Filed to story: Elowen Hale and Duke Cassian Valebourne Book PDF Free
Listening to them, she gained a general understanding.
The two older women had entered the palace as children. They had originally served Queen Dowager Selene. When Cassian was granted his title, the Queen Dowager sent four women from her side to manage his household.
Over the years, one had grown too old and returned to her hometown, and another had passed away. Only Gerda and Edith remained.
As for the other footmen and maids, some were the children of palace attendants, while others were relatives of soldiers from Cassian’s army. Some handled menial cleaning work, while others could read, had experience, and knew how to manage affairs.
All in all, the staff was reliable, and the arrangements were reasonable.
And because Bran stood behind Elowen, his broad frame and status as a deputy commander radiating pressure from every angle, everyone treated the young Duchess with great courtesy.
Everything gave Elowen a distinct feeling. Someone had prepared everything in this courtyard long ago, simply waiting for the lady of the house to arrive.
Cassian had done this for the woman he loved.
Unexpectedly, after living another lifetime, Elowen had taken advantage of that woman’s place.
Feeling a quiet sigh in her heart, Elowen faced the group and said, “By His Majesty’s decree, His Grace and I are married, and I have become Duchess of Duskmoor. I was raised in Hale Manor. I don’t understand the twists and schemes of noble households. I only know one thing. As long as each of you handles your duties well, there will be generous rewards.”
She glanced at the heat shimmering in the air. “It’s warm today. I’ve kept you standing here too long.”
After a pause, she added, “When this is done, have the kitchen bring you some barley broth.”
The group was clearly surprised. Standing under the sun, they were already sweating. When they heard there was soup, they couldn’t help but swallow.
Elowen continued, “From today onward, every afternoon you’ll each have a bowl of barley soup until summer ends. If one bowl isn’t enough, you’re welcome to go back for more. If you want something else, tell Mira. Once I know, I’ll make arrangements as I see fit.”
Everyone offered their thanks.
Elowen thought to herself that this must be what her sister-in-law once called balancing authority with kindness.
Let them stand in the sun for a while, then give them soup to cool off. They would fear her authority as Duchess, and they would also remember her kindness.
That way, whatever she needed to do in the future would be much easier. After meeting everyone in the courtyard, Elowen went to review the account books.
Just as Bran had said, he understood nothing about accounting. The ledgers were a mess, and his handwriting looked like it had been scratched by a dog.
Elowen read patiently, losing all sense of time.
“My lady, it’s time to rest. If you keep reading like this, you’ll ruin your eyes.”
It was Mira, entering from outside. Elowen was still trying to decipher a blot of ink and asked casually, “What time is it?”
“It’s nearly ten.”
Elowen froze and looked up.
Because she had been bent over for so long, her neck and shoulders had grown stiff when she moved even slightly, and a dull ache spread.
She hissed softly, rubbing her neck, and looked out at the night, dark as spilled ink. She hadn’t expected it to be so late.
She still hadn’t gone to see Marwen today.
Marwen furrowed her brows tightly and slammed her palm down on the table. “That Elowen girl. She doesn’t put me, her elder, in her eyes at all.”
Her youngest daughter, Sylvia Ashcroft, was embroidering beside her. Without lifting her head, she said, “Mother, she didn’t do anything wrong. You’re her aunt. No rule says a new bride must greet her aunt on the first day.”
“I’m the one managing this household.”
Sylvia muttered, “But that courtyard isn’t under your control…”
Marwen choked, then glared at her viciously. “Heartless thing. Taking her side already. That position of Duchess of Duskmoor should have been yours.”
Seeing Sylvia still focused on her embroidery, Marwen’s anger flared. She roughly snatched the cloth away. “Stop sewing. All day long, all you ever do is sew. What do you think you’ll ever make of yourself? How did I give birth to such a useless daughter?”
Sylvia had not expected it. The needle cut her finger, leaving a long streak of blood.
She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes instantly reddening. Clutching her finger, she cried out, “I never wanted to marry Cassian in the first place. He never cared for me either.”
Marwen snapped, furious. “Fool. If he doesn’t care for you, don’t you know how to seduce him? If you could have climbed into his bed, even if he didn’t love you, he would still have had to marry you.”
She clenched her teeth and said bitterly, “If you can’t become Duchess of Duskmoor, this manor will fall into someone else’s hands sooner or later.”
Tears pooled in Sylvia’s eyes. “But Duskmoor was never ours. Cousin only took us in because he’s kind.”
A sharp slap cut her off.
Marwen raged, scolding endlessly. “You’re nothing like your sister. I should have kept you by my side from childhood instead of letting you follow your father and grow into such a weak, useless fool who never fights for anything. If your sister hadn’t married so early, she would have taken the Duke long ago.”
Sylvia’s hand throbbed, her cheek stung, and tears streamed down her face. She was overwhelmed by grievance. Without another word, she grabbed the half-finished embroidery from the table and rushed outside.
“Sylvia?”
At the doorway, she nearly ran straight into Lucien.
“You’ve got no skill and still have the nerve to cry. How did I end up raising such a fool?” Marwen shouted behind her, her voice shrill with rage.
Sylvia couldn’t bear to hear another word. She didn’t even stop to greet Lucien. Her eyes filled with tears as she hurried off.
Lucien watched her go, then stepped into the room. He asked calmly, “Arguing again?”
Marwen was already fuming. At the sound of his voice, she exploded.
“Who else but that useless sister of yours? I’ve worked myself to the bone, planning her future. And what does she do? Turns her back on us, throwing herself into another family’s arms. She’s already calling that woman cousin-in-law. At this rate, she’ll be begging to wash their feet in a few days!”
At the word cousin-in-law, Lucien raised an eyebrow. He sat down beside Marwen and gently took her hand.
“She’s still young, Mother. She doesn’t understand how things work. Don’t let it upset you. As for our new Duchess…”
He paused, lips curling into a slow smile. “I’ll visit her later. Mother, give me the manor token.”
The guards watching over that wing were far too strict. Without the token, Lucien couldn’t get in. And if he tried to force his way in, those guards wouldn’t hesitate to draw their blades-even on him.
Marwen frowned. “What are you going there for? Absolutely not.”
But for hours now, Elowen’s face and that slim waist had haunted Lucien’s thoughts. The images had gnawed at him, itching in a way he couldn’t ignore. There was no way he was giving up.
He coaxed her softly and sweetly. “You’ve been saying she hasn’t come to greet you, haven’t you? You run the household, you can’t be expected to chase after her. She clearly doesn’t care for the servants. Only I can speak with her. Don’t worry. I promise, by tomorrow, she’ll greet you with proper courtesy.”
Elowen loosened her hair, removed the ornaments from it, and settled herself for the night. Mira finished arranging the blankets and stepped out. She hadn’t taken more than a few steps when a sudden cry escaped her.
Elowen rushed two steps toward the door, just about to ask what had happened.
A man’s voice rang out from outside, calm and amused. “No need to be alarmed, miss. I am Lucien Ashcroft, cousin to the Duke. I mean no harm. Here-this is my access token.”
Elowen’s brow furrowed. Why would he come at such an hour?
Outside, Mira’s voice took on a colder tone. “It’s the middle of the night, Lord Lucien. Might I ask why you’re here?”
Lucien responded with a pleasant tone, “There’s an urgent matter I must discuss with Elowen.”
Mira didn’t hesitate. “Her Grace has already gone to bed. Lord Lucien, please return in the morning.”
Lucien persisted, “It’s truly urgent. Please inform her.”
Mira remained firm. “I’ve served Her Grace since childhood. Once she’s asleep, she’s very difficult to wake. If the matter is urgent, you may come earlier tomorrow.”
Her voice was steady, leaving no room for argument. Lucien was silent for a moment, then gave a soft chuckle. “Very well. I’ll return in the morning.”
Outside, Mira quietly let out a breath. Inside the room, Elowen also relaxed and moved toward the bed.
Then, from the west window, came the faint rustle of movement. She turned her head. A shadow pushed the window open and slipped inside.
Her heart dropped. The figure moved forward two steps. In the candlelight near the bed, his face was revealed-cocky, grinning, and unmistakably familiar.
“So you were lying to me.”
Elowen didn’t hesitate. She opened her mouth to call for help, but Lucien was already prepared. He crossed the room in two quick strides and clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Shhh.”
He’d done this before-far too many times. Every movement was practiced.
“Don’t scream. If the others rush in and see you here alone with me, what do you think they’ll say? It won’t sound good. And besides, do you really want to live the rest of your life as a lonely widow?”
Elowen struggled. She had trained briefly with her father and brothers, but against a grown man like Lucien, she was no match.
Sensing her resistance, Lucien’s breathing grew heavier.
“You’ve never tasted pleasure, that’s why you resist. Just once-and I promise, you’ll crave it every night.”
