Evening was about to settle in. The day's work had ended early, and there he was—Adrian—sitting quietly in the car, his gaze fixed on the road with a mysterious, unreadable intensity. Edwin had grown accustomed to this new kind of calm from his master, as if Adrian were pondering a dilemma too complex to fully grasp.
Finally, they passed the road leading to the manor, and Adrian's eyes wandered to the sea on the other side. The sun, brushing the horizon with warm orange hues, gave the surface of the water a seductive glow. When the car stopped in front of the manor, Adrian stepped out and buttoned his suit with careful precision.
But, unusually, he suddenly changed direction, heading toward the path leading to the back garden.
Edwin hesitated for a moment but followed silently, quietly, as his master moved.
A cool breeze swept through the garden, stirring the leaves in soft, uneven rhythms, as though nature itself was breathing slowly. The sun retreated slightly behind elongated shadows, tinting the round table and the white teacups with a faint golden light.
Neris sat before the table, her hands wrapped around her cup, observing every small movement of the maid pouring tea. Each gesture, every rustle of a leaf, the swing of a cup upon its saucer—it all felt like a hidden message, pointing toward something larger, something she could not yet understand.
Perhaps she felt calm and at ease after Henry and Mary's arrival, but everything here reminded her that she was not in her father's palace. The serenity was fragile, a thin crust barely concealing an inner volcano.
Henry sat across from her, smiling naturally, engaged in conversation with her and with Cecile, who responded only half-present. It had been many days since she had seen the Duke, and that weighed on her—it was why she had come to Carlton.
Suddenly, Henry sensed a shift in the atmosphere through the subtle movements of the staff. He could not ignore the unexpected heaviness in the air, as if the very atmosphere had thickened.
And then—Adrian appeared at the entrance of the garden. Steadfast, confident. Behind him, Edwin advanced with quiet, shadowlike steps, yet even his presence could not diminish the Duke's commanding aura.
Neris saw him and felt a sudden unease. She watched as he approached, steady and sure, unable to deny the aura of power surrounding him—a presence that preceded his very arrival.
He stopped before the table, his gaze precise, missing nothing. Every movement calculated, every step deliberate, a decision made with no turning back. He was here to greet the friends of his special advisor.
They all rose politely. He returned their greeting with elegance, then pulled Henry's chair—opposite Neris—and sat.
A servant swiftly placed a fresh cup of tea before Adrian. He looked at Neris and asked,
"Are Miss Neris's friends enjoying a comfortable stay?"
Cecile replied quickly,
"Yes, Carlton is beautiful, and the Duke's manor is comfortable. I am honored that you accepted our invitation."
She adjusted herself to introduce further:
"I am Cecile Holsten, Neris's elder sister."
Adrian gave a subtle nod, then glanced at Henry, who met his gaze. His attention returned to Neris, as if silently confirming: he would interact with them only through her.
Neris felt a shiver race through her. Her heart skipped its normal rhythm, yet she tried to maintain a composed exterior, crafting an invisible barrier between herself and his presence. Every look from him was a double-edged message: power, warning, and a hidden care.
Henry, despite his outward calm, felt unease. Something about Adrian's presence quietly redrew the boundaries, forcing him to reevaluate his place in the scene—though his mind could not understand why.
Cecile, meanwhile, observed carefully. Every attempt she made to capture his attention was met with a simple nod or a glance back at Neris, as if Adrian delegated her response entirely to the younger sister. She noticed. She understood.
Everything revolved around her… only her. His gaze was indifferent to anyone else, yet sharp and analytical toward Neris, as though measuring her every move. Cecile felt the sting of exclusion, even under his polished courtesy. She wanted more than this. So, like Neris, she simply observed him, trying to catch any signal, any unspoken word that could reveal his intentions.
A gentle breeze passed again, tense and electric. Edwin leaned toward Adrian, whispering something indistinct. Adrian nodded quietly, leaned slightly toward Neris, and said,
"I'll wait for you in my office once you're done here, Miss Holsten."
She nodded, and he took a measured step away from the table, acknowledging them silently as he buttoned his suit again. He departed, Edwin behind him.
The tension lingered. Even after he had vanished from view, Neris remained on edge. His unusual request—it was the first time he had asked her to visit his office. Something… had shifted.
Henry felt it too. Anger simmered within him at her sudden quietness. He could not call it fear—he knew her well, intelligent and strong—but it was the influence of that man.
As if he commanded silence and conversation alike, asserting authority without breaking decorum. The thought fueled Henry's frustration.
He observed the surroundings: the servants rose lightly, their eyes toward the Duke's vanishing point, awaiting some new instruction. Everything felt more cautious than usual.
He turned to Neris, attempting to ease the mood with conversation, yet he noticed her extreme silence—Adrian's presence lingered even in absence.
Cecile felt a sharp pang in her chest. It wasn't merely Adrian ignoring her while present—it was as though the air itself erased her from the scene.
After returning from the garden, Neris approached Jason to inquire about the Duke. He told her he had been waiting in his office since arriving. She knocked lightly and entered.
She found him standing by the window, having removed his jacket. His white shirt and waistcoat gave him a less formal, yet commanding, presence. He turned calmly toward her and approached slowly, leaning his back against the edge of his library table.
Neris asked,
"You requested I come, Duke."
"Yes."
She stood in the middle of the room, curiosity sharpened. He clasped his hands before him and said,
"In at least three months' time, I will arrange a grand ball within the manor. This event is extremely important. I want you to take responsibility for organizing it… I want you to be the hostess of this ball."
Neris arched her brow, puzzled.
"What do you mean, to be the hostess, Your Grace?"
"As you just heard."
A heavy silence fell in the office. Broken only by the faint hum of a newly installed lamp. Neris felt the ground shift beneath her feet. The position of 'hostess' was reserved for the Duke's wife, his mother, or a woman of significant family standing.
"Your Grace…" Neris began, her voice betraying astonishment she could not contain.
"This request… it breaks all protocol. My role as an advisor does not grant me the right to—"
Adrian cut her off, moving slowly to stand directly before her. Only a single step separated them, close enough for her to catch the scent of his distinctive cologne. He looked deep into her eyes and spoke, low and commanding, like distant thunder:
"In Carlton, I set the rules. I determine who is entitled to what. As for you… you are part of this system now, inside Carlton."
He paused, then added, eyes studying her astonished features:
"I want a ball that will tell guests from the capital exactly who Dyssehard is. I want them to see my advisor's intelligence reflected in every detail of this event. I will grant you keys to the stores, full authority over the budget."
Neris felt the weight of responsibility press on her chest—but another sensation burned within her. A challenge. A fire of determination.
Was he testing her? Or was he asserting her as part of his system, after this first major task?
And most importantly… how would the former Duchess Helene and his mother react? She had only met them once, and had already noticed Helene's subtle lack of welcome.