The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

The next morning, as Damian dressed, his valet discreetly identified the servants responsible for the gossip regarding his relationship with Eilika.

Damian gestured for the man to step back. The valet finished smoothing the shoulders of his overcoat, and Damian turned to the mirror, pulling his black leather gloves onto his hands with a sharp tug.

”I would like you to call Mr. Enrico Riffled this afternoon,” Damian commanded.

”Certainly, Your Grace,” the valet replied, bowing his head.

As Damian strode out of his chamber, he found five maidservants already on their knees in the drawing room, their faces pale with terror.

”Your Grace, please forgive us! We will never speak against—” one began, her voice trembling.

”I do not give second chances,” Damian pronounced. ”Give them thirty flogs and throw them out. No mercy petition shall be brought to me.”

He didn’t spare them another glance as he walked past, the sound of his boots echoing against the marble floor. He had set a new precedent in the mansion: the Duchess’s reputation was now as untouchable as his own.

”Father, good morning,” Roman greeted from behind.

Damian stopped and turned. ”Good morning, son. You woke up early today.”

The valet and the surrounding servants exchanged brief, surprised glances at the uncharacteristic softness in the Duke’s tone. Roman walked up to his father and continued, ”Because Mama is taking me out today.”

”I remember now. She wants to shop for some summer clothes for you,” Damian said.

”Yes. Father, will you accompany us?” Roman asked, looking up with expectation.

”Not today. Father has to meet with several nobles,” Damian replied. He reached down to take the boy’s tiny hand and began walking with him toward the breakfast hall.

”Father, let’s give flowers to Mama. The garden is in full bloom with many roses,” Roman suggested, his pace quickening to keep up. ”The red ones look best. My teacher told me once that they represent love.”

Damian slowed his stride, Roman’s innocent words hitting him with unexpected weight. He glanced toward the tall windows that overlooked the palace gardens.

”Red roses,” Damian repeated. He didn’t wish to do such things but for his son’s sake, he had to. ’Eilika may get a wrong meaning. I’ll clarify to her.’

As they stepped into the open garden, the gardeners paused in their work, bowing their heads in surprise at the sight of the Duke and the young master. Damian walked toward the beds of vibrant roses, his boots crunching on the gravel path.

”I would like a small bouquet of red roses,” Damian ordered.

The head gardener hurried over, skillfully selecting the finest blooms. He swiftly bound them into a bouquet and handed them to the Duke with a respectful bow.

”Thank you,” Damian said, his gaze lingering on the deep crimson petals.

”Uncle, I want a rose too,” Roman said, looking up at the gardener.

The head gardener nodded kindly, carefully clipping a single perfect stem and smoothing away the thorns before handing it to the boy. ”Here, young master.”

”Thank you, uncle,” Roman said, his face lighting up with a bright smile as he clutched the flower.

Together, father and son turned back toward the mansion.

As they entered the breakfast hall, they found Eilika already conversing with the maids regarding the breakfast.

”Mama!” Roman chirped in excitement, releasing his father’s hand to run toward her.

Eilika turned, her smile reaching her eyes as she brought her hands to Roman’s back, returning his hug.

”Good morning, Mama. This is for you,” he said, holding out his single rose.

”Thank you,” Eilika whispered, taking the flower from him before bending down to press a kiss to his forehead.

”Father also prepared a bouquet for you,” Roman added, turning his head to look back at Damian.

Damian felt a wave of flustered heat rise to his neck; this wasn’t quite how he had intended to present them. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of the nearby maids whispering and smiling amongst themselves. Hesitantly, he walked toward Eilika and extended the bouquet.

”Roman insisted we pick fresh roses for you,” Damian murmured.

Eilika reached out and took the small bouquet from him. ”Thank you, Damian.”

”Father, why don’t you put a rose into Mama’s hair? The same way you did at the cottage,” Roman said, his eyes sparking with mischief as he looked between them.

”Don’t, Roman,” Eilika said softly, looking down at the boy to hide the sudden flutter of her heart.

Damian stood frozen for a second, his hand still hovering near the flowers. He glanced at the delicate strands of Eilika’s hair and then back at the expectant face of his son.

”Why, Mama? You look beautiful when you have a flower in your hair bun,” Roman insisted, his voice bright. ”Father, please do it.”

His persistence once again forced Damian to act against his usual restraint. Taking the single rose Roman had given to Eilika, Damian carefully removed the excess stem.

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against her hair as he fixed the bloom into her dark bun.

Eilika’s heart fluttered, her gaze dropping as she felt the eyes of the servants watching them with collective awe.

Georgia entered the hall at that exact moment and stopped short, stunned by the sight. She could hardly believe that Damian had not only brought a bouquet for his wife but was openly tending to her.

”Mother,” Eilika whispered, her cheeks flushing.

Damian immediately stepped back, creating a formal distance as he cleared his throat. The intimate bubble they had shared for a moment vanished, though the red rose remained tucked firmly in Eilika’s hair as a visible mark of his favor.

Georgia smiled, her eyes twinkling as she approached. ”It seems I’ve interrupted a lovely morning.”

”No, mother,” Damian said. ”Roman insisted on me to do that. Let’s have breakfast. I have to leave urgently for the work,” he asserted.

Georgia chuckled at her son’s reaction and gazed at Eilika, then Roman.

’Something definitely changed between them,’ she thought, feeling happy.