The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

”I think the Duchess contracted the fever because of the injury on her heel. The ankle has swollen significantly, and the inflammation is causing this severe discomfort,” the physician explained to Georgia, his voice hushed to avoid waking the sleeping woman.

”Then, what must be done? The fever has left her so weak. It isn’t anything life-threatening, is it?” Georgia asked, her hand trembling slightly as she flicked her paper fan.

”I have administered a sedative and a fever-reducer to the Duchess. By evening, the heat should break. I advise bed rest and only light meals for the next few days,” the doctor replied.

”Alright. You may go,” Georgia stated, dismissing him with a weary wave. Her gaze drifted to Roman. The boy was perched on the edge of the bed, his small hand resting near Eilika’s.

”Roman, you have classes to attend,” Georgia said softly, stepping closer. ”Your mother needs quiet if she is to recover.”

”Grandma, I won’t trouble Mama. Please let me stay,” Roman pleaded, his voice cracking. ”I will take extra classes tomorrow to make up for it. I heard the doctor say she needs cold wraps for her forehead. I can do that,” he asserted, reaching for a basin of water nearby.

”You are far too young for such burdens, child. Her attendant will see to it. Besides,” Georgia added, her voice dropping to a cautionary tone, ”if your father comes here and finds you neglecting your studies, he will be furious.”

Roman pouted, his chest tightening at the mention of his father. He slowly climbed down from the bed, casting one last lingering look at Eilika’s pale face before trudging toward the door.

However, once he reached the corridor, he didn’t turn toward the study hall. Slipping away from the distracted attendant tasked with following him, he ducked behind a marble pillar and doubled back. Heart hammering against his ribs, he headed straight for the Duke’s private wing. He needed to tell his father that Mama was hurting.

The doors to his father’s chambers stood ajar, an invitation Roman took with hesitant steps. He crept into the bedroom, his eyes darting across the expansive, shadows-drenched space. Finding it empty, he stood in the center of the room, feeling small beneath the high ceilings.

”Where did Father go? He didn’t even see Mother,” Roman murmured to himself, his brow furrowing with confusion and disappointment.

Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open. Damian stepped out, wrapped in a heavy silk robe, his damp hair tousled as he worked a towel over his head. He caught a flash of movement, a small shadow ducking behind the frame of the door.

”Come in, Roman,” Damian said.

Roman emerged slowly, his tiny fists clenched tightly at his sides. He looked up at the Duke, his eyes bright with a demand for answers. ”Mama is sick. Her fever is not going down,” he began, his voice trembling. ”I heard my friend’s father takes care of their mother when she is ill. Will Father not do that?”

The question hit Damian like a slap. He opened his mouth to deliver a sharp retort, to say that Eilika was nothing more than a stranger in his house, but the words died in his throat. He suddenly recalled Eilika’s warning from the night before: that his coldness and neglect would eventually drive Roman away, leaving the boy as hollow and bitter as his father.

Damian looked at his son, seeing the vulnerability in the boy’s gaze. Speaking so harshly might scare Roman.

”Eilika has gotten an attendant to take care of her,” Damian said, not looking at Roman.

The little boy’s jaw clenched. He walked to his father and, with his tiny hands, he hit his father’s legs in anger.

”Roman, what are you doing?” Damian’s voice rose. Before he could say more, a servant rushed in, panicked by the Duke’s tone, and pulled the boy back.

”Let me go!” Roman cried out, thrashing his tiny legs as the servant tried to lead him away. ”Father isn’t a good man! He neglects my mother!” The boy’s voice broke into a scream as fresh tears poured down his cheeks, soaking his collar. ”I don’t want to lose my mother! I finally got a mother... I want her to be well soon!”

The servant, terrified of the Duke’s temper, tried to hurry Roman out of the room, but Damian’s voice sliced through the chaos. ”Stop.”

Damian stepped forward and reached out, pulling his son into his arms. It was an embrace he hadn’t offered in years, stiff at first, but slowly softening as he felt the boy’s small frame shaking with sobs. He tucked Roman’s head under his chin, holding him close against the silk of his robe.

”Your mother will be fine, Roman,” Damian whispered. He felt a pang of genuine guilt as he looked at the boy’s distress. ”Forgive your father for neglecting her. We will go to see Eilika together. Just... Don’t cry.”

He stood there for a long moment, gently caressing the back of his son’s head, trying to provide the comfort he himself lacked.

Damian lowered Roman onto the edge of the bed once the boy’s sobs had subsided into small, hitching breaths. He reached out, his thumb catching the tears on Roman’s cheeks with uncharacteristic gentleness. ”Let me dress properly first,” he murmured.

Roman nodded obediently, his large eyes following his father until he disappeared into the dressing room.

A few minutes later, Damian emerged. Gone was the disheveled man in the damp robe; he stood tall in a structured charcoal waistcoat and crisp linens, the very image of a Duke. He scooped Roman back into his arms, the boy’s weight familiar yet foreign, and began the long stride toward Eilika’s chambers.

”Why do you like Eilika so much?” Damian asked. ”I saw you playing with her the other day. Does she truly treat you well?”

”Yes, Father. Mama is very kind,” Roman said, a small, genuine smile lighting up his face. ”She loves me a lot. I love her too.”

As he spoke, Roman studied his father’s face. He didn’t look scary at all right now. Feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion from his outburst, Roman let his tiny face rest against his father’s shoulder. For the first time in a long time, he felt entirely safe and sound.