Chapter 490

The aroma of coffee filled the sitting room. Lulu entered, carrying cloud cakes; her shoes were soaked from the rain. Clear footprints marked her trail across the cloud-patterned stone floor.

Carissa remained silent, sipping her coffee. Only a high, square table separated her from Heather. Lulu placed the cakes on the table and then retreated to the doorway, ostensibly keeping watch. Carissa picked up a cake and ate it slowly, her chewing barely audible.

Heather, using a fork and a small porcelain saucer to catch crumbs, ate with refined elegance, mindful of her purple floral gown. Her yellowish complexion appeared even duller in the gown's shade, her eyes lifeless and shadowed—evidence of sleepless nights.

Finally, unable to contain herself, Heather set down her plate and fork, dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief, and asked, "Carissa, have you become estranged from me, your aunt?"

"I thought it was you who had become estranged from me," Carissa replied calmly.

Heather sighed. "It's because of Leona's trousseau, isn't it? I apologize. Let's put it behind us. We're family. If your mother were here, she'd be heartbroken to see us like this."

"If my mother were heartbroken, it wouldn't be because of me," Carissa said, meeting Heather's gaze. "Furthermore, I haven't given a second thought to Leona's trousseau or your refusal. If you're here for something specific, say it. There's no need to involve my mother."

Heather's expression was conflicted. "You say you haven't given it a second thought, but because of you, our family was under house arrest for a month! We couldn't even attend the New Year's Eve palace celebration."

"So, you're blaming me, Aunt Heather?" Carissa asked, a hint of amusement in her tone.

"I didn't mean to blame you," Heather hesitated, her frustration evident. "Harvey's household has always been modest and unassuming. We've never courted trouble, so the king's house arrest was unbelievable."

"You're here about Leona, right? Just say it," Carissa said, impatient with the circumlocution.

Heather faced her niece, hands clasped. "Yes, Carissa. Leona is unlike you. She's timid, delicate, and fragile. She can't handle hardship or the gossip following a divorce. And she's a duchess! How will it look if a duchess is divorced by a courtesan?" Her tone became more earnest. "Please, don't encourage her divorce. She's pregnant and can't handle upheaval. Besides, what man doesn't have multiple wives or concubines? Leona can tolerate others. People tire of the same face. Her character is solid and respectable. If she waits three to five years, Samuel will return. Life will improve."

Carissa's eyes remained cold. "Do you think I encouraged her divorce, Aunt Heather?"

"If not for you, she wouldn't have said such ridiculous things. She's newly married and pregnant. If the child is a son, he'll inherit the Earl of Gracehold's title. Why choose such a difficult path?" Heather retorted.

Carissa, though disdainful, remained composed. "Aunt Heather, I never encouraged Leona's divorce. Have you considered that her fragile nature, especially during pregnancy, might make her feel exceptionally distressed?"

"What woman doesn't feel distressed?" Heather countered.

"She's a duchess, with a prince and princess consort as parents. She has support—she shouldn't feel so distressed," Carissa replied.

Heather's tone sharpened. "Is that what you've been telling her? Did you lead her to believe her family would support her divorce?"