CHAPTER 36: SHADOWS IN THE BEDCHAMBER

Lady Eleanor’s POV

​The heavy velvet curtains were drawn tight against the cool night, trapping the faint scent of melted wax and damp sweat inside the room.

​I lay flat on my back beneath the weighted silk sheets, staring up at the carved wooden beams of the ceiling canopy. Beside me, Arthur’s breath was heavy and even, the quick rustle of linen signaling he was already moving away.

​Less than two minutes. That was all it ever took.

​Decades of marriage, and it was always the same rushed, mechanical ritual—a cold duty fulfilled with zero thought for my pleasure, my warmth, or my satisfaction. I simply lay there in the quiet dark, feeling hollow, aching with a quiet, bitter exhaustion I had carried for years.

​Arthur swung his legs over the side of the mattress, not bothering to offer a single touch or tender word, and padded across the plush rug toward the adjoining washroom. The sound of water pouring into the porcelain basin echoed softly through the open doorway.

​I pulled the sheet up over my bare chest, staring into the shadows. "Arthur... I think we should postpone the wedding."

​The splashing stopped. A moment later, Arthur stepped back into the bedchamber, drying his hands on a linen towel. His brow furrowed as he looked toward the bed. "Why?"

​"Because she lost her memory," I said softly, turning my head on the pillow to meet his gaze. "Because she does not remember anyone or anything. It feels profoundly inconsiderate to force a girl to the altar when she cannot even recall the face of the man she supposedly loves."

​Arthur let out a low, dry chuckle, tossing the towel onto a nearby chair before sliding back under the heavy blankets beside me. "It does not matter, wife."

​I frowned. "How can you say that?"

​"Look, you know I was not thrilled about the match initially," Arthur began, resting his head back against the carved headboard. "She has no family name, no estate, no political leverage. But if this is what Lucian wants, we must support him. He has given us his absolute best years—dedicating himself to studies, mastering trade agreements, managing the stables and the guard. He is ready to be the Duke."

​He turned to look at me, a sharp, calculating glint in his eyes. "And since the girl was a maid, she is used to hard work, efficiency, and managing a household. If you think about it rationally, she actually makes a rather convenient wife. The sooner they are wed, the sooner I can officially step down and pass the duchy to Lucian."

​A knot of disappointment tightened in my stomach. "Is that all you are concerned about? How this marriage benefits your retirement?"

​"No, Eleanor, of course not," Arthur replied smoothly, reaching out to pat my covered knee beneath the sheets. "I am thinking of how it benefits us. If Lucian takes over the estate duties, you and I will finally have time together. Believe me, wife, I miss our younger years—when we had freedom, before the province took over every second of our lives. Lately, it feels as though we barely see one another."

​I closed my eyes briefly, letting out a quiet, melancholy breath. "You have no idea how lonely it has been."

​"You see?" Arthur pressed, his voice softening with conviction. "Now you understand. The sooner Lucian takes his vows, the sooner we get our life back."

​I lay there in the dark, the conflict tearing at my conscience. I cared deeply for Eva, but the thought of escaping the suffocating walls of this heavy estate was a temptation I couldn't entirely ignore.

​"I do not know," I murmured, turning onto my side, away from him. "I will have to speak with Lucian about it in the morning."

​"Goodnight, wife," Arthur whispered, reaching over to pull the coverlet over my shoulder before settling back into his pillow.

​"Goodnight," I whispered into the dark, closing my eyes against the lingering ache in my chest, wondering if we were all simply using the fragile, memoryless girl down the hall to fix our own broken lives.

Lucian’s POV

​I stood by the edge of the large carved bed, unbuttoning my cuffs as the washroom door clicked open.

​Eva stepped out wearing a simple ivory nightgown. Her dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders, framing the pale skin of her face and the stark white bandage wrapped around her forehead. She walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, her hands folded tightly in her lap as she stared at the floorboards.

​I paused, watching her. "You do not wish to sleep?"

​She looked up at me, her eyes wide and quiet. "I... I want to read."

​I raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

​"I want to read," she repeated, her voice soft but steady. "I enjoy reading books every night before sleeping. I need to read before I lie down."

​A flicker of surprise ran through me, but I masked it instantly. "There are no books in this chamber; they are all in the grand library downstairs. Tomorrow morning, I will have the maids bring up a selection for you so you have a variety to choose from. Is that acceptable?"

​She offered a small, hesitant nod. "Yes. Thank you."

​She finally swung her legs onto the mattress, lying flat on her back and pulling the heavy coverlet up to her chest. I slid onto my side of the bed, resting my head against the pillows as we both stared up at the high, shadowed ceiling.

​"Lucian?" she whispered into the quiet room.

​"Yes?"

​"You said... you said we are to be married."

​"We are," I replied smoothly.

​She turned her head slightly toward me, her gaze searching my profile. "So... are we in love with each other?"

​A quiet, dry chuckle escaped my lips before I could stop it. "Let us just say... we are both benefiting from this arrangement."

​Eva’s brow furrowed, a faint shadow of confusion crossing her features. "So you mean... I am not marrying for love?"

​"It does not matter," I said flatly.

​"It does," she murmured, turning back to face the ceiling, her voice carrying a soft, stubborn edge. "I do not know... I just do not think I would ever choose to marry someone if it were not for love."

​"Love is a myth, Eva," I dismissed coldly, turning away from her. "Let us go to sleep. We have a great deal of preparation ahead of us tomorrow for the wedding."

​She went quiet for a moment. "Okay... My Lord."

​Silence settled over the chamber once more. Within minutes, the rhythm of her breathing softened, growing steady and deep as sleep finally claimed her fragile mind.

​I lay awake in the dark, listening to the quiet rise and fall of her chest, my mind spinning with sudden, ruthless clarity.

​This amnesia was a miraculous turn of luck. The ledgers, her fierce defiance, her hatred for me, the constant threat of exposure—it had all been wiped completely clean. The dangerous, unpredictable maid who had once backed me into a corner no longer existed.

​Now, she was a completely blank canvas.

​A dark, selfish sense of satisfaction settled in my chest. I wouldn't even need to arrange a quiet divorce down the road anymore. Without her past memories to fight me, I didn't have to stress myself or play defensive games. I could mold her into the precise, dutiful, and elegant wife I needed—the perfect Duchess to sit at my side, satisfy my mother, and secure my absolute power as heir.

​I closed my eyes, a faint, cold smile touching my lips as I drifted off to sleep, knowing the game was finally entirely in my hands.