Félix could not argue that the ailing Earl was the only one on his mind as he set out for Cleverview that morning. No, his thoughts kept circling back to someone else—someone who had, in the span of two nights, taken up what felt like permanent residence in his mind.
He could not forget the magical view of her hair whipping wildly in the wind as she ran. And certainly not how, within mere minutes, she had gone from that unguarded moment to stiffly dancing with the decrepit Viscount to the amusement of everyone else but him.
Félix could still recall the surge of rage coursing through him, his blood turning cold as he stood there, watching the repugnant scene unfold.
It had been obvious to everyone present that Estella wanted no part of the Viscount, no more than she had wanted to extort a fortune from Félix that same night.
Now, with a clearer understanding of her situation, though, he could at least empathize. She must have been truly desperate for a way out; that was clear in how she had looked him dead in the eye and laid out her demands.
> "An estate. That is one of the things I want. It must be large enough for farmland and space for breeding animals. I do not want servants or strangers coming and going as they please. You must put it in writing that the property belongs to me alone, and I will sign my name. It should also be near a stream or water source, and I would prefer fertile soil."
At the time, Félix laughed hysterically, calling her greedy for using a mere kiss as blackmail. That was until she added that she would need money to settle an unspecified debt, which made him pause.
If she was willing to demand that much from him, how much had her actual employer offered her to lure him out and kiss him?
Funny how none of that had seemed to matter when he saw her tangled in a dance with the Viscount. The sight had infuriated him so much that he stormed off before the dance ended, calling it a night and going home.
Every time she crossed his mind afterward, he dismissed the thought, telling himself there was nothing he could have done differently that night. Her family circumstances were not his cup of tea. Today, however, was different.
"Would you prefer Bordeaux or lemonade?" the Baron asked, his voice clear, almost too measured for Félix's liking.
The duke had come on an official visit to discuss the dismissed farmers working on the king's plot, not to indulge in what appeared to be some thinly veiled attempt at hospitality.
Vincent, the ailing Earl, had arranged for the Baron to oversee the project with the king's approval, owing to his own incapacity. Given that the business was taking place within the Baron's domain, it was, in theory, more convenient for him to manage.
Now, Félix was angry on two counts. First, Vincent had allowed the Baron to oversee the project without informing him. He was only now learning that. Second, the Baron had taken it upon himself to dismiss the workers without consulting anyone or offering an explanation.
No wonder the Earl's reports had been riddled with gaps and missing details. Unless the Baron was attempting to bribe him, Félix could not understand why the table before him had enough delicacies to feed an entire village.
"I'd rather we get down to business," he said sharply.
"Business talk is good," the Baroness chimed in. "But a good meal sets the spirit right."
"I never said I was hungry," the Duke shot back. The Baroness faltered slightly, her poise slipping. Turning to her husband, Félix asked, "Is she supposed to be part of this meeting?"
"Ah—" The Baron hesitated, shifting in his seat. "Actually, it will be a full-house affair. My daughters will be joining us as well. Everyone has been busy all morning, so we are only now settling down for breakfast."
As if on cue, two slender young women emerged from behind a curtain—one blonde, the other copper-haired—dressed as if a ball were scheduled for later that afternoon. They smiled at him, their charm deliberate. An obvious flirtation. It did nothing to improve Félix's mood. If anything, it drove him mad.
"When you moved our discussion to the dining room, I assumed you wanted privacy for this business meeting—somewhere other than your study." Félix pushed back his chair. "If you don't mind, I'll wait in the sitting room until you're finished. Enjoy breakfast with your family, Baron."
The Duke rose and left before the Baron or his wife could object.
"Geraldine, it's all your fault for smiling too wildly. That would unsettle even me, let alone the Duke," one sister muttered, her voice hushed, though not hushed enough. Félix heard her clearly.
"And are you any better?" the other retorted. "Your makeup is atrocious. One would think you were a circus clown yourself, Georgina."
"Girls, be quiet. What if he hears?"
That was the Baroness.
Félix kept walking, neither sparing them a glance nor entertaining the thought of how the rest of their conversation might unfold.
As he crossed the hall toward the sitting room, movement caught his eye. A shadow flitted through the ajar kitchen door, slipping inside with the unmistakable caution of someone who did not wish to be seen.
Estella?
The figure froze mid-step as if she could somehow hear his thoughts. But she did not speak. Still, Félix knew. He was confident it was her. He could not be wrong.
"Is that you, Estella?"
Silence.
She was either afraid or had another reason for keeping quiet. Perhaps she did not want anyone to know her habit of lurking in the shadows, stalking important figures at night, and attempting to extort them after a stolen kiss.
"Estella, I know you're the one. Come out at once; I order you."
This time, there was no room for negotiation.