I Stole The Duke - Chapter 62

“Sir Joel, please escort Lady Espensen to the drawing room.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Having a knight escort her instead of a servant was clearly a gesture of sincere hospitality.

“I hope you enjoy a pleasant conversation with my wife, Lady Espensen.”

“Thank you for your consideration, Your Grace.”

“Sir Joel, I have further instructions for you. Once you’ve shown the lady in, come to my office.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Michalis, who had briefly fixed his gaze on Freya’s pink hair, turned away without hesitation.

‘What intention does Eliana have in inviting that woman here? If they’re enemies… is this visit just a pretense? A mere excuse to call an enemy into the house under the guise of concern?’

As Michalis ascended the stairs toward his office, his thoughts grew increasingly tangled.

‘Could it be that Eliana used her illness as a pretext? Was it to confirm she’s not actually sick—or to maintain the illusion that she is? Did the enemy come to see if their attack had succeeded? …No, isn’t that a bit too far-fetched?’

Michalis’s steps came to a sudden halt.

‘But what if it’s not far-fetched? Was her illness this morning truly just a cold?’

Once inside his office, Michalis sat down and immediately opened a drawer in his desk.

‘What was that woman doing the day before she met Eliana?’

Imperial Year 321, June 11

Freya Espensen’s Schedule:

• • Carriage departure (10:00 AM)

• • Volunteer work at the Third District Poorhouse
    (11:00 AM – 5:00 PM)

• • Returned home (6:00 PM)

Lost in thought, Michalis tapped his fingers against the desk.

‘The poorhouse…’

As a candidate for crown princess, building a charitable image was a natural move. Volunteer work like that was expected. But the timing—just a day before the tea party with Eliana—was suspicious.

‘The poorhouse… a place filled with homeless people and abandoned sick. Wasn’t it?’

Now that doubt had been planted, an uneasy feeling began to creep in.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Your Grace, I’ve escorted Lady Espensen to the drawing room.”

Joel’s voice came through the door along with a polite knock.

“Come in.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Setting aside any personal feelings about Freya, Joel stood before the desk, having fulfilled his duty with diligence.

“Sir Joel, on the day of the tea party at Marquess Rancelloti’s estate… tell me everything that happened. Leave nothing out.”

“…Yes, Your Grace. This is what occurred.”

There was no room for falsehood. Joel closed his eyes briefly and recounted everything—right down to the mouse incident and the moment he had to carry the lady.

“I see.”

Fortunately, the Duke appeared to be more concerned with something other than Joel’s physical contact with Eliana.

‘Poorhouse, mouse, fever… incubation period…’

Michalis began to feel the puzzle pieces coming together.

‘Plague.’

The moment that word surfaced in his mind, a wave of killing intent surged within him.

‘If the assumption running through my mind is true…’

It would be simple to verify whether it was mere speculation or fact.

“Sir Joel, once the meeting between Lady Espensen and my wife is over… deliver her a message from me.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The coldness radiating from his master sent a chill down Joel’s spine. He braced himself, knowing he had to repeat every word exactly, without a single omission.

‘Why the drawing room, and not the bedchamber?’

Seated on the sofa in the drawing room, Freya couldn’t shake the strange sense of unease.

Clink.

Her heart was pounding, and her hands trembled so badly that she accidentally set the teacup down with a clatter.

‘Surely, the Duchess doesn’t have the strength to walk all the way here…’

The Duchess’s frailty was obvious to anyone. If she truly had a fever, she shouldn’t have been able to leave her bed. Naturally, the meeting should have taken place in her bedchamber.

“Freya, thank you for coming.”

Just then, Eliana entered the room with a bright smile and graceful steps, nearly causing Freya’s composed expression to crack.

‘What the… Why does she look perfectly fine?’

“You look healthy. I was very worried when I heard you had a fever while pregnant.”

“Oh dear, I forgot to mention something.”

Eliana widened her eyes and covered her mouth with both hands, feigning surprise.

“Yes?”

“I’m not actually pregnant.”

‘What?!’

“……”

Freya was finding it increasingly difficult to control her expression.

“It must have just been a temporary symptom.”

Eliana sat down, took a sip of tea, and smiled radiantly.

“My stomach felt queasy that day, so… I suppose I let myself hope, just a little.”

Eliana fully relished the advantage of being on her own turf.

‘How does it feel, Freya, to be toyed with?’

Unless Freya was ready to throw away everything in this life, there was nothing she could do here.

‘Ugh… I want to end this right now.’

Freya abruptly rose from her seat, suppressing the urge—barely—to strangle the Duchess right then and there. Taking down someone that frail would’ve been easy, but the setting was all wrong.

‘You’re dying to kill me right now, aren’t you?’

Freya’s face turned noticeably pale.

“Ah… I see.”

“In time, I’m sure there will be news.”

“Then… your fever—are you all right now?”

“Yes. It was quite high this morning, but after some rest, I felt much better.”

‘Just a little rest and she recovered? That’s not possible.’

Freya was bewildered. She had clearly seen with her own eyes the Duchess’s skin and hands come into contact with the pus from a plague victim.

‘Was it too small an amount?’

Perhaps she had used too little, afraid the contaminated handkerchief would give her away. Freya instinctively realized that this attempt had failed. Eliana’s complexion and voice were far too healthy for it to be a temporary lull in symptoms.

‘What now…?’

June was already halfway through. She had to come up with a new plan quickly.

“Freya, about that pajama party we talked about before—when do you think you’ll be able to host it? You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

Lifting her teacup, Eliana casually tossed a bait toward Freya.

“Of course not. I’m already planning how to make it a delightful night.”

Thanks to Eliana’s question, Freya recalled her next opportunity and smiled sweetly like a blooming flower.

‘Yes… No need to be impatient. There’s still time. Even if I failed this time, I have another chance.’

She had tried to avoid poisoning due to the risk of being traced, but now… there weren’t many options left.

‘A slow-acting poison might work—one that takes effect long after exposure. Ideally, something that kills suddenly, perhaps after she’s traveled to the South.’

“I’m looking forward to it, Freya. I’ll await the invitation.”

Eliana smiled with a rare crinkle of her eyes. It was time to head to the Espensen estate and dismantle the regression magic.

Time flew by in a flash.

“Duchess, I have another appointment, so I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“Thank you so much for coming, Freya.”

“I had a lovely time as well.”

With plenty to prepare, Freya stood up first. After about an hour and a half, the uncomfortable meeting came to an end.

“What is it?”

After exiting the duchy, Freya’s expression stiffened slightly when she saw who was waiting for her.

‘Ugh… Of all people, it had to be him.’

That fox-like knight stood waiting near the estate gate.

‘And what’s with that expression? If it weren’t for His Grace’s orders, I wouldn’t be here waiting for you.’

Joel, for his part, felt equally uncomfortable confronting Freya.

“Lady Espensen, I have a message for you from His Grace.”

Ignoring Freya’s sour expression, Joel calmly began.

‘A message? From the Duke? What could it be?’

The unexpected announcement stirred a flurry of questions in Freya’s mind. No—there was no reason for the Duke to take any interest in her.

“Would you mind giving us a moment of privacy?”

Before delivering the message, Joel asked for the Espensen family’s knight to step away.

“Ahem… Of course.”

The knight awkwardly cleared his throat and retreated ten meters.

“I will now deliver it as is.”

“Go ahead.”

“His Grace said: ‘This is the last time I’ll pretend not to see. Do not approach my wife again.’”

Joel delivered the Duke’s words in a voice quiet enough that only Freya could hear.

‘What?’

Freya couldn’t believe her ears.

‘No… This can’t be happening.’

Even through a third party, the hostility in the message was undeniable. It was a direct warning.

“……”

As Freya stood frozen, her face pale, Joel spoke again.

“Oh, and I also have something I’d like to say.”

“……”

Instead of replying, Freya glared at him like she could pierce him with her eyes.

“I truly appreciated the matchmaking. Thanks to you, I’ve found the best bride in the Empire. I sincerely thank you for your efforts. In honor of your goodwill, I’ll make sure we live happily ever after.”

A deep, dimpled smile spread across Joel’s face.

“You…!”

Freya wanted nothing more than to claw that smug smile right off his face. Riela had been disqualified from the crown princess candidacy. Freya had won. So why did it feel like her insides were twisting?

“Well then, please take care on your way back.”

With a deliberately courteous bow, Joel turned and headed toward the annex.

Freya had no memory of how she even got into the carriage.

“Argh!”

Not long after the Espensen family’s carriage departed, Freya let out a sharp cry.

“Haa… Haa…”

Her chest tightened, and she could barely breathe. Everything had gone completely wrong today.

‘Don’t approach the Duchess? No… This can’t be happening. Why?’

Wrapped in a suffocating sense of dread, Freya unconsciously dug her nails into the back of her hand.

‘Nothing has worked… So why does the Duke treat me like an enemy?’

At this rate, even if the Duchess died, there was no way to bring the Duke to her side.

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