Chapter 125: A Queen’s Threat.

Chapter 125

"What?" Duke Vesper muttered, the blood draining from his face as he stared at the trembling maid standing in the threshold.

The maid shrank back further against the wooden frame, bowing her head until her chin touched her chest. "Her Royal Majesty, Queen Evelyn... she is here at the front gates, my lord!"

Vesper straightened his posture immediately, brushing down the front of his coat while muttering under his breath, "Why in the heavens would she grace this estate unannounced?"

Beside him, Genevieve scrambled frantically, her fingers clutching at her skirts as panic seized her. "Well, what are you standing there for?" she hissed, her voice rising in pitches of anxiety. "The Queen is at our very door!"

The sharp cut of her voice snapped Duke Vesper from his brief trance. "Yes, of course," he barked, striding past her with quick, rigid steps.

They rushed through the grand entrance hall toward the heavy iron-bound doors where Queen Evelyn waited, enveloped in dark silk and surrounded by her royal vanguard. Duke Vesper and Genevieve instantly dropped into deep, formal bows. "Welcome to our humble estate, Your Majesty," Vesper declared smoothly, recovering his aristocratic composure. "Pray forgive the brief delay; your unexpected presence is a rare honor that caught us unprepared."

The Queen offered only a cold, dismissive hum, her sharp gaze sweeping over the grand foyer with utter indifference before stepping across the threshold. Vesper hurried to lead her further inside, stopping as she halted abruptly near the base of the grand staircase. "Duke Vesper," Queen Evelyn commanded, her voice like cut glass, "I have traveled here to speak with you directly."

Vesper bowed his head once more, a dark, hidden flicker of long-buried desire briefly illuminating his eyes as he looked upon the sovereign consort—a fleeting look that did not escape Genevieve’s watchful glare.

Sensing her husband’s lingering gaze, Genevieve spoke up, her tone far louder than necessary as she stepped into the Queen’s line of sight. "Your Majesty, if you would follow us to my husband’s private study, we may converse in absolute privacy."

Queen Evelyn slowly turned her head, casting a look of quiet disdain and mild irritation at Genevieve that made the former commoner’s blood run cold with humiliation. "I require only those of true noble blood in my presence," Evelyn stated coldly, her dismissal slicing through the hall.

Genevieve’s jaw tightened in suppressed fury, her fingers digging so deeply into her palms that her nails nearly broke, but Vesper placed a firm hand upon her forearm, holding her back. "As you wish, Your Majesty," Vesper submitted quietly, ushering the Queen toward his private quarters while leaving his wife fuming in the hallway.

Entering the study, Queen Evelyn glided gracefully across the room and took a seat upon one of the velvet armchairs without waiting for an invitation. Vesper closed the heavy mahogany door, his earlier composure fraying into irritation as he turned to face her. "Why must you treat my wife with such hostility, Your Majesty?" he questioned sharply.

Queen Evelyn looked up at him, her eyes cool and detached. "Because she does not warrant an ounce of my respect. She is a lowborn commoner who bore a child by a man who might as well have never existed. She may have slithered her way into your bed and stolen the title of Duchess, but beneath those silk gowns, she remains a common peasant."

Vesper’s face darkened, his nostrils flaring. "You were always far too proud for your own good, Evelyn. It was ever your most unbearable flaw."

The Queen let out a soft, mocking scoff. "And yet, your eyes never once left my frame when we were young, did they?"

Vesper let out a low growl of frustration, the jab piercing a bitter memory. In his youth, he had been utterly captivated by her cold beauty, yet no matter how desperately he had sought her favor, she had treated him with nothing short of complete apathy. To have her standing in his domain, looking down upon him with that same ancient arrogance, made his blood boil. "We are no longer youth chasing shadows, Your Majesty," Vesper spat back bitterly. "We have both grown and raised heirs. The past is dead. State the true purpose of your visit."

Queen Evelyn stood up, her dark velvet cloak sweeping around her ankles as her icy demeanor gave way to a sharp, venomous edge. "Your wretched, ungrateful daughter has dragged the dignity of the royal family into the gutter, Vesper, and you are going to fix this disaster. Do so, or you can kiss any prospect of aligning your house with the Crown goodbye."

Vesper’s breath hitched in his chest, his eyes widening. "What nonsense do you mean?"

The Queen stepped closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Exactly what I said! Because of Sigrid’s venomous leaks to the press, my son, the Crown Prince, is being openly mocked across every province! To quell the noble rebellion, the royal house will be forced to bow its head and issue a public apology to that insolent wench!" Evelyn began pacing the room, her dark eyes flashing with rage. "The monarchy will not suffer further humiliation on my watch!"

"And what precisely do you expect me to execute?" Vesper countered, attempting to stand his ground.

Evelyn let out a cruel, dry laugh that echoed off the bookshelves. "Do not play the ignorant fool with me, Vesper. You may have accomplished precious little of note since inheriting your father’s seat, but I know full well you maintain deep ties within the kingdom’s underworld."

Vesper’s heart hammered against his ribs, his posture freezing instantly. Evelyn smiled, a predator watching its prey panic. "You truly believed I was unaware of your shadow dealings?"

Vesper forced his breathing to steady, forcing a cold, dangerous smirk onto his own lips as he composed himself. "Of course I knew you were aware, Your Majesty... after all, you were once deeply involved in those very same shadow channels yourself."

Queen Evelyn spun around instantly, her eyes widening in genuine shock as the color drained from her cheeks.

Vesper felt a surge of dark triumph wash over him as he realized he had struck a nerve. Got you, he thought maliciously. Stepping toward her with renewed arrogance, Vesper continued, "I wonder how His Majesty King Reginald would react if he were to discover what his pristine Queen was once involved in—and what she currently plots within these walls? Sigrid may be a constant thorn in my side, but she remains my legitimate daughter. If I were to inform the King that you arrived at my estate to coerce me into harming my own blood, I ponder whose crown would tumble first?"

Beads of cold sweat formed along Evelyn’s hairline, her teeth gritting tightly as her hands trembled within her sleeves. Her wild gaze darted around the room until it landed upon the grand, gilded portrait hanging above the mantelpiece—the breathtaking likeness of Sigrid’s late mother. Evelyn clicked her tongue in sheer disgust, muttering under her breath, "The girl truly is the spit and image of that wretched woman..."

Regaining her rigid composure through sheer force of will, the Queen turned her icy glare back onto the Duke. "Listen to me closely, Vesper. This is a mutual crisis. The House of Beaufort and the Royal Crown will sink into absolute ruin together if we do not break Sigrid’s stride. She is an unmitigated menace, just as her mother was before her!"

Vesper scoffed, turning his face away. "You never could stand Sigrid," he remarked dryly, referring to his late wife who shared their daughter’s name.

Evelyn’s features contorted in sheer revulsion. "Do not speak her name in my presence! The public apology is decreed for fourteen days from now. I know you despise your daughter’s arrogance as much as I do."

Vesper crossed his arms, his tone guarded. "And what makes you so certain I shall lift a finger to assist your cause?"

?Queen Evelyn picked up her velvet purse from the table, stepping toward the door before pausing. She turned back and closed the distance between them, stepping so close that her dark cloak brushed against Vesper’s coat. Leaning in toward his ear, she leaned down and began to whisper a sequence of low, hurried words. Her voice dissolved into an inaudible murmur against the rustle of her silk sleeves, her dark intent conveyed entirely in hushed tones that left Vesper’s jaw tight and his eyes widening in mounting shock.

Straightening her frame, the Queen locked her eyes onto his with an absolute, terrifying finality. "If you obey my mandate, Maria shall remain the Crown Princess. If you fail me, I shall ensure she is stripped of her title and cast out of the court entirely." Vesper’s eyes widened in genuine horror at the threat to his cherished daughter’s future. Not that I could truly strip the girl of her title without causing a complete revolt among the high council, Evelyn mused internally, a silent smirk playing in her mind, but this arrogant fool needs no knowledge of my limitations.

Aloud, the Queen paused at the threshold, looking over her shoulder with eyes like polished steel. "You know what must be done, Duke Vesper. I expect tangible results in less than a week."

Without waiting for his response, Queen Evelyn swept out of the study, leaving Vesper standing frozen in a sea of conflicting thoughts. As she walked down the grand corridor toward the estate exit, she found Duchess Genevieve standing near the archway, her hands tightly clenched and her face twisted in bitter resentment. "What were you two discussing in secret?" Genevieve demanded, her voice shrill with jealousy.

Queen Evelyn did not even slow her pace, offering only a cold, disinterested glance as she passed. "That is entirely beyond your concern, commoner."

Genevieve let out an outraged gasp, taking a step forward, but the Queen paused just before reaching the double doors, looking back over her shoulder one final time.

"No matter how many silk gowns you drape over your shoulders," Evelyn whispered, her voice carrying a venom that chilled the very air, "you will never replace the first true Duchess Beaufort."

Genevieve’s heart burned with a violent, agonizing hatred as the Queen swept out into the courtyard, leaving the Beaufort household to drown in its own festering shadows.