Awakening Love: Reborn to Be His Duchess Chapter 285: Wedding Prep And A Trap

Sylvia listened, her feelings tangled up so tight they made her eyes sting. She nodded hard.

Elowen pulled her over and had her sit beside her on the daybed.

Cora appeared at just the right moment with fresh juice.

Elowen suddenly remembered something. "Wait. Your wedding date, the one written right into the Royal Decree. It's December first, right?"

Sylvia cradled the cup in both hands and nodded. "Yes. That's what the decree says."

"Then it's almost here." Elowen counted on her fingers. "If we're being generous, we've got less than a month. I need to move fast. When you leave this house, you're doing it in style."

Then her expression pinched with worry. "I've never run a wedding before. I barely know what I'm doing half the time."

"Ella, what are you scared of?"

The voice came from outside the door, bright, laughing, and confident.

Elspeth walked in wearing a deep plum jacket patterned with round floral medallions. She looked delighted with herself. "You're not doing this alone. I'm right here. When my two boys got married, I handled everything, front to back, top to bottom. The steps, the rules, the order of things. I know it all."

Elowen's shoulders dropped with relief.

She'd almost forgotten.

She smiled, eyes curving, and waved Elspeth over. "Auntie, come look. Sylvia's moving up in the world. Duchess Yvonne personally gave her a bracelet. It's huge. And it's gorgeous."

Sylvia's face went red the second she heard it.

Elspeth leaned in to look. "Well, I'll be damned. It really is."

Then she slapped her own thigh like she'd just made a decision. "No. Absolutely not. I have to give you a set of expensive bracelets too."

Sylvia blinked. "What?"

Elowen started laughing so hard she almost folded over.

Elspeth pointed casually. "Ella gets a pair too."

Elowen froze. "What?"

Elspeth didn't even flinch. "I have money. I'm allowed to be unreasonable."

Over the next several days, Duskmoor Manor turned into a storm of preparations.

Elowen threw herself into Sylvia's wedding as if it were her own responsibility to make everything perfect. The storerooms were opened. Bolt after bolt of fine fabric was carried out and compared. Gold and silver pieces and jewelry were inventoried one by one. Guest menus were drafted and redrafted. Return gifts, what kind, how many, how expensive, everything had to be weighed and decided.

With Elspeth working alongside her, the two of them often talked through details until late into the night. A few nights, Elowen didn't even bother going back, she slept in the guest room at Elspeth's place.

Cassian was left alone in their bed.

Before long, word made it back to the Crown Prince's Wing.

Tristan reported exactly as he'd been told. "Your Highness, the Duchess of Duskmoor hasn't shared a bed with the Duke in several days."

Alaric lifted one eyebrow, pleased. "So she really is angry with him. So angry she can't even pretend anymore."

Tristan didn't comment.

It was true Elowen hadn't been sleeping with Cassian. But there were plenty of reasons that could be happening, and resentment wasn't the only one. Tristan was smart enough to keep that thought to himself. There was no point pouring cold water on Alaric's mood.

Alaric asked, "Anything else?"

Tristan bowed slightly. "Tomorrow, the Duchess of Duskmoor is going to Falconcrest Manor."

Alaric's smile sharpened. "She is? Tomorrow? What time?"

Tristan thought it over. "Probably in the afternoon. It's been cold."

Approval flashed across Alaric's eyes. "You even found that out."

"That isn't something I had to dig for," Tristan said evenly. "Back when I served beside you, I noticed... the Duchess of Duskmoor doesn't do well in the cold."

Alaric paused.

"Vanelle's getting colder," Tristan continued. "With her habits, she'll sleep late in the morning. Then she'll eat something after she gets up. If you count it out, she won't leave for Falconcrest Manor until afternoon."

The curve of Alaric's mouth fell.

He didn't remember that about Elowen at all.

After a long moment, he looked at Tristan, slow, heavy, and pointed. "You pay attention to her."

Cold sweat broke across Tristan's back. He dropped to his knees so fast it rattled his bones. "Your Highness, I have absolutely no improper intent toward the Duchess of Duskmoor. I only remember those things because she grew up with you. You carry the realm on your shoulders, so you might not remember small details. I remembered them for you, that's all."

Alaric stayed silent while Tristan babbled through his panic, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush.

Finally, Alaric let out a soft laugh that didn't sound particularly kind or particularly angry. "I said it casually. Why are you on the floor?"

Tristan didn't dare relax. His forehead stayed low.

"Get up," Alaric said, light as dust, and walked toward his desk.

"Yes, Your Highness." Tristan rose carefully.

Without turning around, Alaric added, "Set it up. Tomorrow I'm going to Falconcrest Manor."

Then he paused and tacked on, "Send someone early to Allen's Confectionery on Fairlight Street. Buy a box of cakes. She likes them. And make sure they go early, Allen's gets a long line every day."

Tristan answered and withdrew.

Once outside, he shut the door and finally looked down at his hands.

His fingers were still trembling.

The next morning, Elowen woke up hazy and half-confused, with the strong sense something was off.

She opened her eyes and saw the familiar canopy overhead.