Hearing such an insolent response from his typically composed master, Simeon's mouth fell open in astonishment. He caught himself quickly, however, and practically bounced on his heels in agitation.
"How can you say such a thing?!"
"What?" Alexio's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "Aristocrats are accustomed to criticizing married couples for any display of intimacy, calling it vulgar—yet they watch those same relationships with barely concealed fascination. Meanwhile, producing an heir is considered one's most sacred duty." He chuckled, sliding his sunglasses back into place. "Isn't that the very definition of hypocrisy?"
The gesture was unmistakable: a clear signal that the Duke had no intention of continuing this conversation.
But Simeon had not survived years in Alexio Pembroke's service by giving up easily.
"Your Grace, you're certainly familiar with this island and the villa. But for the lady, everything here is new." He pressed on, undeterred. "She's spent the entire week confined within those walls. Doesn't that trouble you in the slightest?"
"Simeon." Alexio lowered his glasses just enough to pin his assistant with a piercing stare. "At what point did you transition from being *my* assistant to serving as the princess's advocate?"
His gaze carried an unmistakable warning: *Do not push me further.* But Simeon had his own compelling reasons for insisting.
"Do you have any idea how relentlessly Mrs. Tiziana has been pestering me?" His voice rose with barely contained exasperation. "Every single day, she corners me to ask why you abandon your wife while enjoying your solitary pursuits. She calls it *terrible*, Your Grace. Her word, not mine."
At the mention of Madame Tiziana, something shifted in Alexio's expression. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and he turned away to hide what might have been amusement. Simeon understood immediately why his master found this particular detail so entertaining.
"It's been a week since we arrived on this island, correct?"
The honeymoon was meant to last a fortnight—they were already halfway through. Madame Tiziana, who had been observing the couple's arrangement with hawkish attention the entire time, was clearly running low on patience.
"Truly," Alexio mused, "her persistence is unmatched."
He had assumed Simeon would manage the situation. Evidently, he had overestimated his assistant's ability to withstand the formidable housekeeper.
"You might express yourself more accurately," Alexio continued, tilting his head as if correcting a child. "What do you mean by 'solitary pursuits'? I'm *working*, Simeon."
The Duke's attention drifted toward the endless expanse of azure sea stretching before them. Simeon exhaled heavily, watching his master fidget with something in his hands—a folded map, perhaps, or preliminary sketches. The man was clearly lost in thought, plotting yet another venture.
Alexio's words were true enough. He planned to transform this beautiful island into an exclusive private resort for the aristocracy. The eastern portion, where the villa stood, would remain his personal sanctuary. The western half would become a playground for the wealthy elite. This was precisely why the island had been chosen for their honeymoon—it allowed him to survey the land while maintaining appearances.
Since the collapse of the old caste system and the rise of capitalism, people increasingly sought to broadcast their status through consumption. In this new era, merely draping oneself in expensive fabrics or glittering jewels no longer sufficed. What the elite craved now was *exclusivity*—the inaccessible, the rare, the impossible-to-obtain.
Alexio Pembroke was a businessman who understood this hunger intimately. He knew precisely how to profit from the vanity and vices of high society, all while remaining an outsider to their world.
"Members of the aristocracy would be *delighted* to possess their own private beach," Alexio said, more to himself than to Simeon. "Don't you think?"
"If Your Grace believes so, then surely it must be true." Simeon's reply was flat, tinged with resignation.
In truth, Alexio never miscalculated. When Simeon had first entered the Duke's service, he'd been awed by his master's almost supernatural business acumen. He had harbored hopes that by working diligently under such guidance, he might one day achieve similar success. But months of close observation had dismantled that fantasy entirely. Alexio Pembroke's triumphs were built upon judgment and intuition that seemed to operate on an entirely different plane. It was innate talent—a gift. And like most ordinary people, Simeon had not been blessed with such a thing.
"Perhaps you could dedicate just *one day* to the princess?" Simeon made one final attempt, his tone now bordering on pleading. "Go fishing together, swim in the sea, enjoy a picnic on the beach—" He stopped abruptly, squinting toward the distant shoreline. His brow furrowed.
"Your Grace... there appears to be someone out there."
"Simeon, perhaps it's time you invested in spectacles." Alexio clapped a hand on the man's shoulder with a condescending *tsk*. His private island could not possibly have guests he hadn't personally approved. The eastern portion was closed to all outsiders, and the western half remained inaccessible even to those who resided permanently on the estate.
"No, truly..." Simeon shielded his eyes against the glare. "There *is* someone there. A woman? Is that... the princess?"
As the description grew more detailed, the Duke's expression sharpened. He turned his head, contemplating whether Adelina had grown so restless that she'd ventured out to find him.
But the figure that caught his eye was decidedly *not* his wife.
"As far as I can tell," Simeon murmured, "that is *definitely* not the princess."
"No?"
"Absolutely not."
*Tch.* Alexio clicked his tongue in irritation and turned back toward the sea, as if hoping the unwelcome sight might simply vanish. It did not.
From the distance, the woman waved her arm with theatrical enthusiasm and shouted across the sand. "Alexio! It's *me*!"
Simeon's eyes widened in horrified recognition. He leaned closer to the Duke, voice dropping to an urgent whisper.
"Oh my God. That's Lady Helena. What in heaven's name is she doing *here*?"
---
Adelina blinked at the hand extended before her, momentarily uncertain how to respond.
Curly red hair tumbled beautifully from beneath the woman's wide-brimmed sun hat, catching the light like flames. Her smile was as bright and overwhelming as the afternoon sun itself.
"I'm Helena Crino, Princess! It's *such* a pleasure to meet you!"
The greeting was cheerful—almost aggressively so. The stranger's broad, dazzling smile radiated a warmth that seemed to demand reciprocation.
While Adelina hesitated, searching for an appropriate response, Alexio stepped forward. He clicked his tongue sharply and pulled back the hand Helena had thrust toward the princess.
"It's impolite to greet a member of the royal family before being properly introduced, Helena."
"Oh!" Helena winced as if struck, then quickly ducked her head in an exaggerated bow. "Forgive me, Princess! I'm not particularly well-versed in royal etiquette. I was simply so *thrilled* to meet you that I forgot myself entirely. Please, do excuse my rudeness."
"No, there's no need to be so formal," Adelina replied, her voice carefully measured.
Judging by the woman's surname, she must be related to her husband somehow. There was little point in creating unnecessary tension. The princess glanced at Alexio, hoping for clarification about their connection, and watched as the Duke exhaled slowly before releasing Helena's wrist.
"This is my step-cousin."
"The late Duchess was my aunt," Helena elaborated brightly. "She was so wonderfully kind to me that Alexio and I were practically raised as brother and sister—even though we share no blood relation whatsoever."
Adelina found herself slightly taken aback. *Cousins without any blood connection?*
"Oh, yes—I'm adopted," Helena explained, noting the princess's confusion. Her tone remained impossibly cheerful, as if discussing the weather rather than her origins. "I was raised in an orphanage before the Crino family took me in. They did me an extraordinary kindness."
Despite the gravity of such a revelation, Helena's breezy delivery somehow made it seem far less weighty than it was.
The Duke raised an eyebrow and summarized the situation with characteristic brevity.
"We see each other perhaps once every few years. There's no need for you to concern yourself with her, Princess."
His tone was cold, deliberately distant—a clear line drawn in the sand. But to Adelina's perceptive eye, her husband's willingness to speak so openly about his family in her presence suggested something else entirely: there existed a genuine closeness between Helena and Alexio, one that transcended his dismissive words.
Helena, utterly unruffled by the Duke's frigid demeanor, continued the conversation with undiminished enthusiasm.
"Oh my *God*, Alexio! '*Princess*'? Is that truly how you still address your wife, even after marriage?"
"Of course." His expression didn't waver. "I intend to address the princess that way for the rest of my life."
Clearly irritated by his cousin's relentless chatter, the Duke pressed his palm against his forehead and sighed.
"Stop making a spectacle of yourself and go to the guest quarters."
"What?" Helena's eyebrows shot upward, her expression one of theatrical offense. "The *guest* room? There's nothing there—not even a proper pool! I want to stay in my usual suite."
"Helena Crino." Alexio's voice dropped, taking on a warning edge. "The princess and I are currently on our *honeymoon*. Surely you didn't arrive on this island with the intention of disrupting our intimate life?"
As he spoke, he moved naturally to stand beside Adelina, his arm settling around her shoulders with easy familiarity. Their posture made it appear as though the princess had melted into the Duke's embrace, her smaller frame nearly swallowed by his presence.
Helena's cheeks flushed crimson.
"W-what are you *saying*? I... I would never—!" She faltered, glancing between them, then cleared her throat and lifted her chin with renewed dignity. "In any case, I didn't come here for leisure. Come to the guest house before dinner. I have important business to discuss with you."
Her tone had shifted—still confident, but threaded with an undercurrent of seriousness that hadn't been there before.
Alexio's frown deepened slightly, but he nodded.
Satisfied, Helena offered them both a parting smile and swept away across the sand, her red curls bouncing with each step.
---