Filed to story: Elowen Hale and Duke Cassian Valebourne Book PDF Free
Alaric gritted his teeth. “What? Would Uncle actually take her side?”
If he recalled correctly, his uncle had a beloved woman in his heart-it certainly couldn’t be Elowen.
What man would favor a woman like her, who lacked grace and was full of schemes?
This marriage was merely Elowen’s doing, taking advantage of Cassian’s coma and the King’s guilt towards the Hales to force it through.
Upon learning the truth, his uncle should despise her, should want her gone!
Yet Bran spoke with grave seriousness, “Your Highness, you have no idea! His Grace treats Her Grace exceedingly well! The first time he woke, he called for no one else-he rested in her arms. They were most affectionate! The second time, His Grace personally commanded that the entire household’s stewardship be handed to her. In my humble view, His Grace is deeply satisfied with his bride! He’s not fully conscious yet, but once he is, he’ll doubtless dote on her beyond measure…”
If anyone else had said this, Alaric would have dismissed it as lies meant to provoke him.
But this was Bran.
A fool, and blindly loyal to Cassian.
He wouldn’t lie.
So it’s true? Uncle truly treats her well?
He doesn’t loathe her? He doesn’t want her gone?
A complex storm of emotions raged inside Alaric, his face turning ashen.
Bran continued speaking at length, but Alaric heard none of it. He hardly remembered how he left the room.
He only recalled seeing Elowen in the outer chamber, his expression cold and hard. Through clenched teeth, he warned, “Elowen, don’t you dare regret this.”
Refusing to look at her again, he turned and strode away without a backward glance.
Elowen got barked at for no reason and honestly thought Alaric was out of his damn mind.
She shrugged it off and turned back to Cora to resume their conversation.
“You were saying, Vivian keeps complaining of headaches or that her things aren’t packed, stubbornly refusing to leave? Fine. In a bit, take two guards over and stuff her straight into the carriage…”
Meanwhile, outside, Alaric headed for his carriage to return to the palace.
Before he reached it, a slender, graceful figure approached. She moved with elegant steps, then curtseyed before him. “Greetings, Your Highness. May you be well.”
Her voice was sweet, her eyes limpid pools that seemed to hold a captivating hook.
She was undoubtedly a beauty. Yet Alaric, Crown Prince of Avenlor, had seen countless beauties and encountered every ploy imaginable.
He remained utterly unmoved, his face an impassive mask.
For the first time, Vivian felt a flicker of doubt about her own charms.
She bit her lower lip softly and dared to take a step forward. “Your Highness, a moment please!”
A touch of impatience colored Alaric’s tone. “What is it?”
Vivian offered an ingratiating smile.
“I am Vivian Ashcroft, the eldest daughter of General Ashcroft, and the Duke of Duskmoor’s cousin.”
Alaric sneered, “You?”
Vivian faltered. “Pardon?”
Alaric coldly tossed the words over his shoulder as he walked away. “You’ve been married before. Stop pretending to be an unmarried maiden.”
He turned and left without another word.
Vivian felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head. Her entire body went cold.
After a long moment, she mustered the strength to chase after him. “Your Highness, I have something urgent to report. It concerns the Duchess of Duskmoor!”
Alaric’s foot was already on the carriage step. At those last three words, his movement froze mid-air. He turned his head, his gaze locking onto her. “The Duchess of Duskmoor?”
His voice dropped low, edged with a possessiveness he probably didn’t even notice.
Vivian caught her breath. She’d gambled right!
Suppressing her frantic heartbeat, she drew closer. “Your Highness, please follow me.”
A short while later, Alaric stood by the stable door, watching a boy in the distance. The lad wore a pained expression, reluctantly gathering armfuls of hay to feed the horses, muttering curses under his breath.
“That boy ruined a rare, expensive quill,” Vivian explained in a hushed tone. “By rights, he should have been flogged to death. But the Duchess took pity on him. She made an exception and kept him on. At first, I merely thought her kind-hearted. But after seeing Your Highness today, I realized her motives might not be so pure. This is serious. I didn’t dare hide it from you.”
With these words, Vivian neatly absolved herself of all responsibility.
As she spoke, she sneaked a look at the Crown Prince’s face.
She figured he’d blow up and scold the Duchess of Duskmoor.
That would at least vent some of her anger.
To her surprise, he showed no anger. Instead, a faint, knowing smile curved his lips, his eyes holding a glint of knowing pleasure, as if to say, “I knew it.”
Vivian was stunned.
Even as the Crown Prince departed, and even when Cora arrived with guards to bundle her into a carriage and send her away, she still couldn’t fathom what that expression had meant.
…
With the bangle snatched by Alaric, Elowen still needed to prepare a birthday gift for Maerwyn.
However, after mid-month, having taken over the management of all Duskmoor Manor affairs, she was swamped from dawn till dusk. There was no time for another outing.
After some thought, she asked Edith for help with the selection.
Edith had served in the palace. Her taste was a sure thing.
Since witnessing Edith’s formidable slap, Mira had become her fervent admirer and formally asked to learn from her.
Elowen, understanding her maid’s desire, arranged for her to accompany Edith.
Edith had no objections, and Mira was thrilled.
The day was particularly hot, so Elowen told them to wait until the sun had set before heading out.
She herself remained in the chamber, sorting through the account books.
Bran entered with a washbasin and bowed. “Your Grace.”
Elowen didn’t look up at first. “Come to tend to Cassian again?”
Bran chuckled.
Elowen was about to tell him to go ahead when a crucial memory struck her. Her head snapped up. “Wait!”
Last night, driven by curiosity about that prominence, she had tugged Cassian’s robe aside. Later, overwhelmed by embarrassment, she had simply hidden under her own covers to sleep. She hadn’t fixed his clothing!
Bran, knowing nothing of this, stopped and turned. “What is it, Your Grace?”
Elowen feigned calm. “The task of washing him might be better left to me.”
Bran blinked. “You?”
He grew flustered. “Have I done something wrong?”
It’s not that you did anything wrong; it’s that I did. She couldn’t very well say that.
Putting down her quill, she looked up. “You’ve done perfectly well. It’s just… I am his wife now. He is my husband. Such intimate matters are more fitting for me to handle.”
Bran protested, “That won’t do! You are the Duchess, a noble lady. This chore is best left to a servant like me!”
Seeing she couldn’t persuade him, Elowen grew increasingly anxious.
But desperation breeds ingenuity. A sudden inspiration flashed in her mind.
“…Didn’t the royal physician say that if Cassian received regular stimulation, it might help him wake?”
“He did…”
“Think about it. You always wash him. He’s grown accustomed to it; it’s no longer a stimulus. If I do it today, wouldn’t that be a new form of stimulation?”
Bran’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s true! How clever you are, Your Grace!”
