The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

August studied the charcoal sketch his close confidant had presented to him, his eyes tracing the delicate lines of Eilika’s face with growing suspicion.

”Damian actually married her?” August demanded with disbelief.

”He did, my lord,” Eliseo replied. ”She is the daughter of a merchant currently drowning in debt. In high society, she was a pariah; no one was willing to court a woman in her position.”

”And yet, Damian conceded,” August mused. ”Uncover exactly what she is capable of and why he deigned to give her a wedding. I assumed Liliana’s death would have been enough to break him, to put him in his rightful place. It seems I miscalculated.”

”My lord, I have already compiled a dossier on Duchess Eilika,” Eliseo replied, stepping forward. ”The rumors suggest the Dowager Duchess handpicked her specifically for her nature. It was not about pedigree; it was about her genuine warmth toward the children.”

”That clarifies why Damian complied,” August stated, dropping the paper onto the table with a flick of his wrist.

”There is more, my lord. She possesses a selfless nature that is remarkably rare. Even Young Lord Roman has formed an immediate, deep attachment to her. From the very first day she stepped into the estate, she has anchored the boy in a way no one else could.”

August traced a finger over the sketch paper before finally lowering it. His gaze, however, remained fixed on her features, his mind clearly dissecting the information.

”Does she have a weakness?” he inquired, his voice cold.

”There is the scar on her face,” Eliseo replied. ”She has avoided all social functions and public balls for years. Society assumes she is self-conscious about her beauty, and rumors persist that the Duke holds her in contempt because of it.”

”I have no use for rumors,” August cut in, his tone hardening. ”A woman of her temperament isn’t broken by a mere mark on her skin. Her vanity is not the leverage we need. Find something more substantial. Her family, perhaps, that is where the weakness lies.”

”I have confirmed reports that the Duchess refused to assist her father,” Eliseo replied.

”Why?” August asked.

”Wilfred was involved in fraudulent dealings. My informant at the estate confirmed that she refused to intervene. She made it clear she would not shield a man who committed such crimes, regardless of their blood ties.”

August mused, a calculating expression crossing his face. ”She is far more interesting than I realized. Integrity, righteousness, and resolve. She embodies more than just a title.”

”I agree, my lord,” Eliseo replied.

August contemplated for a moment and pulled out the drawer. ”Only two days remain before my banishment concludes,” he said. ”Our first destination will be the Duke’s residence.”

Eliseo shifted uneasily. ”My lord, would that not be ill-advised? Duke Damian has no personal acquaintance with you.”

August’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as the bitterness resurfaced. ”But I know him. He is the reason of my exile, the very reason I have been forced into the shadows for so long.” He stared into the distance, a dark, possessive glint in his eyes. ”And there is a matter of unfinished business. Someone I once held dear resided within those walls. I intend to see her son, as well.”

Eliseo understood what he meant. ”Then, I will prepare for your departure.”

~~~~

Damian stepped out of his car as the evening settled over the estate. He walked into the main hall, but his stride came to an abrupt halt at the scene before him.

Eilika and Roman were engaged in a game, racing through the open space. She was chasing the boy, carefully pacing herself to keep him in the lead. Roman’s laughter filled the hall, sharp and genuine.

Seeing the two of them together, the tension of his day began to recede. Eilika had an ability to shift the atmosphere of the house, grounding the chaos of his life with a quiet, persistent warmth.

”Father!” Roman spotted Damian and dashed toward him, wrapping his arms around the Duke’s leg before beaming back at Eilika. ”Mama, you couldn’t catch me.”

”And for that, Roman earns some kisses,” Eilika said, lifting him away from Damian and peppering his cheeks with affectionate kisses.

Roman erupted into laughter, his giggles ringing through the hall. When Eilika finally stopped, she set him down and looked toward Damian. She stood upright, though Roman maintained a firm grip on her hand.

”Roman, you should go with your attendant now,” Eilika said, nudging him gently.

Roman nodded, offering a small, polite bow to both of them before trotting off to follow his caretaker.

”I will have tea and refreshments brought up for you,” Eilika said, turning her attention back to Damian.

Damian shook his head. ”No tea. It is far too hot for that today.”

She paused, considering his preference for a moment before nodding firmly. ”Then I will have fresh orange juice brought to the room instead.”

Damian offered a low hum of agreement and walked toward the master suite. He had a long list of pressing matters to discuss with Eilika, but the rare sight of her genuine laughter had stalled him; he could not bring himself to dampen her spirits with the weight of his burdens just yet.

Once inside the bedroom, he shed his overcoat and waistcoat, tossing them aside. He sat heavily in the armchair and began to unbutton his cuffs.

As he did, a piece of paper lying on the side table caught his eye. He picked it up, recognizing the uneven strokes as Roman’s handiwork.

At the bottom of the sketch, scrawled in a shaky, childish script, were the words: ”Mama, Father, and me.”

Damian smiled and lowered it to the table when Eilika entered the room with a tray in her hands. She was awestruck to see Damian like that. His high chocolate brown boots on the fitted trousers, folded sleeves and half-open shirt.

”Eilika,” he called her name, bringing her out of the daze.

”The juice,” she whispered and lowered the tray onto the table.

He thanked her and picked it up. Taking a few sips, he saw Eilika started gathering his clothes when he felt something was wrong with the juice.

”Did you prepare it?”

”I asked a servant,” Eilika answered. ”Why?” She turned around.

”Nothing,” he whispered.