The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

”Is there anything you’d like to buy?” Damian asked as they navigated the uneven cobblestone path. His pace was steady, keeping her close as they passed a vibrant row of storefronts. ”If a particular dress catches your eye, let me know.”

”There’s no need. I brought more than enough trunks with me,” Eilika replied, her voice soft against the evening bustle.

”I meant something from Netham, something unique to this place,” Damian clarified, slowing his steps. ”The textiles here are woven differently from those in the capital. The craftsmanship is distinct.”

He came to a halt in front of a series of shops. Eilika stopped beside him, her gaze drifting over the storefronts. Even at this hour, the shops were packed with people.

”Let’s head into that store,” Damian said, gesturing toward a boutique with a polished oak facade. Eilika nodded and stepped inside ahead of him. The shop was filled almost entirely with women from the local nobility and wealthy merchant families.

A salesperson hurried over, bowing low. ”Good evening, sir, madam. How may I assist you this evening?”

”Show us your finest dresses,” Damian commanded. He didn’t glance at the price tags displayed on the nearby racks. ”Do not worry about the cost. I want only the best designs you have.”

The salesperson’s eyes brightened at the prospect of a high commission. He gestured toward a pair of velvet-upholstered chairs in a more private corner of the shop. ”Of course, sir. If you would please take a seat, I will bring our exclusive collection out for your inspection.”

Damian moved to a quiet corner of the boutique and pulled out a chair for her. Eilika sat, followed by Damian, who took the seat beside her. A servant brought them water, and as Eilika took a sip, the salesperson began to unveil the collection. Each gown was a masterpiece of Netham craftsmanship, featuring intricate textures and colors that seemed to glow under the shop’s lanterns.

”Every color will suit Madam,” the salesperson remarked, expertly draping the fabrics to catch the light. ”Our dyes are the finest in the province.”

Damian didn’t look at the salesman; his gaze was fixed on Eilika. ”Which one do you like?”

”This purple one looks good,” Eilika said, her hand reaching out to touch a gown of purple silk.

”You have a remarkable eye, Madam,” the salesperson said, his voice dropping to a respectful tone. ”The embroidery on this piece alone took two years to complete. It is one of a kind. Would you like to try it on?”

Eilika looked at the heavy silk, then back at Damian.

”Try it on,” Damian said, his tone leaving little room for debate.

The attendants immediately stepped forward, guiding Eilika toward the fitting rooms. Behind the heavy velvet curtains, they worked with efficient hands to help her into the gown. As the bodice was tightened, Eilika felt a wave of self-consciousness. She had never worn a sleeveless gown before; the bareness of her arms felt foreign, and she made a mental note to ask if lace sleeves could be added later.

The fit was impeccable, clinging to her figure in all the right places, but the neckline was far more daring than anything in her wardrobe. It plunged low, revealing the curve of her cleavage in a way that made her breath hitch.

”This is the latest fashion from the capital,” one of the attendants whispered, smoothing the violet silk over Eilika’s hips. ”It is designed to accentuate your feminine features, Madam. You look gorgeous in this.”

”But the neckline... it’s far deeper than what I’m used to,” Eilika murmured, her hands instinctively rising to cover herself. She stared at her reflection, finding it bold and more alluring.

”Why don’t you ask your husband, Madam?” the second attendant suggested. Before Eilika could offer a protest, the curtains were swept aside, exposing her to the brightly lit shop.

She stepped out with a hesitant grace, her silk skirts gliding against the floor as she approached Damian. He was mid-conversation with the salesperson, but the sound of her footsteps drew his attention. As she moved, she could hear the hushed murmurs of the other women in the boutique, their eyes following the shimmering train of the gown.

Damian’s gaze settled on her. Eilika searched his face, hoping for a rare compliment, but his expression remained as unreadable as ever. Her heart sank; she took his neutral silence as disapproval.

”I’ll try something else,” she said quickly, her hand rising to shield the deep neckline. She began to turn back toward the fitting room when Damian’s voice cut through the air.

”No. That one is perfect as if it were made for you.”

He stood up, signaling the attendants to bring a full-length mirror. Once it was positioned in front of her, Damian stepped into the frame, standing directly behind her.

”See for yourself,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble that only she could hear. ”The color suits you, and the cut... It makes you look more beautiful.”

He placed his hands on her bare shoulders. His palms were warm, instantly settling the frantic rhythm of her pulse. In the reflection, his eyes finally met hers, holding a silent compliment which made her smile.

”The neckline though...” Eilika trailed off, her fingers hovering near the low-cut silk.

”It looks good on you,” Damian insisted. He was well aware that she hid behind high collars and modest layers, a habit reinforced by the people’s past criticisms. He knew Eilika’s lack of confidence was rooted in the faint scar on her cheek, a mark that, in her mind, outweighed any beauty she possessed. He wanted her to see what he saw: a woman whose worth wasn’t defined by a single line on her skin.

”My wife likes this dress. Pack it,” Damian ordered the salesperson. He turned back to Eilika, his gaze softening slightly. ”Do you want any alterations? Any fittings?”

She shook her head quickly. ”It is perfect. I will change into my own clothes.”

As Eilika turned to head back to the fitting room, a sharp voice drifted from a nearby cluster of shoppers.

”Did you notice that scar on her face?” one woman whispered, loud enough to be heard. ”No matter how expensive the dress she wears, she will always be ugly.” The two women beside her broke into cruel laughter, their eyes darting mockingly toward Eilika.

The color drained from Eilika’s face, making her freeze in her place.