‘Good heavens. Is it really all right to be sending me all of this? These are family business affairs — they should be confidential. He’s telling me everything just because I’m his fiancée. He wouldn’t even share this much with a wife.’
Somehow, without quite meaning to, she and Emily had ended up reviewing the Duke’s business documents together.
She had known he was shrewd and commercially gifted — but not quite to this degree.
“Oh — the sun has already set?”
“Already? Where did the time go?”
Reviewing what was technically a letter — though it read more like a stack of official documents — had consumed three hours without either of them noticing. And there was still a considerable amount left to get through.
“At this rate it’ll take another half a day to finish all of this. How am I ever going to get dumped at this pace? I have another date tomorrow too.”
“You really are determined to get broken up with, aren’t you, Miss.”
“Of course.”
“Hmm. I’d rather not suggest this particular method, but I suppose there’s nothing else for it.”
“Do you have something better?”
She wasn’t especially hopeful. This was a man who had not been deterred by obsessive correspondence. She herself would have ended things long ago.
“It does require some effort on your part, Miss. But the effect, I think, will be definitive.”
“Definitive? Truly?”
“Yes.”
Emily was not a person who said things she didn’t mean. She chose her words with care, offered only what needed to be said, and said it plainly. For someone like that to express this level of confidence?
“Tell me! Right now!”
She drummed the table and leaned forward urgently, grasping at this last straw.
“There’s a saying that predates the founding of the Empire itself. That men are like dogs.”
“Dogs?”
“Yes. Do you know why?”
Emily regarded her with the eyes of someone about to deliver a lecture.
She scratched the back of her head, somewhat sheepish.
“I couldn’t say.”
Emily began to speak, enunciating each word with deliberate care, as though she wanted each one remembered.
“Chase them and they run. Run from them and they give chase.”
“So — running away actually produces the opposite of the intended effect?”
“Precisely. Which means, Miss, that right now you need to be the one doing the chasing. You need to pursue the Duke so relentlessly that ‘he’ is the one who gives out first.”
“How? What do I actually do? I’ll do whatever you tell me.”
“To begin with — something like those letters won’t work. Not anything that can be delegated.”
“Delegated?”
“Yes. The itinerary reports — those could easily have been written by his aide, couldn’t they?”
“Now that you mention it — you’re right.”
“And the meal logs could have been compiled by kitchen staff working from a menu list.”
She was completely correct.
“So going forward, Miss, the important thing is that ‘you’ act directly.”
“Yes, yes — but what exactly? What should I be doing?”
Emily paused briefly before answering.
“Someone like the Duke, who spends so much time alone — he likely finds the presence of other people deeply uncomfortable.”
Something clarified in her mind at those words.
“You’re right. He has a severe aversion to being touched by anyone, and an extreme intolerance for having his personal space invaded.”
“My, you know him rather well.”
“I — I’ve heard the rumors. And frankly, one look at him and it’s obvious. He seems like someone who would be extraordinarily particular about things.”
“That does seem to be the case. Either way — what if you were to invade his personal space?”
‘His personal space.’
What would that mean, in Kael’s case? What was within its borders?
“Somewhere he frequents regularly — his study, perhaps. Or the estate itself.”
“So you’re saying I should turn up constantly, often enough that he finds it genuinely grating?”
“Yes. Tell him you need to be nearby to feel at ease — that you get anxious otherwise — and simply follow him around. Make a nuisance of yourself.”
Emily’s suggestion had undeniable logic.
The letters had been a form of contact, yes — but one requiring no face-to-face effort. All it took was picking up a pen and sending something off.
“Though — it does sound quite exhausting. What if I go too far and things don’t end with just a broken engagement?”
“That’s something you’ll have to calibrate as you go, Miss.”
“All right. I’ll try it. Emily.”
“It is, I should note, a somewhat discourteous approach.”
“Hmm?”
“Personally, I think showing up without prior notice this time might not be a bad idea.”
“Is — is that really all right? Announcing yourself before visiting someone’s home is the most basic courtesy there is.”
And this particular someone was Kael.
“I don’t know the Duke well, Miss.”
“No.”
“But from everything I’ve seen, I suspect ordinary measures simply won’t penetrate. You’ve seen those documents.”
She nodded, conceding the point.
“So I think going early tomorrow would be best. Don’t you think he’ll find it rather disagreeable?”
“But we already made arrangements for him to come for me tomorrow. Am I supposed to just ignore that?”
“Yes. Go to him before he can come to you. What do you think?”
“All right. I’ll just show up unannounced. I’m a little afraid of what his reaction might be, but…”
* * *
“Miss Ivelina? You’re early — the appointed time hasn’t come yet. Has something happened?”
Hugo looked up in mild surprise.
“Oh! Nothing bad, I promise. I just — I wanted to see the Duke sooner. I’m sorry, Hugo. I hope I haven’t put you in a difficult position?”
She had no desire for anyone else to bear the consequences of her situation with Kael. If Hugo was going to get an earful from Kael over this, she was fully prepared to turn around and go home right now.
“Not in the slightest, Miss. Though — the Duke is still in his bedroom at the moment. If anything, he might be rather—”
‘Bedroom.’
The word lodged itself in her mind and crowded out the rest of Hugo’s sentence. Whatever he was adding — it was probably something about the Duke not necessarily being pleased — was lost entirely.
As long as Hugo wasn’t going to be put in a difficult position, she didn’t particularly mind.
“Hugo — do you think you could take me to the Duke’s bedroom right now?”
“Ah, well. It being morning and all, it might be a bit — risky for you, Miss—”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, n-never mind. I’ll show you up, Miss.”
Hugo led her through the estate and up to the second floor corridor, stopping at the very last door at the end of the hall.
“Enjoy your visit, then, Miss Ivelina.”
“Thank you, Hugo!”
And once again, Hugo receded at remarkable speed.
She had the vague sense that she’d missed a few things he’d said — but it probably wasn’t anything important.
More to the point: what if Kael decided to kill her for bothering him first thing in the morning?
‘Knock. Knock.’
She took a deep breath and knocked carefully.
“Come in.”
She didn’t hesitate.
With every ounce of resolve she had, she threw the door open and stepped inside.
“I’m sorry! I know it’s rude, but I missed you too much to wait.”
This was the minimum viable apology. Barging into his bedroom and saying nothing at all was likely to make Kael do something she wouldn’t recover from.
But.
“…”
“Oh — I’m ‘so sorry’!”
She pulled the door shut with a bang.
She had come face to face with Kael — naked to the waist, a robe hanging loose around his lower half. His hair was wet. Water was running down in slow trails over the sculpted lines of his chest.
She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead firmly against the door.
‘Why does nothing ever go right for me…’
And then — from the other side of the door — the heavy, unhurried sound of footsteps.
She had just begun to lift her head from the door when the latch turned. The door swung inward, and her body tipped forward with it.
“Oh—”
She almost lost her balance entirely.
Her gaze landed directly in front of her.
The robe had parted. The sculpted, contoured lines of his body were fully visible, not hidden in the slightest.
She was flustered — genuinely — but her eyes settled there before she could stop them, drawn by something between alarm and involuntary aesthetic appreciation. She let her gaze travel up slowly.
At the end of that upward journey: damp, heavy black hair, half-fallen across his forehead, and beneath it — those red eyes.
“Where do you think you’re running to.”
* * *
