The man sat with his long legs crossed, leaning back into the black leather chair.
Fingers gloved in white tapped rhythmically against the armrest while the young girl standing before him nervously fidgeted with the hem of her newly purchased blue dress—bought specifically for this visit to the duke’s estate. Damian, however, sitting there and waiting for something remotely interesting to happen, was bored to death. The girl had likely imagined that she would quickly voice all her grievances, complaints, and indignations, take her monetary compensation, and just as swiftly leave the estate. But the moment she stepped into Damian’s study, accompanied by the butler, and laid eyes on the striking, stately, and undeniably charismatic man before her, she instantly forgot why she had come. “Well?” Damian looked at his uninvited guest with a questioning gaze, his eyes betraying a complete lack of interest in the entire situation. “Well… well. I wanted to…” Damian cut her off with a casual wave of his hand, as if beckoning someone closer. For a brief moment, the girl thought he was calling her, but the butler quickly stepped forward instead, lighting a cigar and bringing it to Damian’s slightly parted lips. She blinked in surprise, perhaps even exhaling in relief, silently praising herself for not rushing toward him like an obedient pup at his slightest gesture. Another second, and she might have done just that. “So, you came to discuss compensation because my brother supposedly took advantage of you and discarded you like a stray dog?” “W-what? I…” “How exactly did it happen? Did he force himself on you? Were you his mistress for a time? Or perhaps he used your body to entertain his dim-witted friends?” “N-no, I mean… actually, yes. He took advantage of me after a theater performance… about two years ago.” “And why have you come only now?” “Excuse me?” “Why didn’t you go to him while he was alive? Why come to me two years later?” “Well… to be honest, I heard that you compensate—rather, that you apologize to his victims with money, and I thought…” “And you thought I’d offer you some gold as an apology?” “Y-yes.” “Don’t get confused, miss. Your forgiveness means nothing to me. I wasn’t the one who committed those vile acts—that was my dead brother, a former duke who wasn’t even deemed worthy of burial in the family crypt.” A haze of smoke filled the room as their conversation dragged on, and Damian grew increasingly disinterested. He despised meaningless discussions—especially ones that led nowhere. “But, Miss Meredith, you did provide a bag of gold just last autumn.” “I’m sure I did.” Damian barely remembered which of his brother’s women had received what. He didn’t recall their faces, their names, or the supposed “wrongs” he had been compensating for. Compensating. Not quite the right word. The truth was, Damian had never understood Michael’s actions. He had always considered his brother immoral, debauched, and utterly lacking in principles. Even amidst wartime hardships, while the nation suffered, all Michael cared about was his lust and his drinking. He had ultimately met his end from an infectious disease he contracted during one of his reckless escapades. And with no direct heirs, the title of Duke of Hartess had passed to Damian, the only remaining brother and, much to the country’s delight, its war hero. Damian had returned from war a year and two months after Michael’s death. Now, all that remained was for him to embrace a life of wealth, peace, and luxury. His life had never been a quiet one, from military school to the battlefield. Of course, he didn’t miss the war. He never would. Those were the darkest times for the Empire and beyond. But what he did miss was the company of his comrades. He had been the first among them to leave the capital, citing estate matters as his reason. No one was surprised. They had all longed to escape. They had all craved silence. And so, after a year of tranquility in Lancaster Manor, his only remaining burden was the mess left behind by his dead brother. Exhaling a slow stream of smoke, Damian studied the girl in front of him, watching as she scrambled for another lie—one that might actually convince him. It was obvious she had, indeed, been with Michael. After the rumors, Damian had taken it upon himself to investigate his brother’s past, and Lucy Barnes had been on the list of his many lovers. However, in Jack’s reports, she wasn’t listed as a victim but as a long-term mistress. Not that Damian cared to sort through yet another of Michael’s messes. He was bored beyond belief—something Jack noticed immediately. Jack had been Damian’s personal secretary since he officially received his title. Though he hadn’t served long, he was confident he understood his employer better than most. “Let’s end this here,” Damian said, rising from his chair. “But I’m not finished!” Lucy protested. “What about the harm I suffered?” “From now on, you’ll be dealing with me,” Jack interjected smoothly, stepping between them. “This way, please.” With a polite yet firm gesture, Jack led the girl out of the study. As they exited, Damian, now standing by the window, turned toward the butler, who was silently awaiting further instructions. The silence stretched longer than expected, forcing the man to speak first. “Your Grace, another visitor awaits you,” the butler finally announced. “A woman?” “Yes.” “Another one of Michael’s problems?” “I assume so, sir.” Charles had served at Lancaster Manor for over forty years. No one knew this estate better than he did. Over the decades, not only had the household staff changed, but the title of Duke had passed through four different masters—three of whom were now dead. And all he could hope for now was that Damian would hold the title longer than his predecessors. Gruff though he was, there was something good in him. Descending the staircase to the first floor, Charles halted the moment he laid eyes on the young woman waiting below. Despite what he had just told Damian, she did not seem like one of Michael’s usual women. Her posture, her composure, the way she carried herself—all unmistakable signs of nobility. She was neither an opera singer, nor a stage actress, nor a barroom dancer. But after a year of entertaining nothing but scandalous guests, he had simply assumed. “My apologies, my lady. His Grace is feeling unwell today,” Charles said, watching her carefully. “What a shame.” A note of disappointment tinged her voice. “Please send him my regards. I hope he recovers soon.” “I shall certainly convey your message, my lady,” Charles replied with a slight cough. She inclined her head politely. “Thank you.” “If you could provide your name, I could arrange a meeting for you when His Grace is available.” “Oh, of course! How terribly rude of me to forget introductions.” She let out a small, self-conscious laugh. “My name is Isabella Alliste. Daughter of the late Baron Alliste.”Sometimes, things don’t go as planned. For instance, today, Isabella left her house without an umbrella. She only realized she needed one when she stepped out of the bakery, drenched in cold water hurriedly carried by a passing waiter. Meanwhile, a man walking by, shielding himself from the rain with a newly purchased newspaper, stumbled and fell face-first into the mud.Holding a bag of poppy seed buns she intended to gift to the Lancaster estate’s butler, Isabella glanced up at the sky. The rain showed no signs of stopping. With a heavy sigh, she stepped back inside the bakery and sat at an empty table.“I need to hurry,” she suddenly thought.This week alone, she had visited the duke’s residence three times, and three times she had been turned away for various reasons. But she was not one to give up so easily. The only positive outcome of her visits was the butler’s growing favor. During her time waiting at the estate, they had engaged in pleasant conversations, and on her last vis
Not everyone appreciates having their peace disturbed by an unexpected visitor.Take Damian, for instance—he firmly believed in the saying: “Uninvited guests rarely receive a warm welcome.” A month ago, when his Aunt Marie paid him a visit, pleading for his help in securing a place for her son at the Royal Academy of Arts, he refused, citing the woman’s lack of courtesy. Or just last week, when Thomas—his late brother’s friend—knocked on his door in the dead of night, begging for a loan to pay off his debts to moneylenders, swearing he would return it once he won back his losses. And then, of course, there was poor Lucy Barnes, who had accused the former Duke of assault and demanded a hefty compensation at the very beginning of this entire story.Out of all his uninvited guests, Isabella was the most persistent—and that irritated Damian. But at the same time, it intrigued him.On the first day she appeared at his estate, he had been too drained after dealing with Lucy Barnes and turne
The human mind is a remarkable thing. It can find a way out of the most difficult situations, anticipate several moves ahead, and conceal emotions behind a mask of indifference. But sometimes, even the most perceptive people find themselves at a loss. That was exactly what happened to Jack.The Duke of Hartess’s secretary was a composed man, accustomed to handling financial reports, conducting business correspondence, and keeping his master’s schedule in order. But none of his skills could help him now.A child. A member of the Hartess family. Or perhaps an impostor?The thought circled in Jack’s mind, refusing to let him rest. He tried to predict what Damian’s next move would be, but as always, the duke remained unreadable. Sitting in his office, he silently drank bourbon, gazing absently into the darkness beyond the window.“What is he thinking? What decision will he make?”Jack didn’t know. But he knew one thing: when Damian stayed silent for too long, it never led to anything good
Sometimes, a single word is enough to erase the torment of waiting. Sometimes, a single gesture is enough to restore lost confidence.Isabella poured tea into two plain cups and placed them on the dining table. The rough wooden surface, cracked with age, did not match the graceful movements of her hands. Opposite her, idly twirling an aluminum spoon between his fingers, sat Damian.“Are you sure you want to talk here?” he asked, letting his gaze sweep over the tiny kitchen.Isabella nodded.“Jane is asleep,” she replied calmly. “I don’t want to wake her.”Damian silently accepted her decision. He picked up his cup and took a small sip, never taking his eyes off her.Isabella no longer seemed troubled. Four days of anxiety were behind her; now her confidence once again wrapped around her like a sturdy shield.“I looked into your title,” Damian began, setting his cup aside. “The barony of Alliste hasn’t been generating income for a long time.”Isabella gave a restrained smile.“Four yea
Sometimes, a single word is enough to erase the torment of waiting. Sometimes, a single gesture is enough to restore lost confidence.Isabella poured tea into two plain cups and placed them on the dining table. The rough wooden surface, cracked with age, did not match the graceful movements of her hands. Opposite her, idly twirling an aluminum spoon between his fingers, sat Damian.“Are you sure you want to talk here?” he asked, letting his gaze sweep over the tiny kitchen.Isabella nodded.“Jane is asleep,” she replied calmly. “I don’t want to wake her.”Damian silently accepted her decision. He picked up his cup and took a small sip, never taking his eyes off her.Isabella no longer seemed troubled. Four days of anxiety were behind her; now her confidence once again wrapped around her like a sturdy shield.“I looked into your title,” Damian began, setting his cup aside. “The barony of Alliste hasn’t been generating income for a long time.”Isabella gave a restrained smile.“Four yea
The human mind is a remarkable thing. It can find a way out of the most difficult situations, anticipate several moves ahead, and conceal emotions behind a mask of indifference. But sometimes, even the most perceptive people find themselves at a loss. That was exactly what happened to Jack.The Duke of Hartess’s secretary was a composed man, accustomed to handling financial reports, conducting business correspondence, and keeping his master’s schedule in order. But none of his skills could help him now.A child. A member of the Hartess family. Or perhaps an impostor?The thought circled in Jack’s mind, refusing to let him rest. He tried to predict what Damian’s next move would be, but as always, the duke remained unreadable. Sitting in his office, he silently drank bourbon, gazing absently into the darkness beyond the window.“What is he thinking? What decision will he make?”Jack didn’t know. But he knew one thing: when Damian stayed silent for too long, it never led to anything good
Not everyone appreciates having their peace disturbed by an unexpected visitor.Take Damian, for instance—he firmly believed in the saying: “Uninvited guests rarely receive a warm welcome.” A month ago, when his Aunt Marie paid him a visit, pleading for his help in securing a place for her son at the Royal Academy of Arts, he refused, citing the woman’s lack of courtesy. Or just last week, when Thomas—his late brother’s friend—knocked on his door in the dead of night, begging for a loan to pay off his debts to moneylenders, swearing he would return it once he won back his losses. And then, of course, there was poor Lucy Barnes, who had accused the former Duke of assault and demanded a hefty compensation at the very beginning of this entire story.Out of all his uninvited guests, Isabella was the most persistent—and that irritated Damian. But at the same time, it intrigued him.On the first day she appeared at his estate, he had been too drained after dealing with Lucy Barnes and turne
Sometimes, things don’t go as planned. For instance, today, Isabella left her house without an umbrella. She only realized she needed one when she stepped out of the bakery, drenched in cold water hurriedly carried by a passing waiter. Meanwhile, a man walking by, shielding himself from the rain with a newly purchased newspaper, stumbled and fell face-first into the mud.Holding a bag of poppy seed buns she intended to gift to the Lancaster estate’s butler, Isabella glanced up at the sky. The rain showed no signs of stopping. With a heavy sigh, she stepped back inside the bakery and sat at an empty table.“I need to hurry,” she suddenly thought.This week alone, she had visited the duke’s residence three times, and three times she had been turned away for various reasons. But she was not one to give up so easily. The only positive outcome of her visits was the butler’s growing favor. During her time waiting at the estate, they had engaged in pleasant conversations, and on her last vis
The man sat with his long legs crossed, leaning back into the black leather chair.Fingers gloved in white tapped rhythmically against the armrest while the young girl standing before him nervously fidgeted with the hem of her newly purchased blue dress—bought specifically for this visit to the duke’s estate.Damian, however, sitting there and waiting for something remotely interesting to happen, was bored to death.The girl had likely imagined that she would quickly voice all her grievances, complaints, and indignations, take her monetary compensation, and just as swiftly leave the estate. But the moment she stepped into Damian’s study, accompanied by the butler, and laid eyes on the striking, stately, and undeniably charismatic man before her, she instantly forgot why she had come.“Well?”Damian looked at his uninvited guest with a questioning gaze, his eyes betraying a complete lack of interest in the entire situation.“Well… well. I wanted to…”Damian cut her off with a casual wa