Chapter 124: The Ghost Of The Late Duchess.

Chapter 124

The grand carriage of the House of Beaufort ground to a sudden halt before the towering wrought-iron gates of the estate, its iron-rimmed wheels kicking up small clouds of gravel.

The door snapped open before the footman could even reach the handle, and Duke Vesper stepped down onto the stone path, his face a blazing fury waiting to be unleashed. He stroed past the bowing servants without offering a single glance, his posture stiff and his breath coming in hot, ragged bursts. Swerving through the grand entrance, he made a straight line for his private study, slamming the heavy mahogany door behind him with a thunderous crash that echoed throughout the quiet corridors of the estate.

Alone within the confines of his sanctuary, Vesper began to pace the room with frantic, furious energy, his nostrils flaring as his red-rimmed eyes scanned the silent walls. "That insolent, ungrateful girl!" he snarled under his breath, his voice raspy with venom. "How dare she! After every luxury and mercy I afforded her, she subjects me to such utterly unbearable humiliation!"

The memory of the court returned to burn behind his eyelids—the sneering aristocrats, the mocking whispers, and the intolerable looks of pity and contempt directed at his person. He slammed his fist against the edge of his oak desk, the wood groaning under the impact. "I am a duke of the realm! My daughter is the Crown Princess! Yet those arrogant fools look upon me as though I were a beggar pleading for copper coins in the gutter!" His fury mounted further as he recalled how they had dared to compare Sigrid to his precious Maria, mocking his house’s standing. "How dare they speak as if that commoner’s shadow were superior to my own blood!"

He turned sharply on his heel, resuming his pacing until his wild gaze locked onto a massive, gilded portrait hanging above the mantelpiece. The canvas depicted a woman of extraordinary, ethereal beauty—her crimson eyes and serene, regal posture the very definition of grace and magnificence. She was the late Duchess Beaufort, Sigrid’s mother.

Vesper stepped closer to the painting, his jaw clenching so tightly his teeth ground together. "Because of your demon-stricken daughter, my life has been dragged into utter shambles," he hissed bitterly at the canvas. Before he could spiral further, a soft, tentative knock sounded at the door. Vesper turned with a dark glare as a young maid slipped inside, carrying a small silver tray bearing a hot cup of tea.

Seeing the Duke’s state, the maid carefully set the tray down on the desk, stepping closer with a coy, practiced grace. "My lord," she murmured softly, sliding a smooth hand up his arm to rub his tense shoulder.

Vesper let out a low, gruff sigh, picking up the porcelain cup to take a quick sip. As the warm liquid settled his throat, he looked down at the young girl, desire swirling in his dark eyes. He set the cup back down on the saucer with a clatter, grabbing hold of the maid’s waist and pulling her firmly against his chest.

The girl let out a soft giggle, leaning into his hold as his hands lingered along her waist. "My lord, you appear deeply troubled," she purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "What bothers you so?"

Vesper smirked, tilting her chin up with two fingers. "Do not worry yourself, my dear. A creature like you could never comprehend the heavy burdens of a duke." Leaning down, he pressed his lips against hers, closing his eyes as his mind finally found a fleeting moment of peace.

Their quiet moment was abruptly shattered when the heavy doors of the study were thrown open once more, slamming violently against the stone wall. Vesper and the maid stumbled apart in a panic, turning toward the entrance to find Duchess Genevieve standing upon the threshold, her face contorted in a furious scowl. Her sharp eyes darted between her husband and the disheveled servant, suspicion burning brightly in her gaze. "What is the meaning of this?" Genevieve demanded, stepping into the room. "What are you doing in here?"

The maid quickly gathered her composure, bowing low. "The Duke returned from court in great distress, Your Grace. I merely brought him tea to soothe his nerves."

Genevieve glanced coldly at the half-empty cup on the desk. Her suspicion subsiding into irritation, she barked, "Leave us at once!"

The maid scurried out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Genevieve let out a long, ragged breath, smoothing her silk gown with hands that trembled slightly. "My lord, we have a terrible problem," she declared, her voice laced with rising panic.

Duke Vesper groaned in annoyance, turning his back on her as he walked toward his desk. "Do you not see the sheer fury I am suffering, woman? Must you pester me the moment I step through the door?"

Genevieve took offense at his sharp tone, but brushed it aside in her desperation. "The noble ladies at court... they have begun ostracizing me completely!" she cried, her eyes wide with dismay. "They speak behind my back, claiming I am a terrible mother for raising our lovely Maria! They call me a wicked stepmother who mistreated Sigrid, when I was nothing but gracious to that ungrateful child! Three days ago, I was being praised as the mother of the future Queen, and now they look upon me as if I were nothing more than a commoner!" A cold shiver ran through her frame as the ghost of her impoverished past resurfaced. "I will not be dragged back into the gutters, Vesper! I will not!"

Duke Vesper listened to her hysterical rambling with quiet disdain, offering no true sympathy for her plight. In his eyes, she was simply panicked over losing her fleeting social standing, whereas his own ancestral honor was being dismantled. "Sigrid has crossed every line," Vesper growled, pacing around the room once more. "How dare she cause such a ruinous scandal across the capital? Our reputation is sinking into the dirt, after everything I provided for her!"

Genevieve stepped forward, her face twisted in malice. "You must do something, my lord! You must put an end to this! It is all because of your foolish daughter that our lovely Maria is being dragged through the mud! Maria is being made a complete fool, and it is all because of Sigrid—that wretched daughter of that foolish ex-duchess!"

"Woman, do not dare speak of her in that manner!" Vesper thundered, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Only he had that permission.

Genevieve’s eyes flashed with anger as she snapped back, refusing to back down. "Do not attempt to lecture me, Vesper! I warned you years ago that you should have divorced that woman while she was still breathing, but you refused to listen! If you had severed ties with her then, Sigrid would be out of our lives and no longer our burden! But no, that fiend had to go and die, leaving her miserable child upon your shoulders!"

Vesper slammed his palm against the mahogany desk with a force that rattled the inkwells. "Silence your foolish mouth, Genevieve! You know full well I could not have simply divorced her to marry you! You were a commoner, a single mother with no noble standing whatsoever! What do you think that would have done to my house? My late wife was the daughter of a high duke, a woman aligned with the highest circles of the realm! To cast her aside after she bore my heir, simply to elevate a commoner with a fatherless child, would have utterly ruined my name!"

Genevieve’s face burned with bitter humiliation as his harsh words struck her like a whip. Deep down, the old resentment flared anew—the painful memory of how privileged and untouchable Sigrid’s mother had always been. She had been the paragon of beauty and intellect, engaged to Vesper while maintaining suspiciously close ties to King Reginald himself, while Genevieve had been forced to watch from the shadows of the lower quarters. "Yet her daughter is now making our lives a living hell!"

Genevieve spat, her voice trembling with hatred. "After everything we did to keep her contained! And all because her mother had to die and leave us with this curse!"

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the study. The mention of the late Duchess’s death always brought an uncomfortable stillness to the room, for the true circumstances surrounding her sudden demise remained a secret shrouded in dark, unspoken history. Vesper stared at the portrait on the wall, his brow furrowed in deep, troubled thought as the ghosts of the past pressed heavily upon his mind.

Before the silence could stretch any further, a timid knock sounded at the door. A maid pushed it open slightly, her voice squeaking in terror as she saw the dark expressions of her master and mistress. "My lord... My lady..." the maid stammered, clutching her apron.

Vesper turned on her, shouting fiercely, "What is it now?!"

The maid shrank back, bowing frantically as she delivered the news. "H-His Majesty’s consort... Her Royal Majesty, Queen Evelyn, has just arrived at the front gates!" Duke Vesper and Duchess Genevieve exchanged a sharp, startled look, their eyes widening in utter astonishment at the unexpected arrival of the Queen.