Chapter 27: No Harm in Being Prepared

Isolde smiled faintly. “You’re not wrong. Killing you now would make all my wounds a wasted effort, wouldn’t it?”

The butler’s smile turned sly. “Quite so, my lady. You’d best hold onto this small mercy. Who knows? You may yet find yourself back in the Duke’s household.”

Isolde tilted her head thoughtfully. “Ah, you’ve given me an idea. I’ve earned merit with the Royal Court. Becoming the young lady of the Duke’s estate should hardly be a challenge now, should it?”

The butler’s eyes flickered with cunning. “You speak reason.”

With a smirk, Isolde added, “Well then, you’ve earned yourself some credit for reminding me. I’ll spare you this once. Now go.”

From the sidelines, Keith and Noelle listened in disbelief, certain they must have misheard. The butler struggled to his feet, shooting Isolde a cold, resentful glance. “My gratitude, my lady.” With that, he limped away.

Isolde entered Helena’s chamber. Keith, the princess’s guard, was preparing medicine for Helena. Hearing about the butler’s release, Helena burst out, “Miss, why let him go?”

Isolde’s calm smile didn’t falter. “Why not? He had a fair point.”

Helena stomped her foot, exasperated. “My lady, this is madness! Even I know you can’t let a wolf back into the fold. If you couldn’t kill him, at least you could have taught him a lesson!”

Isolde gently patted her flushed cheek. “Calm down, little one. If someone like you knows the dangers of letting a tiger return to its lair, do you really think I don’t?”

Helena’s eyes widened. “Wait… you meant to let him go?”

“Exactly,” Isolde said, rising carefully and steadying herself against the wall. “At the very least, the Marquis’s household needs to believe I still intend to marry into their family.”

Helena gaped, completely bewildered. “But… why? I thought you wanted to break off the engagement?”

“I do, and they already did. But think about it: this marriage was arranged by the Marquis himself, yet it was the Marchioness who called it off. She claimed I’d brought shame on the family. That excuse worked when everyone thought I’d disgraced myself. But now? I’ve earned royal favor and been granted a noble title. What grounds could they possibly have to refuse me now?”

“But… the marriage is already over!” Helena cried, still at a loss.

Isolde smiled, enigmatic as ever, and left the room. Helena watched her go, wringing her hands in frustration, no closer to understanding her mistress’s intentions.

In the Eternal Brightness Pavilion, Matilda’s voice cut through the still air like a blade. “What did you say? That wretched girl still thinks she can marry into the Duke’s estate? The engagement was annulled—what right does she have?”

His promotion is all but guaranteed, triumphant from this campaign. He could easily rise to the rank of one of the Three Marquises, wielding power over the Bryndral Empire. How could she possibly give up the chance to climb so high?”

Matilda sneered. “The Marchioness despises her. I saw her relief the day the engagement was broken.”

“But the Marquis himself favors her,” the butler replied bitterly. “The Marchioness only annulled the match because of the scandalous elopement. Now that the truth is out—it was a misunderstanding—and the Royal Court has honored her.”

Matilda’s expression turned grim. “And what of Eleanor? What will happen to her? You must come up with something!”

The butler shook his head. “There’s little that can be done, unless Isolde Langley were to die—or commit another unforgivable offense.”

Matilda collapsed into a chair, her face pale with worry. “No. I won’t let her take Eleanor’s place. She has struggled to earn the Marchioness’s favor, especially now that she’s with child. If we lose this opportunity, everything we’ve worked for will crumble. Worse still, we’ll bring ruin upon ourselves.”

The butler hesitated before speaking. “Lady Eleanor must marry into the Eldermere household—and quickly. Any further delay, and her condition will become all too obvious.”

Matilda snapped, her voice sharp. “She cannot go in as a concubine! If that’s the case, she’d be better off marrying into a family of equal standing where she can be a proper wife.”

“She has no choice now,” the butler said quietly. “Her condition binds her fate. A concubine’s position is still within reach. If this child is a son, he will be the eldest, and even the Marchioness wouldn’t dare mistreat his mother.”

He paused, lowering his voice. “As for Isolde, we can turn to Marshal Blackwell for help. If we can keep her from marrying into the family, so much the better. But even if she succeeds, as long as she remains childless, she can be dismissed after three years.”

Matilda’s eyes narrowed, her tone cold. “Childless, you say?”

The butler gave a sinister chuckle. “It’s hardly difficult, Cousin. A single dose of the right remedy is all it takes.”

A cruel light flickered in Matilda’s eyes. “Yes. There is such a remedy.”

The remedy was as ruthless as it was effective. For an unmarried girl, it meant she would never bear children. For a pregnant woman, it brought premature labor—or death for both mother and child.

“But,” the butler added cautiously, “it won’t be easy. We need someone she trusts to give it to her.”

Matilda smiled icily. “She has always revered Michelle. If Michelle Yates tells her it’s a tonic to nourish her health, she will take it without question.”

The butler’s eyes brightened. “Lady Michelle? Yes, of course. She trusts Lady Isolde completely. Before her marriage, Isolde followed her like a shadow. I remember when Lady Michelle wed, the girl cried for days.”

“Send someone to the Marquis of Velmont’s estate,” Matilda ordered. “Tell Michelle to come home as soon as she can.”

“Yes!” Matilda glanced at the butler’s bandaged ear. “You should rest for a few days. You’ve suffered enough—whipped and injured as you are. Go home and recover.”

The butler bowed deeply. “Thank you for your kindness, Cousin.”

Matilda handed him some money. “You’ve endured much for us this time. Rest easy—you won’t go unrewarded for your loyalty.”

The butler took the note, his face a mask of gratitude. “I owe everything to you and your brother, Cousin.”

Matilda’s eyes turned cold again. “Do your work well, and there will be no shortage of rewards. But as for that woman in your household—Lady Cantrell—get rid of her. When you were in danger, she hid away. Beauty means nothing without loyalty. She’s a pretty face, yes, but a heartless one.”

The butler’s voice turned venomous. “That harlot? I’ll see to her, rest assured.”

As he limped out of the Velvet Wing, he was oblivious to the pair of eyes following his every step from the shadows.

That evening, Keith reported back to Isolde Langley. “The butler beat Lady Cantrell senseless and threw her out. He didn’t give her a penny and even threatened anyone who might take her in. Said they’d be making an enemy of him—and the Marshal’s household.”

Isolde’s lips curved into a faint smile. “As expected. Is she settled?”

“As you instructed, I found her a quiet house in a secluded part of the city,” Keith said.

“Well done,” Isolde replied with a nod.

“But is it really necessary to go so far for a mere butler?” Keith asked, puzzled.

“Of course not,” Isolde said lightly. “The butler himself is of no importance. But he serves Milton and Matilda. He knows far more than he should.” In her past life, she’d learned the man’s weakness: a few drinks would loosen his tongue, and he would spill secrets to his women. That day, she’d overheard him confiding in Lady Cantrell. Keeping Lady Cantrell isn’t costly, she thought. And there’s no harm in being prepared.