CHAPTER 42: TEA AND TREASON

Eva’s POV

​Once again, Lucian had not slept in our shared chambers.

​I woke up alone in the massive four-poster bed, my heart hammering against my ribs from the exact same recurring nightmare. In the dream, I stood before a grand, cracked mirror, staring at my own reflection—only my reflection was screaming at me through the glass, pounding its fists and crying: Wake up! Remember who you are! Remember!

​Gasping for air, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the mattress.

​Ever since the shocking realization that I had once worked as a humble maid in this very estate, I could no longer bring myself to let the servants bathe or dress me. Even if my mind remained fractured, my soul revolted against the indignity of being waited on by people who had once been my equals. I bathed myself, dressed in a simple day gown, and styled my curly dark hair into neat, cascading waves.

​A quiet knock sounded at the door.

​I opened it to find a house maid bowing low. "My Lady, Her Grace, the Duchess Eleanor, requests your presence on the private balcony for morning tea."

​A wave of cold anxiety washed over me. I took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm the trembling of my hands. I told myself to act natural—whatever the Duchess did in her private life was none of my business, so long as it did not threaten my safety.

​I followed the maid to the high, sunlit balcony overlooking the grand rose gardens. Lady Eleanor sat at a small wrought-iron table, looking as regal and poised as ever in sweeping blue silk.

​"Eva, my dear, sit," Eleanor smiled warmly, gesturing to the chair across from her. "Take some tea."

​I offered a soft bow and sat down, smoothing my skirts.

​Eleanor picked up a delicate porcelain teapot, pouring a steaming cup for me. "You and I used to come here quite often, you know. We sat in these very chairs, drinking tea and watching the sunrise."

​"Really?" I murmured, looking around the pristine balcony. I took a slow sip, swallowing down my nervous tension. Was I truly that close to the Duchess of De Witt?

​"You were as close to me as anyone in this house," Eleanor said softly. She set her teacup down, her gaze searching my face with an intense, unreadable clarity. "I know what you saw yesterday, Eva. I know seeing it caused you to pass out."

​My breath hitched. I lowered my cup, my voice barely a whisper. "Whatever do you mean, My Lady?"

​Eleanor let out a soft, melodious laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, Eva. It is alright. You knew about my little arrangement long before you lost your memory. You just didn't know who I was having the affair with."

​My eyes widened in genuine shock. "I... I knew?"

​"Yes," Eleanor murmured, leaning back in her chair with a faint, bittersweet sigh. "And I am sorry. It must have triggered something violent in your mind to stumble upon us like that. Though I suppose it helped jog a piece of your past, even if I am a bit embarrassed you caught me in such an ungraceful position. A future Duchess should never have such scandalous thoughts of her mother-in-law."

​I let out a quiet, hesitant laugh, settling back into my seat. "I am not going to ask questions, My Lady. I do not think it is my place."

​Eleanor tilted her head, her sharp eyes studying me intently. "Well... that is because you treat yourself as my prospective daughter-in-law. But if you were my friend... would you not ask? Would you not judge me?"

​I paused, looking down at the amber tea in my porcelain cup before meeting her gaze directly.

​"I do not think judging a grown woman who has raised children and given years to a marriage is reasonable," I said quietly, my voice steady and surprisingly grounded. "If a woman chooses to seek affection elsewhere, the Duke must be providing quite a few weaknesses in the marriage. People do not act so irrationally without reason—especially not a decision with such heavy consequences."

​Eleanor froze. For a long, silent moment, she simply stared at me, a look of profound emotion washing over her elegant features.

​"You see, Eva?" Eleanor whispered, a soft, genuine smile spreading across her face. "That is precisely why you are my favorite. That is why I keep you so close. You are a remarkably reasonable, deeply empathetic girl. You deserve so much more in this world... and I know you will make a far finer Duchess than I ever was."

​I lowered my eyes, touched by her rare sincerity. "Thank you, Eleanor."

​She smiled, leaning forward to pat my hand gently. "Are you nervous about the wedding, my child? It is in just two days."

​I stared out over the balcony railing at the vast, cold estate below. The golden sunlight felt hollow, the impending ceremony looming over me like a sentence rather than a celebration.

​"I do not possess the joy required by most brides-to-be," I confessed softly, a bitter weight settling in my chest. "Perhaps my tragedy of lost memory is stopping every reason I ought to be happy."

"Well," Lady Eleanor offered, her voice soft and full of quiet hope, "a wedding is said to be a day of immense joy. Perhaps when the moment arrives, the joy will come with it."

​I managed a faint, bittersweet smile. "Perhaps."

​Eleanor leaned forward slightly, her demeanor shifting into something far more serious, her sharp eyes fixing on mine. "I must ask one thing of you, Eva. I do not wish anyone else in this household to know what you saw yesterday. Not even Lucian... and especially not Leo."

​"Of course, My Lady," I replied without hesitation, offering a firm nod. "Your secret is safe with me. I would never speak of it to a soul."

​A look of visible relief smoothed the tension from the Duchess’s brow. She reached across the small table and squeezed my hand gently. "Thank you, my dear. As the future Duchess, you and I will be spending a great deal of time together after the ceremony. You will need to learn your duties, your rights, and the full extent of your authority over Valenridge, as you will eventually take over my role entirely."

​I looked out over the vast, sweeping estate, the weight of her words settling heavily onto my shoulders.

​"It is going to be life-changing, is it not?" I murmured softly.

​Lady Eleanor smiled, a subtle, unreadable glint in her eyes as she lifted her teacup. "You have no idea, my child."

Eva’s POV

​After an agonizing hour of reading Chapter 10 with Miss McKeith, my mind was utterly numb with boredom.

​Restless, I decided to seek out the only other young woman in this sprawling, cold estate. I made my way down the hallway to Lady Genevieve’s chambers, taking a deep breath before knocking softly on the heavy carved door.

​"Come in," a light voice called out.

​I stepped inside. Lady Genevieve turned from her vanity mirror, her eyes widening in faint surprise. "Eva? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

​"I know it may seem like I stole your place," I began hesitantly, smoothing my skirts as I took a small step forward. "And I do not know how you feel about me... but I am quite bored, and I do not think I have ever been particularly good at making friends."

​Lady Genevieve tilted her head, a soft, amused smile touching her lips. "Do you wish to be my friend?"

​"If... if you will let me," I admitted softly.

​"Of course," Genevieve laughed softly, gesturing toward the velvet settee across from her. "I do not have friends either, to be truthful. Growing up, my mother always told me I was far too beautiful to have female friends. She said they would only grow envious and steal my future husband."

​I couldn't help but chuckle. "Your mother sounds like quite a character."

​"You have no idea," Genevieve sighed, leaning back against her cushions. "The only reason I am still lingering in the De Witt house—irrespective of how utterly embarrassing it will be for me on your wedding day—is because I simply cannot bear the thought of returning home to face my mother and father."

​"That sounds terribly difficult," I said gently.

​"They have always been hard on me," Genevieve murmured, her expression turning wistful. "They claim I do not appreciate the luxurious life they gave me. But I never asked for it. I would much rather have been born into a simple, low life at peace than live in constant fear of failing their expectations, never truly discovering who I am."

​"Well... the low life is not that grand either," I replied quietly. "I used to be a maid."

​Genevieve gasped, sitting up straight. "You remember?"

​"I am beginning to," I admitted with a faint nod. "And serving ladies like you... the ultimate goal was always to become someone like you. It was about survival."

​"I suppose that is the cruel irony of life," Genevieve mused softly. "The rich long for simplicity, and the poor long for wealth."

​"I do not think anyone can ever truly have it all," I offered.

​"No," Genevieve agreed, looking out the window with a quiet longing. "In my next life, I only wish for peace. Joy. And real, genuine parental love."

​My heart twinged. "I wish I knew what that felt like. I do not have many memories of parental love either. All I truly recall from growing up is working as a maid and knowing how to sew."

​Genevieve smiled gently, trying to lighten the mood. "At least you have a practical skill! All I know how to do is dance at lavish balls and flirt with men."

​My eyes widened, and I gasped softly. "You know how to flirt with men? You must teach me!"

​Genevieve burst into a delighted laugh. "How on earth did you manage to get Lucian to fall so desperately in love with you if you cannot flirt?"

​I froze, caught completely off guard. "He... he is in love with me?"

​"Why else would a high-born lord be marrying you, silly?" Genevieve giggled, shaking her head.

​I forced a polite smile, nodding along as she laughed. But inwardly, my mind spiraled into a cold, dark confusion.

​He certainly does not act like a man in love, I thought to myself, the image of Lucian's cold eyes and endless secrets flashing through my mind. Or is that truly what love is supposed to feel like?