"Alexio!"
The edge of irritation in Helena's voice stopped the Duke just as his hand closed around the door handle. He turned slowly, finding his cousin glaring at him with undisguised annoyance.
"What is it?" His tone was flat, disinterested.
"I asked you to come speak with me about an important matter."
"I don't recall agreeing."
"How can you say you didn't agree?" Helena's voice rose with indignation. "You *nodded*!"
"Does a nod always signify consent?" Alexio demonstrated with an exaggerated dip of his chin—a gesture so clearly dismissive that no reasonable person could interpret it as agreement.
"Are you *mocking* me?" Helena laughed incredulously, planting both hands on her hips. "I told you this was urgent!"
"You've probably quarreled with the old man again." The Duke clicked his tongue, as though he had already foreseen exactly how this conversation would unfold. "As I've said before, I have no interest in the inheritance. Whatever grandfather decides, leave me out of it."
"Ha! And I'm supposed to *believe* that?" Helena regarded him with open skepticism. She knew perfectly well how obsessed this man was with accumulating wealth. His claim of indifference toward a substantial inheritance rang utterly false. "In any case, that's not why I came. This is about *Luka*."
At the child's name, something in Alexio's expression shifted. The irritation softened, replaced by something more guarded—more careful.
Helena noticed immediately. Squaring her shoulders with renewed confidence, she raised her voice.
"After hearing news of your wedding, he hasn't been able to sleep properly. Your promise to bring him home—that still stands, doesn't it?" Her tone sharpened. "He's *waiting* for that day, Alexio."
"On what grounds do you doubt my word?"
"How could I *not* doubt it?" Helena's eyes narrowed, as though questioning how he could ask something so obtuse. "Now that you have such a beautiful wife at your side, you might have decided you no longer need Luka."
"Nothing of the sort." His voice remained level, but there was steel beneath it. "After the honeymoon concludes, we'll return to the estate and begin the formal paperwork."
"Truly?" Helena's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. "How did you manage to convince the princess? Nobles are notoriously particular about matters of bloodline and lineage."
"The details don't concern you."
But his cold dismissal only stoked Helena's temper further. Her voice climbed another octave.
"I have *every right* to know the details. Luka is *my child*!"
---
*Oh my God.*
Adelina pressed herself against the wall of the darkened corridor, one hand clutched to her chest as if to physically restrain her galloping heart. She hadn't intended to eavesdrop—had simply been searching for her absent husband—but she had stumbled upon something extraordinary.
*Lady Helena... His cousin...*
The heir Alexio planned to adopt was *her* son.
The revelation was startling, yet not entirely shocking upon reflection. Marriages between relatives—arrangements designed to preserve the purity of noble blood—had been commonplace throughout history. In centuries past, such unions were considered perfectly normal, even preferable.
*Although, of course, that wasn't the situation between the Duke and Lady Helena.*
Since they shared no blood relation whatsoever, their connection must have developed naturally. Despite Adelina's attempts to process this information logically, her heart continued its frantic rhythm.
She recalled how casually intimate Helena had been with the Duke earlier—the easy way she touched his arm, spoke his name, challenged him without fear of consequence. At the time, it had seemed merely the familiarity of family.
Now, it made far more sense.
*No wonder their relationship seemed so close.*
Perhaps such intimacy was only possible between people who trusted each other completely—who had shared something profound.
Adelina retreated silently to her chamber and slipped beneath the covers, pulling them over her head like a shield. Her mind reeled with the implications. During her *honeymoon*, of all times, she had encountered the woman who had borne her husband's child.
Had she and Alexio been an ordinary couple—a love match, a true marriage—this discovery would have been devastating. Shattering.
*But we are not an ordinary couple*, she reminded herself firmly. *This is a contract. Nothing more.*
Still, her heart refused to steady itself.
She lay awake for what felt like hours, willing sleep to come, acutely aware of the wild pulse that would not quiet.
---
The Duke's assurances that Helena and Adelina would rarely cross paths proved entirely unfounded.
His cousin's impulsive nature was to blame.
Adelina watched with reluctant fascination as Helena swept into the dining room and claimed her seat at the table with the confidence of someone who had every right to be there. The woman chatted animatedly with Mrs. Tiziana, occasionally speaking around mouthfuls of food in a manner that flagrantly violated every rule of proper etiquette.
And yet, somehow, it didn't seem vulgar. If anything, there was something admirable about her complete lack of pretense.
"As expected, the food here is simply *divine*!" Helena exclaimed, gesturing enthusiastically with her fork. "If I'd been condemned to meals in that dreary guest house, I'd have missed out on half the joy of living!"
"Oh my, it's all the cook's doing." Mrs. Tiziana waved a modest hand. "I had very little to do with it."
"Nonsense! Everything was prepared according to *your* recipes and under *your* careful supervision. The credit belongs entirely to you!"
"Now, now. Such flattery might offend the cook." Despite her protests, Mrs. Tiziana smiled warmly, clearly pleased. The elderly housekeeper appeared utterly charmed by Helena's determination to shower her with praise.
It was the sort of easy, natural exchange that remained entirely beyond Adelina's grasp.
Helena's attention, which had been fixed on Mrs. Tiziana, suddenly shifted. Her gaze landed squarely on the princess—as though she had sensed Adelina's quiet observation all along.
When their eyes met, Adelina smiled.
It was the smile she had been trained to produce since childhood: serene, pleasant, appropriate for any occasion. Years of instruction—*a princess must smile graciously at everyone she encounters*—had finally proven useful.
But her practiced, somewhat mechanical expression stood in stark contrast to Helena's effortless warmth.
"Princess, you simply *must* try the roasted vegetables." Helena gestured toward a serving dish. "They're absolutely delicious."
"Yes, everything is quite delicious." Adelina inclined her head politely. "However, I'm already full."
"Full?" Helena's eyes widened with theatrical disbelief. She peered at Adelina's plate, which remained more than half-laden with food. "*Already?* But there's so much left!"
It was true. Adelina's plate stood in stark contrast to Helena's, which had been scraped clean. Years of meager rations at the Roche estate had conditioned the princess to eat sparingly; her stomach had simply shrunk. Now, faced with Mrs. Tiziana's generous portions, she found herself struggling.
"There's no need to force yourself, my lady." The housekeeper smiled kindly, coming to Adelina's defense. "The most important thing is that you feel comfortable."
Helena, however, appeared unconvinced.
"But one shouldn't refuse something offered with genuine sincerity." Her tone carried a note of gentle reproach, and she tapped her fork against her empty plate for emphasis. "Mrs. Tiziana is far too gracious to say so, but if food goes to waste, the kitchen staff will be terribly disheartened."
The ability to speak bluntly without a trace of malice was a distinct talent. Helena wasn't the type to cause trouble through deliberate cruelty. Rather, she seemed to believe that her perspectives were self-evident truths that everyone should naturally embrace.
Adelina recognized the type immediately. Her own father, Prince Arthur, had been cast from the same mold—raised as the pampered youngest child beneath the queen's protective wing, he had grown into a man who was simultaneously self-centered and genuinely kind-hearted.
"Oh, please forgive me." Mrs. Tiziana smoothly assumed the blame before Adelina could formulate a response. "You see, I have a terrible habit of preparing far too much food. It's simply my nature. Do pardon this foolish old woman."
What she said was true enough, but Helena puffed out her cheeks in an expression of lingering displeasure.
"I must confess, I'm growing *concerned*." Her voice took on a pointed edge. "As precious as the princess may be, I wonder if she'll truly be capable of caring for *our* Lu—*Aaaah!*"
Helena's words cut off in a startled shriek as her chair suddenly tipped backward. Only her quick reflexes saved her from tumbling to the floor; she caught herself at the last moment, but her face had gone pale with shock.
This, of course, had not happened naturally.
"*Alexio!*" Helena leaped to her feet and whirled on the Duke, who stood directly behind where her chair had been. "I nearly *fell*! What are you, a *child*?"
The man offered no response. Acting as though his cousin were entirely invisible, he calmly claimed the now-vacant seat and settled himself at the table.
---