways on the lounge chair, the cool breeze rustling the edges of her gown. The moment the servant handed her the letter, she immediately recognized Dominic's handwriting.

Curious, she opened the letter and began to read:

"Hello, Evangeline,

I trust you're recovering well from your little injury, and I hope the house is still in one piece during my absence. I couldn't return earlier because, as you might expect, urgent matters required my attention. But don't worry, I'll be back soon enough to... keep things interesting. And how is Richard? Is he keeping your bed warm in my stead?"

Evangeline's breath caught in her throat, and her grip tightened around the letter. She didn't even finish reading it. Her face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment, her cheeks burning at Dominic's audacity. The nerve of him! She stood up abruptly from her lounge chair, storming into her room. With fury coursing through her veins, she walked straight to the candle on her study table. She held the letter over the flame, watching as the edges curled and blackened.

Just before the letter was fully consumed, it slipped from her fingers, falling to the floor. The fire had burned most of it, but one part remained untouched: a brief message from Dominic, directed to Magdalene, about the investigation.

"The audacity of this man!" she spat, stomping her foot in frustration. Her mind swirled with anger as she turned away from the half-burnt letter. At that moment, Magdalene entered the room, bowing her head slightly.

"My lady, your breakfast is ready," Magdalene said, her tone careful as she noticed Evangeline's fiery mood. Her eyes drifted toward the half-burnt paper lying near the candle.

Evangeline turned to her, trying to maintain her composure. "Very well. I'll come now. Call the maids to clean up this mess, and get rid of that letter. I have an appointment today, and I will not allow anything to ruin my mood." With that, she swept out of the room, her posture rigid, her footsteps sharp as she made her way to breakfast.

Magdalene waited until Evangeline was gone before picking up the charred remains of the letter. She scanned the surviving words:

"Tell Magdalene to send a letter back to Eardoznia regarding the investigation. If the culprit is found, I'll be back to personally deal with the criminal."

Magdalene sighed softly, setting the rest of the letter alight in the candle flame. "I wonder what he wrote that made her so furious," she thought to herself. "Thank goodness she didn't burn everything before I saw this."

As she watched the last of the paper turn to ash, Magdalene muttered quietly, "And Richard isn't around today either... probably off at the brothel again." She cast a glance toward the open balcony doors, her thoughts swirling with curiosity and concern over the tension between Dominic and Evangeline.

Richard was indeed at the brothel, where he paid for the company of several women having sex with them in bed. Afterward, he handed them a batch of cookies, secretly mixed with contraceptives that had been prepared by Evangeline's head chef—not Charles. The women ate the cookies without suspicion, thanking Richard for the unexpected treat, unaware of his concerned motives on them getting pregnant. Satisfied, he paid them and left the brothel, heading back home. As he walked, Dominic's piercing words from earlier echoed in his mind, cutting through his thoughts like a knife.

"Dominic is a piece of work... no wonder Evangeline doesn't like him much," Richard mused, shaking his head. "But what am I saying? I worked under Victor Brusward—I shouldn't be questioning myself like this. At least going to the brothel is better than... getting too close to Evangeline."

He pushed those thoughts aside as he passed a flower shop and impulsively bought a bouquet of tulips, knowing they were Evangeline's favorite. With the flowers in hand, he caught the next train back to the estate.

Later that morning, after finishing her breakfast, Evangeline bumped into Richard as she was heading out. He handed her the tulips with a charming smile. She blushed slightly, accepting the flowers with a quiet appreciation.

"I'll keep these in the greenhouse," she said, admiring the vibrant blooms. "I have an appointment with someone today. Would you like to join me?"

Richard nodded, his interest piqued. "Yes, I'd love to. What's the appointment about?" he asked, playfully brushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

Evangeline's eyes lit up with a hint of excitement. "I've been doing some... research of my own. After visiting my uncle's mine, I took a few stones with me. I've been studying them."

She recalled spending long hours in her study, carefully examining the stones she'd collected, experimenting with cutting them into different shapes, keeping it all hidden from the rest of the household. Her mind drifted to memories of her engagement period with Dominic, when Prince George had accompanied her to the king's mine. She remembered how the day she had stumbled upon Dominic and Richard in the garden had changed everything.

"Are you a collector?" Richard asked, his curiosity evident as he scratched his chin.

Evangeline smiled, a little shy but proud of her secret hobby. "Yes, I suppose I am. I've been exchanging stones I've studied and cut. After that auction Magdalene and I attended, I delivered a few pieces to Prince George personally."

Richard raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Does your grandmother—or Dominic—know about this?"

"Of course not," she replied quickly, folding her arms with a hint of defiance. "They're only interested in politics. They've never cared about my personal interests, so I've kept this from them."

Richard chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright. But... I'm feeling rather tired after this morning's errands. Once I've rested, I'll join you in meeting this person you're expecting." He leaned in, kissing her cheek gently before walking away. Evangeline smiled as she waved him off, heading toward the greenhouse with the tulips in hand.

As she disappeared into the distance, Bethany, a servant who had been lurking in the shadows, watched the exchange between Richard and Evangeline with clenched fists. Anger and regret simmered inside her. She was the same servant who had crossed paths with Magdalene in the living room on the day Magdalene had been framed. Bethany had long harbored her own complicated feelings for Richard and seeing him so affectionate toward Evangeline stoked a bitter fire within her.