A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

Chapter 42: Something Curious

Dorian himself was faintly surprised—but he merely dismissed it inwardly, assuming it to be some petty display of jealousy or restrained pique, unworthy of deeper thought.

Yvaine, however, immediately lowered herself in gratitude.

"Many thanks, dear sister. Your generosity truly knows no limit!"

"No need for that," Caelith replied lightly, offering her a small smile.

She couldn’t tell whether this newfound indifference was the result of her secret meeting with Rhaegar or a genuine emotion she finally allowed herself to feel.

When the ceremony concluded, the guests dispersed in clusters, their voices fading into the corridors.

Dorian did not linger.

Hand in hand with Yvaine, he departed toward the Garden Courtyard.

Caelith watched them go only for a fleeting moment before turning away.

"Let us return," she said quietly.

"Yes, my lady," Dolly answered with a nod, hurrying to follow.

In truth, Caelith felt neither jealousy nor bitterness.

With Yvaine now bound closely to Dorian’s side, she would be spared his annoying attentions—and in that, she gained both time and freedom to pursue her own designs.

***

Within the Garden Courtyard...

No sooner had they arrived than Yvaine slipped off her outer robe, her movements deliberate, calculated, seductive.

She stepped close to Dorian, her voice soft, her manner pliant.

"My lord..."

Dorian drew her into his arms, his hand settling at her waist with greedy impatience.

"You are ever considerate," he murmured. "Unlike your cousin."

Yvaine leaned into him, lowering her gaze as she reached to help him remove his outer robe, her tone gentle, almost self-effacing.

"My lord should not speak of her like that. My sister, as the principal wife, must attend to countless matters within the household. Perhaps she is simply... burdened beyond her will. You should be more forgiving."

She paused, as though hesitant—then continued, her voice light yet carefully placed.

"Though... I have noticed something curious."

Dorian’s brow lifted slightly. "Oh?"

"She seems to leave the estate rather often these days," Yvaine said, as if in passing. "At times, even Dolly does not know her whereabouts. For a lady of the inner quarters... such behavior is rather unusual, is it not?"

Her words lingered, subtle yet deliberate.

For a woman confined to the depths of a noble household, frequent, unexplained outings could hardly be considered proper.

And thus, with a few gentle phrases, a seed of suspicion was quietly sown.

"My lord, forgive me—I did not mean to pry into my sister’s affairs," Yvaine said, her voice soft and artfully contrite. "At first, I thought she had gone out to procure items for the concubinage arrangements... yet I later learned such matters were handled by the steward. If so, then her outings..."

Dorian’s expression darkened slightly.

"She has never once mentioned these excursions to me."

Yvaine lowered her gaze, as though reluctant to speak further, yet pressed on with careful hesitation.

"I cannot help but feel... that when she leaves, it is as though she goes to meet someone in secret. My sister is exceedingly beautiful—could it be that someone harbors improper intentions toward her?"

That single remark struck at the very heart of Dorian’s pride.

If his lawful wife were indeed meeting another man in secret, then not only would her reputation be ruined—his own name would be dragged through ridicule across the capital.

A cold glint surfaced in his eyes.

"It seems... I have underestimated her."

"My lord, do not be angered," Yvaine quickly added, her tone soothing as she slipped her arms lightly around his neck. "Surely my sister is not such a person. Still... it would do no harm for my lord to keep a closer watch."

Yet before she could draw nearer, Dorian abruptly pushed her aside.

Turning toward the doorway, he spoke sharply, "Servants!"

A young male servant appeared at once.

"From this day forward, keep watch over the Lady of the house. Report every instance she leaves the estate—no matter how trivial."

From beyond the lattice window, a shadow flickered briefly in acknowledgment.

"Yes, my lord."

A faint smile curved Yvaine’s lips.

Her purpose had been achieved.

She descended gracefully from the bed and turned back toward Dorian, her gaze soft, her expression filled with feigned devotion.

"My lord should retire early this evening," she murmured sweetly. "With me to attend you, I shall ensure your rest is most... agreeable."

Dorian’s expression eased, his irritation fading beneath her coaxing presence.

"You are indeed thoughtful," he said, drawing her back into his arms.

Once more, they disappeared behind the drawn curtains.

***

Elsewhere, beneath the quiet glow of the moon, Caelith sat alone by the window of her chamber, her gaze lifted toward the pale silver light spilling across the courtyard.

Yet her thoughts were far from tranquil.

Unbidden, her mind returned—again and again—to Rhaegar Thorne.

To his voice, his touch... the way he had looked at her.

Each memory lingered like a whisper she could not silence.

Outside, in the courtyard, Dolly stood speaking in hushed tones with a young maid.

"Have you heard?" the maid whispered eagerly. "The Shadow Guard tried a case today—a man who stole medicinal herbs. Turns out he’s from Easenwale County, in the south—same as you."

Dolly blinked in surprise. "What happened?"

"They say his mother was dying of consumption, and he had no silver to buy medicine, so he resorted to theft. But he was caught."

Dolly’s expression tightened. "Then... he must have been harshly punished."

"That’s what we all thought," the maid continued. "After all, Duke Thorne is known for being cold and unyielding. But instead, he sentenced the man to only twenty strokes and a year of labor. And—this is the strange part—he secretly arranged for rare medicines to be sent to the man’s home, and even summoned a skilled physician to treat his mother."

Dolly’s eyes widened in astonishment.

"Truly? That... that hardly sounds like something Duke Thorne would do..."

The maid nodded, lowering her voice even further.

"Exactly! Everyone says he is iron-hearted—but who would have thought... beneath that cold face, he might be softer than anyone expected?"