Chapter 98: Clumsy Oaf Duke

Later in the evening, Penelope stood before the full-length gilded mirror, fully adorned for the ducal ceremony.

Two imperial maids made final, precise adjustments to the cascading folds of her skirt before stepping back with low, reverent bows. Looking at her reflection, even Penelope could not remain blind to the striking vision before her.

The deep, burgundy gown, intricately embroidered with silver thread, framed her silhouette magnificently. It was a dress fit for courtly war.

Her fingers lightly brushed the pristine silver crest of House Devereux pinned near her collarbone, a soft, affectionate smile touching her lips. Yet, the warmth faded as quickly as it had come, replaced by the heavy, suffocating memory of the Emperor’s audience.

Tomorrow night.

He had given her until tomorrow night to deliver her answer to an impossible demand.

How in the world am I supposed to forge a bond between those two? She thought, her brows furrowing in frustration as she stared into her own reflection. Surely His Imperial Majesty understands how absurd that sounds! Does he take me for some kind of miracle worker?!’

Even if she somehow managed to convince Vincent to hear her out, what were the chances Duke Lucian would do the same? The man looked at her as though she were a mild annoyance at best, and Vincent’s wife at worst. Attempting to bring two of the most stubborn, prideful military commanders in the empire to the same bargaining table felt less like diplomacy and more like trying to muzzle two wild lions with a silk ribbon.

But what if she refuses, and the Emperor orders for her head to be taken?!

The image of an axe meeting her neck made her throat close with a dry gulp.

No, no, no.

Not her precious neck!

She needed a plan.

In times like these, she would have given anything for Martha’s steady presence.

“Your Grace, you look stunning in this dress,” a maid complimented, snapping her out of her spiral.

Penelope offered a strained smile to the young woman’s reflection in the glass. She deserved none of the praise, as it was the court maids who had painted away her exhaustion and draped her in perfection.

Yet as she stared at her immaculate

reflection, her chest tightened.

Why did she still feel so utterly defenseless?

Languishing in this dressing room would yield nothing. If she meant to hold her own between two ruthless commanders, she needed to gather her wits, and a draft of cold corridor air was her best hope of clearing her head.

There was still time.

Tonight belonged to Vincent, and she refused to tarnish his triumphant moment with her own anxieties, concerns that bound them together, yet felt entirely hers to solve.

Without waiting for the maids to arrange the heavy drape of her train, Penelope made for the chamber doors, desperate for solitude.

“Your Grace?” a maid gasped, but Penelope was already turning the brass handle.

She pulled the door inward, casting a swift glance down the stone passage before stepping into the hall.

She reached the courtyard at last, finding it blissfully empty. Glad to know that everyone was likely gathered downstairs, Penelope drew a ragged breath of the crisp night air, letting the chill numb her frayed nerves as she began to pace the flagstone path.

The silence was a welcoming solace, bathed in the silver radiance of an unusually bright moon.

Perhaps there is a way to make this work.

She checked herself, shaking her head at her own naivety.

“No… that Duke is insufferably arrogant as it is,” she muttered under her breath.

“Whom, exactly, do you deem so arrogant?”

The low, dark voice directly behind her startled her so violently that Penelope spun on her heel. Standing at the very edge of the stone terrace, the sudden turn sent her balance tipping precariously backward.

A gasp escaped her lips, her hands grasping wildly at air to arrest her fall, all while catching Lucian’s completely unbothered gaze in the fraction of a second before impact.

How embarrassing!

She snapped her eyes shut,bracing for the stone steps.

Instead, a strong grip clamped around her wrist, halting her fall mid-air.

When Penelope dared open her eyes, she was hoisted back upright with effortless force, leaving her chest to chest, eyes locked, standing far too close to the Duke.

Oh no.

Stepping into the moonlight around the courtyard corner, Lady Madeline halted mid-stride. She instantly shrank back into the darkness of the alcove, her gaze fixated on the pair.

For a moment, sheer disbelief held her frozen. She blinked, forcing herself to stare again through the gloom.

“Can it be—?” Her breath hitched, her expression souring into pure, unadulterated disgust. “Is that… Lord Vincent’s pathetic excuse for a wife?”

Madeline pressed a gloved hand to her neck, her blood bubbling with malicious indignation.

“What is that vulgar little creature doing alone with Duke Lucian? In a secluded garden, practically in his arms!” She hissed under her breath, a cruel smile cutting across her face. “The absolute audacity. Her husband stands on the precipice of becoming a Duke, and she is already slithering toward her next conquest. She has no shame, no breeding, no restraint! I knew she was a viper. I told Cathy, didn’t I? I told her that woman was a parasite waiting to strike. Oh, Cathy will feast on this…”

Unable to keep such scandalous news to herself, Madeline tiptoed backward into the gloom, slipping away as quietly as she had come.

Meanwhile, panic took hold of Penelope before her brain could catch up—and she shoved Lucian away with all her strength.

The violent push caught him so completely off guard that he stumbled backward, his heels catching until his back struck the stone wall with an ungraceful, heavy thud.

Penelope’s hand instinctively twitched outward to catch him, her eyes wide with terror.

Oh no.

This was bad.

She hadn’t meant to throw him across the courtyard, but he had been standing so close!

Under any other circumstances, seeing a legendary, high-and-mighty commander stumble like a clumsy oaf would have had her clutching her sides in laughter. But given that she was the perpetrator—and he was currently glaring daggers at her—laughing was a death sentence.

“I-I am so sorry!” the apology tumbled from her lips in a panicked rush. “I… I didn’t mean to push you so hard! Are… are you alright?”

Lucian slowly straightened, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had subjected him to such indignity—let alone a woman he had literally just saved from cracking her skull open. A dark, mortified flush crept up his neck, his immaculate pride thoroughly shattered.

With excruciating, deliberate slowness, he brushed the dust from his velvet coat before fixing his dark gaze upon her.

“First, you drench my coat in wine, then you badmouth me. Now, you assault me,” he remarked, his tone dripping with cool disdain. “I am beginning to think I ought to have let gravity take its course.”

He intended to deliver a blistering lecture on decorum, but as his eyes swept over her face, the words caught in his throat.

In the silver moonlight, she was breathtaking. The court maids had dolled her up, leaving her glowing, delicate, and entirely too endearing. With her wide glossy brown eyes gazing up at him in sheer, horrified panic, she looked maddeningly sweet.

His throat felt unnaturally dry.

Witches, the lot of them.

Women were lethal, unpredictable hazards. It was why he made a strict habit of shunning their company. Vincent had clearly weaponized his wife, sending her out into the night for the sole purpose of unraveling his sanity.

But, he would not let him win this battle.

“Unbelievable,” Lucian spat softly, casting one last dark glance at her.

He turned away, his cloak snapping behind him as he marched back toward the main hall, desperate to put distance between them.

Penelope watched him retreat into the gloom, her shoulders slumping. She closed her eyes in dismay, realizing she had just rendered her impossible task ten times harder.

How was she ever meant to bring that man to a bargaining table now?

Minutes slipped past while she stood frozen in the cool night air, wrestling with her panic. She was just beginning to regain her breath when a firm tap landed on her shoulder.

Penelope shrieked, jumping nearly a foot off the flagstones as her heart leaped straight into her throat.