The "compliment" was laced with threat—the maid grasped that immediately.
After all, if she'd been any less quick-witted, she wouldn't have survived long in Lady Pembroke's employ.
"Yes, Madam." She bowed her head deferentially. "You instructed me to take good care of the new arrival to the estate. That was merely my... *interpretation* of your wishes."
Satisfied with the response, Lady Pembroke gestured for her to approach. The woman slipped the ring she'd just removed from her finger into the maid's apron pocket—a valuable piece of jewelry worth six months' wages for an ordinary servant.
"M-Madam!" The girl's eyes widened as she registered the weight of the "gift."
"You've worked here long enough to understand that I am quite fair." Lady Pembroke patted the maid's shoulder with calculated benevolence. "Depending on how you handle this task, you may receive an even more generous reward."
The maid swallowed hard, meeting her mistress's sharp gaze.
"Do you understand what I mean?"
"Yes, Madam." The girl's voice trembled slightly—confirmation that she understood the unspoken directive perfectly.
"Excellent." Lady Pembroke gave her shoulder another pat and smiled. A true aristocrat, after all, never dirtied her own hands—even when orchestrating someone else's downfall.
---
"Madam—no, *my lady*—I don't even know how to put this..."
Sophie glanced around the chamber uncertainly, her attention flitting from one object to another with growing dismay. Adelina, as though already anticipating what the girl wanted to say, smiled gently and moved toward the fireplace.
It was, objectively speaking, magnificent.
Two fluted columns rose like the entrance to an ancient temple, supporting the edges of an exquisitely carved marble mantelpiece. The craftsmanship was undeniable—the focal point of the room, stunning in its artistry.
The problem was that there were *far too many* such luxurious objects competing for attention.
Adelina turned slowly, surveying the space. Everywhere her gaze landed, it was assaulted by bright, garish decorations that made her eyes water. A bedroom—the most intimate, private sanctuary in any home—should invite relaxation and repose.
This room felt like a showroom. A museum. Every surface gleamed with the desperate insistence of wealth on display.
*I had a bad feeling the moment I saw the golden griffin statue in the garden.*
"Golden..." Sophie echoed her thoughts, as if reading her mind.
"Yes. So brilliantly polished you could hardly miss it." The maid sighed heavily, pressing both hands to her temples. "Never in my life have my eyes beheld anything quite so... *aggressive*."
She crossed to the window and yanked the curtains aside to peer out.
"Good *heavens*! You can see that cursed statue even from here—the glare is positively *blinding*." With an irritated huff, Sophie pulled the heavy drapes shut again, plunging the room into muted dimness.
The sight was so theatrical that Adelina couldn't suppress a laugh.
But Sophie planted both hands on her hips and regarded her mistress with utmost seriousness.
"My lady, this is a genuine problem."
"Sophie, everyone has their own aesthetic preferences." Adelina's tone was gently chiding. "We must show some respect."
"*Preferences?*" The girl's voice climbed an octave. "How can this even be called *taste*?" She gestured broadly at the overflowing opulence surrounding them and shook her head with vehemence. "My lady, this isn't style—it's a *display*. Just a mountain of expensive things piled together without thought or harmony."
Adelina's eyes widened at such blunt honesty. She would never have voiced the observation aloud herself, but privately... it was difficult to argue with the assessment.
"Sophie, you must maintain some dignity," she reproached—though the correction came a beat too late, and it was clear she sympathized entirely with the maid's opinion.
"My lady, I know you agree with me." Sophie's voice dropped conspiratorially. "But given the state of this household, I cannot object when those around us whisper: '*Nouveau riche*.'"
*Nouveau riche.*
The phrase hung in the air like an indictment.
Indeed, many in society had criticized the Duke of Pembroke—a half-commoner who, through marriage to a highborn heiress, had attempted to resurrect his family's fading legacy. The whispers had followed him for years.
Sophie turned her scrutiny to the wallpaper, brows knitting together.
"Look at this. Deep cerulean blue—I'm certain it cost a small fortune to achieve that particular shade. And those patterns..." She leaned closer, squinting. "I believe they've mixed gold dust directly into the paint. *Gold!* Why this obsession with gilding everything?"
"Perhaps they intended to evoke the night sky," Adelina suggested diplomatically. "Stars glittering against darkness?"
"If only that were the intention..." Sophie's voice trailed off as her attention snagged on something new. "My God—just look at this *painting*! Did the artist feel compelled to use every single color available to humanity? Who on earth commissioned this monstrosity?"
She pressed a hand to her forehead, the very picture of despair.
"Now that you're a duchess, you'll be expected to host gatherings and entertain guests. But the moment you invite anyone to such a house, you'll be ridiculed mercilessly." Her voice grew dire. "They'll pretend to be enchanted to your face, naturally—but behind your back, they'll mock you. Rumors will spread about the *extravagant* way money is squandered in this family."
She sighed, her shoulders sagging.
"The difficulty is... if these are the Duke's personal tastes, then as his wife, you cannot simply change everything on a whim. It would be a grave insult. The situation is quite distressing."
Despite Sophie's pessimism, Adelina did not share her concerns.
"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I don't believe the Duke's preferences are reflected in this mansion's decoration at all."
"Truly?"
"Yes. The villa he built on the island was remarkably elegant—refined, even minimalist in places." Adelina gestured vaguely. "And the Duke himself dresses quite simply."
"You're absolutely right!" Sophie's expression brightened as the pieces fell into place.
Alexio Pembroke's wardrobe could be described as severely understated—even *boring* by aristocratic standards. Yet thanks to his impeccable physique and striking features, he managed to look distinguished regardless.
"This interior is certainly not to His Grace's taste. He clearly favors simplicity—black and white, clean lines." Sophie's excitement grew as the revelation settled. "Then..."
She stroked her chin, thinking hard. Almost immediately, a face materialized in her mind—someone who perfectly matched such ostentatious surroundings.
"*Lady Pembroke!*"
Realization struck like lightning. Sophie's gaze swept the room again with fresh understanding, and she nodded emphatically.
"If this is *her* doing... then everything makes sense."
Before her marriage, Lady Pembroke had been the daughter of an earl—respectable, but not extraordinary. Through calculated social maneuvering, she had elevated herself to prominence within high society. Luxury and display were her natural element, the armor she wore to prove her worth.
"It seems she has no intention of relinquishing control of this estate easily." Adelina ran her fingertips along the gilded wallpaper, her voice contemplative.
"Of course not." Sophie's tone turned grim. "She isn't His Grace's biological mother. The moment she surrenders household authority, the last thread connecting her to this family will be severed. Lady Pembroke understands that perfectly."
Which explained why the woman had immediately attempted to establish dominance—summoning the servants for that theatrical welcome, subtly positioning Adelina as a guest rather than mistress.
And if the current lady of the estate was serious about retaining power, the servants would likely treat the new duchess with thinly veiled hostility.
"Well..." Adelina's lips curved slightly. "This method would certainly work on a timid, inexperienced young noblewoman."
It was true that Adelina was often mistaken for such—her slight frame and gentle demeanor invited underestimation.
*However...*
Sophie straightened her shoulders with quiet pride, watching her mistress's thoughtful, utterly unafraid expression. Adelina had been forced to mature early, assuming responsibility for the Roche household when her mother fell ill and her father proved perpetually absent. She had managed an entire estate—dealt with creditors, servants, accounts. Her experience far exceeded what her appearance suggested.
"Actually," Sophie murmured with satisfaction, "it's *Lady Pembroke* who should be nervous."
Smiling to herself, the maid turned her attention to more practical matters.
"My lady, this door leads to the shared sitting room between your chambers and the Duke's. Beyond it are His Grace's private quarters."
The arrangement—separate bedrooms connected by a common space—was typical for aristocratic marriages.
"I see."
"The lock on the door to the sitting room is on the inside," Sophie continued, demonstrating. "So you can secure it from your side if you wish for privacy."
"Understood." Adelina glanced at the door with detached interest before returning her attention to Sophie. "I need to send an important letter to my father. There aren't any servants here I trust yet, so I'd like you to deliver it personally."
"I could easily carry it to the Roche estate..." Sophie began automatically—such errands were well within her usual duties.
But then she hesitated, the words dying on her lips. Something troubled her. Her gaze flickered toward the door, then back to Adelina.
She seemed wary. Of someone.
---