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Chapter 73
The sunlight of autumn filtered gently into Duke Wentworth’s office that morning.
Outside the window, the wind blew softly and leaves fell in silence.
The air inside the room felt still and heavy.
The Duke sat at his fine wooden desk, reviewing documents with a grave expression.
Then, a knock came from outside.
James’s voice followed.
“Your Grace, Stephan has arrived.”
“Let him in.”
The door opened quietly, and Stephan stepped inside.
He moved cautiously, glancing at the Duke before bowing lightly.
“You called for me, Your Grace?”
His tone was lower than usual, and his usual flippant manner was nowhere to be found.
In front of the stern Duke Wentworth, he tried his best to maintain proper decorum.
He hated being scolded more than anything.
“Sit.”
The Duke gestured toward the chair.
Though it sounded like an invitation, it carried the weight of an order.
Stephan sat carefully.
“Report on the situation of Marchioness Moulton. We’re in the final stage now, aren’t we?”
The Duke set down his pen and spoke directly.
Fatigue showed faintly on his face, but his sharp gaze fixed on Stephan, wary of any nonsense.
“There’s nothing left in the Moulton estate that could be called property.”
Stephan spoke calmly.
“The last collateral, the wheat farm and the mine, have already been transferred to the merchant guild’s name. What remains is only that auction house.”
The Duke’s expression didn’t change as he listened.
Only the steady tapping of his fingers broke the silence.
After a moment of thought, he nodded slowly.
“Well done.”
He raised one corner of his mouth slightly.
Even his smile held no warmth, only restraint.
“It’s thanks to you, Your Grace.”
Stephan forced a smile but quickly closed his mouth.
The Duke’s eyes made that smile feel out of place.
Leaning back in his chair, the Duke stared at him for a while.
His gaze was cold, as if measuring every tiny movement.
Stephan held still, uneasy but enduring it.
“So now we’ve reached the final step.”
The Duke spoke quietly.
“The slave auction documents were already delivered, correct? How many days until the transfer is complete?”
Stephan bowed his head and answered.
“Yes, Your Grace. Three days remain until it’s finalized.”
The Duke’s expression softened slightly at last.
“Finish this well, and you’ll be rewarded appropriately.”
Stephan stood and bowed again.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Good. Go and handle it.”
Watching the Duke wave his hand dismissively, Stephan left the room carefully.
As the door closed, the Duke twirled his pen and muttered under his breath.
“In the end, the filthy always meet their end in filth.”
His tone was calm, but contempt lay beneath it.
The “filthy one” he referred to was Stephan.
Though he had served faithfully for years, he knew too much.
“It’s time to dispose of him.”
Once the Moulton case was closed, the Duke had already decided Stephan would be eliminated.
***
After blocking Duke Wentworth’s tax reform proposal, Vincent had been extremely busy.
Meanwhile, I had become relatively free.
Today, I decided not to go to work and stayed in my room.
No one would scold me for skipping.
Setting aside meaningless thoughts about Vincent, I decided to spend the day reading in bed.
Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing the shelves in warm light.
Normally, I would have loved this peaceful moment, but today my mind was too uneasy to focus on the words.
My thoughts were full of the Moulton case and the plan ahead.
“I have to lead Vincent to the Moulton slave auction. That’s where I can rescue Sylvia and destroy the Duke’s scheme…”
The same line repeated endlessly in my head.
Even if everything unfolded just as in the original story — and even if that meant I could prepare — a quiet fear lingered.
“The problem is, it might go exactly like the original.”
If events followed the story, predicting them would be easy, but it could also mean Amelia’s fate would be the same.
Vincent still didn’t completely trust me.
I could tell his resentment had faded somewhat after everything that happened, but I wasn’t sure if I was off his list of revenge targets yet.
That was why I kept searching for ways to build trust while staying emotionally distant.
Then, the door creaked open and Vivian stepped in.
She approached with her usual bright smile.
“My Lady, oh dear, look at this mess. Let me tidy your desk for you!”
“Pfft, fine. Do as you like.”
Vivian’s voice was cheerful as ever, but I caught a faint tension on her face.
She always acted fine in front of me, which somehow made me worry more.
“Don’t overdo it. It’ll get messy again soon anyway.”
“My Lady, if you just put things back where they belong, that wouldn’t happen!”
“That is where they belong, for me.”
As I chatted with her, I watched her movements carefully.
Her hands moved neatly, organizing papers and pens with care.
I closed my book and asked softly,
“Vivian, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s better than usual today, actually.”
Her smile was gentle, but I could sense something uneasy behind it.
I said nothing more and simply nodded.
As she continued tidying, my eyes followed her hands.
She seemed too calm — as if everything had returned to normal.
But I knew better.
She was still being bullied by the other maids.
Since she showed no physical injuries, I guessed it had turned into psychological torment instead.
“Staying still… how useless. But she’s not asking for help, so what can I do?”
Her situation weighed heavily on me, but my thoughts soon drifted back to the Moulton case.
How would I handle the auction?
How would I draw Vincent into it naturally?
Sylvia’s appearance and the raid were set to happen soon, but the exact link between them still felt uncertain.
Vivian finished tidying and turned to me.
“My Lady, all done.”
“Thanks, Vivian. It looks spotless now.”
“Hehe, doesn’t it?”
Her bright smile made my chest feel heavier.
“Once this case is over… what should I do next?”
I picked the book back up, but the words wouldn’t stick.
The pieces of the Moulton case were falling into place, yet I feared what would change if Vincent came to trust me.
And when everything was over, I wondered where I could go.
Returning to House Wentworth was impossible.
“Maybe I should ask Duchess Lois if I can stay at her villa.”
When I calculated how much I could save from my Imperial Office salary until then, my mood sank even further.
