"Were the terms of the contract violated?"
"Adelina Brielle Estria-Riochel has the right to enjoy the status and rights of the Duchess of Pembroke." She met his gaze steadily. "That's what you promised me, is it not?"
"It is."
"However, I find myself unable to fully exercise the powers befitting my station. My tour of the mansion today confirmed this beyond doubt." Every corridor, every parlor, every servant's carefully averted gaze—all of it was saturated with the Dowager Lady Pembroke's influence. Her power extended far beyond the people within the estate walls. She possessed sufficient authority to shield someone as dissolute as Derek from consequence, and she would undoubtedly do **everything** in her power to maintain her position. "To wield the authority that is rightfully mine, I require your support."
"If I could intervene and suppress my stepmother's influence, I would have done so long ago, Princess." Alexio's eyes narrowed as he studied his wife. A flicker of irritation crossed his features. Lady Pembroke was his legal stepmother—the wife of the previous duke. The aristocracy placed immense value on family ties, and Alexio, having inherited the title, was **obligated** to show her proper respect. Not all nobles adhered rigidly to this principle, of course, but the young duke—being only half a nobleman by blood—faced whispered accusations and sidelong glances every time he deviated even slightly from social expectations.
In truth, the man cared little for the condemnation and mockery of his peers. However, having a title proved remarkably useful in business. Therefore, it was essential to maintain at least a **minimal** reputation. For this very reason, Alexio couldn't simply throw his stepmother and half-brother out of the estate—no matter how much the thought tempted him.
_Even if I hold a sword in my hands, I cannot use it against that woman._
"I understand that perfectly." Adelina laughed softly, noting how easily she could now read the man's expression. It struck her as somewhat odd—at their first meeting, the Duke had seemed utterly **enigmatic**, his thoughts hidden behind an impenetrable mask. "Just as you gave me the opportunity to 'free myself' from my father, I will give you the opportunity to 'rid yourself' of your stepmother."
There wasn't a trace of boastfulness in Adelina's confident words. The Duke found himself momentarily taken aback by such directness, his usual eloquence deserting him.
"That... wasn't written into the contract." It was all Alexio could manage, and he found himself stunned by his own lack of verbal dexterity. His wife, as if she had anticipated precisely this response, continued to smile.
"Consider it a wedding present. The same one you gave me."
The Duke of Pembroke hadn't expected a wedding gift from a wife bound to him only by legal agreement. He had assumed their marriage resembled a business transaction far more than a true union. But that assumption, it seemed, had been mistaken. His relationship with Adelina now felt less like cold calculation and more like... something **else**. Something that awakened a strange, unfamiliar sensation within him.
"But, as I mentioned," she continued, "for this gift, I will require your support."
"What kind of support?"
"Though I've formally become a duchess, I remain an outsider here. The situation is made worse by the peculiarities of the royal family—my surname has remained unchanged. To put it simply: in order to strengthen my position, I need your **affection**."
"Affection?" Alexio raised an eyebrow at the unexpected word. Alarmed that her meaning might be misinterpreted, Adelina quickly waved her hands.
"I mean, you must **appear** to truly love me. That has always been the source of a noble lady's power." Adelina remembered all too well what her mother's life had become after the physicians declared she could no longer bear an heir. Despite being the daughter of a duke, she had wielded no real authority in her husband's household—nothing but silence and slowly fading beauty.
"And how do you propose we accomplish this, Madam?" The Duke seemed genuinely intrigued by his wife's proposal. Leaning slightly against the doorframe, he allowed his posture to relax.
Despite her bold words, Adelina—lacking any practical experience in such matters—wasn't entirely certain how to proceed. However, she felt reasonably confident in the indirect knowledge she had gleaned from countless novels and romantic histories.
"The answer is simple: share my bed every night."
"You wish to 'share sexual pleasure with me,' just as we did at the villa?"
"**No!**" Adelina's face flushed crimson as she denied her husband's teasing clarification. The composure she had fought to maintain evaporated in an instant. "Taunting someone who is speaking seriously is **very** bad form, Alexio."
"I wasn't taunting. I was merely joking."
"Is there a difference?"
"If it were the same thing, would it make sense to use different words? As long as distinct terms exist, differences are bound to emerge." The man replied with leisurely amusement, then pushed the door open wide—a clear invitation for Adelina to enter.
"You want me to come in right now?"
"It seemed to me that was precisely why you came."
"I had no intention of intruding upon your quarters so immediately. Besides, you were working, and I have no wish to disturb you."
"Everything is fine. Come in."
With some hesitation, the girl stepped across the threshold. The Duke chuckled softly at her awkwardness, wondering where the confident princess had vanished—the one who had so boldly offered to share his bed mere moments ago. Adelina, hearing his low laugh, felt her embarrassment deepen. She was acutely aware of how she must look. They had already slept together; there was no logical reason for such shyness.
_But if you think about it..._ This was the first time she had entered Alexio's personal space. Even at the villa, it had always been **he** who came to her assigned quarters.
Adelina surveyed the room with careful attention. In stark contrast to the mansion's ostentatious furnishings, the Duke's chamber was spare and immaculately ordered—a space that clearly reflected its owner's character. Dark wood, clean lines, an absence of gilt and unnecessary ornament.
"This is unfair. I can't believe you're the only one with a decent room in this entire mansion."
"Is something wrong with the other rooms?"
Adelina stared at him in genuine shock.
"Are you asking because you honestly don't understand? If that's truly the case, it's simply **terrible**."
"Have you forgotten that I'm also a merchant? In business, taste is everything."
Adelina recalled the exquisite jewelry he had given her for their wedding—pieces of understated elegance that had taken her breath away. Indeed, the man possessed impeccable taste.
"The Pembrokes are the **perfect abnormality**." He glanced toward the darkened window, where the silhouette of a golden griffin statue was barely visible against the night sky. Surprisingly, the combination of "perfect" and "abnormal" sounded entirely harmonious when spoken in Alexio's measured tone.
Adelina realized his words applied to far more than the mansion's interior. The Pembroke line was abnormal. Just like the Roches. She reached this conclusion by comparing her family to those she had encountered in books—those idealized portraits of noble households with their warmth and unity. Neither family resembled those fictions in the slightest.
_I thought my life was the only thing in total disarray._
Alexio's reality—with his lust-driven half-brother and his scheming stepmother constantly maneuvering to undermine him—was no less complex than her own. Recognizing how quickly she had come to understand this, a strange sense of **kinship** stirred within her.
"Do you wish to retire for the night? As you can see, I still have work to attend to." The Duke's question suggested he believed their conversation had reached its natural end.
"Can I help you with anything?"
Instead of answering directly, the man simply stared at her. Understanding the meaning behind that silent gaze, Adelina pressed her lips together.
"Of course, I can't do what you do—but I can certainly assist with sorting documents or calculations."
"I didn't think you couldn't handle it."
"Then..." Blinking, the girl struggled to decipher what her husband's expression truly meant. In an instant, realization struck, and her face flushed anew. "Of course—these are documents I shouldn't see. I didn't think of that at all."
In other words, she had been meddling in matters that weren't her concern. They weren't close, and what's more, theirs was a **sham** marriage. All of this meant that handing her documents containing potentially confidential information would be entirely inappropriate.