"Princess, what you describe isn't kindness. It's merely honesty." Alexio's voice carried a note of frustration. "I don't like lies becoming variables in my transactions. Deception creates unpredictability. I avoid it."
"But can't honesty and fairness *be* expressions of kindness?" Adelina tilted her head, studying him. "I think it's remarkably kind of you to treat me—someone who brings nothing to this arrangement—as an equal partner in the deal."
Alexio still didn't seem convinced.
The princess found this oddly amusing.
Didn't everyone enjoy receiving compliments? She had never encountered someone who actively *refused* praise, who seemed almost offended by kind words directed at them. It was as though the very concept of being seen favorably made him uncomfortable.
She decided not to press further. Convincing the Duke of his own virtues wasn't her responsibility. All that mattered was that she recognized them—and that she carried her gratitude quietly in her heart.
Adelina turned her attention to the contract in her hands, scanning its contents once more.
The terms remained largely unchanged from what they had discussed in the carriage—favorable to her in almost every regard. The only clauses that deviated were the ones she had expected: the stipulation that their marriage would produce no children, and the provision designating Alexio's illegitimate child as the official heir.
For any ordinary noblewoman, these clauses would have been dealbreakers—non-negotiable points that no amount of wealth could compensate for. But Adelina was not an ordinary noblewoman.
"I agree to all the terms." She held the contract out to him. "Shall I sign now?"
Alexio accepted the papers but made no move to produce a pen. Instead, he folded them carefully and tucked them back into his coat pocket.
"It would be cruel to ask a bride in her wedding dress to sign legal documents."
Despite the words themselves, his tone carried no cruelty whatsoever. If anything, there was a dry humor beneath the formality—a gentleness he probably didn't realize he was showing.
Adelina suppressed a smile.
The Duke of Pembroke she had known from newspapers and gossip columns was supposed to be rude. Ill-mannered. A promiscuous man with countless affairs and a reputation for treating people as instruments of profit.
Yet the man standing before her now—the man who had just declined to make her sign papers while wearing a wedding gown—seemed nothing like those descriptions.
Perhaps her judgment was clouded by gratitude. Perhaps she was simply seeing what she wanted to see in a business partner who had appeared at precisely the right moment.
But Adelina believed in his kindness.
Even if he didn't.
"I will be a good duchess," she said quietly. "For as long as our marriage lasts."
"Even if you don't make such efforts—"
"Yes, I know." She interrupted him gently. "Even then, you won't hold me accountable. There are no penalties in the contract for failing to perform." She met his gaze steadily. "But you have nothing to worry about. I understand exactly what is required of me."
The Duke had made his hopes clear: Adelina would serve as an excellent advertisement for his products. Every gown she wore, every jewel that adorned her, every carriage she rode in—all would be scrutinized, desired, imitated by the masses.
Looking flawless in front of audiences was something she had practiced her entire life. It was, perhaps, the only skill she possessed that truly qualified as *useful*.
"I want to fulfill my duties as a duchess to the best of my ability." She straightened her shoulders, feeling the weight of the wedding gown settle more firmly across them. "I will also care for your child."
The last statement seemed to catch Alexio off guard.
His expression shifted—surprise flickering briefly across his carefully controlled features before disappearing behind his usual mask.
"Where is your son now?" Adelina continued, curious. "What about his mother? What is his personality like?"
For a long moment, Alexio didn't respond.
"I didn't think..." He spoke slowly, as though selecting each word with care. "That you would be interested in learning about the child. You won't meet him regardless, so there's no need to concern yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"After he's entered into the Pembroke family register, he'll be sent to boarding school."
It wasn't unusual for heirs of noble families to attend boarding schools. Such institutions provided excellent education, valuable connections, and a degree of independence that couldn't be found under parental roofs.
But something about the current situation struck Adelina as odd.
For Alexio to have a son old enough for boarding school, he would have had to father the child quite young. The princess tried to imagine a five-year-old, perhaps six—a small figure with dark hair like his father's, violet eyes full of mischief or solemnity.
"How old is your child?" she asked. "What age do boarding schools even accept students?"
"He's seven."
"*Seven?*" Adelina's eyes widened. "How can you send a seven-year-old to boarding school? Are there even institutions that accept children so young?"
Alexio chuckled softly at her incredulous expression.
"You'll learn the answer to your questions if and when you meet him." His voice carried private amusement. "I suspect your doubts will gradually dissipate."
Before she could press further, he reached out.
His fingers brushed the necklace resting against her collarbone—adjusting its position, perhaps, or simply examining how the gemstone caught the light. When his hand made contact with her bare skin, Adelina froze.
She knew, rationally, that there was nothing inappropriate about the touch. He was simply checking the jewelry he had given her, ensuring it sat correctly.
And yet—
Her breath shortened. Her pulse quickened. Heat crept up her neck despite herself.
She expected him to step back after completing his inspection.
Instead, he moved closer.
"Princess." His voice had dropped to something quieter. More intimate. "I have a personal question I would like answered."
"A question?"
"Yes. I'm curious why a lady of such noble birth would so readily agree to a contract like this one."
Adelina considered the question carefully. "Will the terms change depending on my answer?"
"Not at all. As I said—this is a personal matter." Alexio adjusted the necklace one final time, his gaze fixed on where the diamond rested against her throat. "Why did you agree so easily? Perhaps my future bride has weaknesses or flaws I'm unaware of?"
With each word, Adelina felt her composure slipping.
Her lashes fluttered nervously. Her hands, clasped before her, tightened their grip on each other.
She had never been good at concealing her emotions. Her face betrayed every thought, every uncertainty, every secret she tried to keep.
Alexio was clearly aware of this.
He was *watching* for it.
"If you think about it," she managed, "it doesn't really matter."
"I repeat: this is purely personal." He released the necklace and stepped back, creating distance between them once more. "You are under no obligation to answer, Princess."
He adjusted his coat—a small, precise movement—and inclined his head.
"Well then. I'll see you at the wedding ceremony."
It was a polite farewell.
Like everything else about him: courteous, controlled, and utterly impossible to read.
---
## — The Wedding —
The ceremony was spectacular.
A magnificent hall filled with flowers and candlelight. A bride in a gown that seemed spun from moonlight and diamonds. A groom in black so impeccable he might have been carved from shadow itself. Guests dripping with jewels and titles, their whispered conversations creating a constant hum beneath the soaring music.
And gossip—*so much gossip*—spreading to every corner of the kingdom before the vows were even complete.
It was, by every measurable standard, the perfect wedding.
The moment the ceremony concluded, the newlyweds departed for their honeymoon: a private island owned by the Duke of Pembroke, accessible only by ship, far removed from the chaos of the capital.
But even paradise could not escape the world's attention.
Back on the mainland, the press published daily coverage of the ducal couple. Everyone wanted the latest developments—the smallest detail about what the Duke and his new Duchess were doing, wearing, eating. A single mention of their names guaranteed that every copy of every newspaper would sell out within hours.
The phenomenon quickly earned a name: *Adelina Fever*.
Everything the princess had worn on her wedding day became the subject of obsessive fascination. The style of her gown. The cut of her jewelry. The particular shade of blue in her eyes, and whether it could be replicated with cosmetics. Merchants scrambled to produce imitations. Dressmakers worked through the night to meet demand.
Anything Adelina touched—no matter how insignificant—sold like wildfire.
---
## — The Island —
The bustle of the capital seemed impossibly distant from the villa's terrace.
Adelina sat in a cushioned chair, surrounded by newspapers and gossip columns spread across a small tea table. Sophie had arranged for their delivery—knowing how much her mistress loved to read, and recognizing that this beautiful island, for all its charms, lacked a proper library.
Recent editions were difficult to obtain on such short notice, but papers from a few days prior served well enough. They allowed Adelina to track developments, to understand how the world was reacting to her sudden elevation.
*I have become exactly what the Duke hoped for*, she thought, scanning the headlines. *The perfect doll.*
Alexio's investment in the wedding might not have turned a profit yet—such calculations took time—but it seemed unlikely his business would suffer any loss. The returns were already materializing in the form of frenzied consumer demand.
Adelina set down the newspaper and turned her gaze toward the sea.
From the terrace, one could see the endless expanse of water stretching toward the horizon. Turquoise shallows gave way to deeper blues, and beyond that, a vastness that seemed to swallow the sky itself.
"So strange," she murmured to no one.
Despite the chaos unfolding across the ocean—the gossip, the fever, the kingdom's obsession with her every move—life on the island remained impossibly peaceful. The days drifted past like clouds across a summer sky. Mornings filled with quiet breakfasts. Afternoons spent reading or walking along the shore. Evenings watching the sun sink into the water in explosions of orange and gold.
It felt like a dream.
A beautiful, suspended dream from which she would eventually have to wake.
"The Duke will visit again tonight."
The thought arrived without warning, settling into her chest with a weight she couldn't quite identify.
Alexio had been... *present*. Throughout the honeymoon, he had appeared at unexpected moments—joining her for meals, accompanying her on walks, sitting beside her on this very terrace as the stars emerged overhead.
He was courteous. Attentive. Unfailingly polite.
And yet she still felt she knew almost nothing about him.
"This is really... strange."
Tomorrow their honeymoon would end. They would return to the mainland, to the Pembroke estate, to the reality of their arrangement.
Adelina drummed her fingers against the terrace railing, replaying the time they had spent together.
---
## — Three Days Earlier —
"Welcome back, young master!"
The greeting rang out the moment the villa's doors swung open.
An elderly woman stood in the entrance hall, her round face creased with genuine warmth. Her eyes sparkled with affection as she looked past Adelina to focus on Alexio.
*Young master?*
Adelina's eyes widened at the unfamiliar form of address. She turned to observe Alexio's reaction—and found the Duke wearing an expression of long-suffering resignation.
The elderly woman noticed the princess's confusion. Her hands flew to her mouth, eyes going round with theatrical dismay.
"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" She laughed, clearly not sorry at all. "Now that you're properly married, I shouldn't call you that anymore. Old habits, you understand—I've known him since he was a little boy running through these halls with skinned knees and muddy shoes. *Ho-ho-ho.*"
A soft sigh emanated from somewhere behind Adelina.
She glanced back.
Alexio stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the afternoon light. His expression remained carefully neutral, but there was something in the set of his shoulders—a slight tension, perhaps embarrassment—that she had never seen before.
The formidable Duke of Pembroke.
The man who never lost a single klon.
The cold, calculating businessman feared throughout the kingdom.
And here was a woman who remembered him as a child with skinned knees.
Adelina felt something shift in her chest—a warmth she hadn't expected.
Perhaps, she thought, there was more to her husband than met the eye.
Perhaps, given time, she might actually come to *know* him.
---