The Lycan King and His Dark Temptation Novel

306.

**DINNER WITH THE DUKE**

Night had already fallen, and I found myself drenched from the elements, covered in dust from the road, and utterly exhausted—more mentally than physically. I stepped into a small sitting room adorned with lavish furniture and a tea service table. The décor was exquisite: paintings adorned the walls, heavy drapes framed the windows, and finely crafted hardwood furniture filled the space; even the ceiling boasted intricate detailing.

Yet, upon closer inspection, certain details stood out—cobwebs half-hidden in the corners, dust that had been carelessly wiped away. As I opened the bedroom door, the stale, damp smell assaulted my senses, despite the clean sheets. Whoever was responsible for cleaning this room had done everything but clean it properly. At least they had left the fireplace burning to ward off the chill. When I opened the enormous wooden wardrobe, I half-expected bats to come flying out, as if it were a cave. It had not taken a single breath of air in all this time.

"What a pathetic excuse for a Duchess you are, dear sister," I murmured with a sigh. I selected the simplest dress, the one with the least musty smell. After spending a decade in a cell smaller than that closet, dressed in nothing but a filthy shift, this garment felt exquisite.

Following the hallway, I recalled the layout of the castle—there should be suits of armor ahead. Ah, there they were, standing sentinel. Beyond them lay the tapestry of the man on horseback and the staircase leading to the first floor. I had memorized this path, arriving at the massive dining hall, which could accommodate fifty people but felt imposing and empty. The long table, set only for the two of us, looked desolate.

“Madam, this way,” a footman guided me to a chair positioned almost in the center of the table. “Here?” I asked, instantly regretting the question when he shot me a look that clearly said, “obviously.”

“This is where you always dine, Your Ladyship. Is there a problem?” he inquired, and I glanced toward the head of the table. I had at least assumed I would be seated beside the Duke, but instead, I was placed more than five chairs away.

“No, this is fine,” I replied, gathering the voluminous skirt of my turquoise dress and sitting with as much elegance as I could muster. Drawing from the etiquette I had learned and refined, built upon the little I had known before, I occupied myself by examining the tableware—white porcelain decorated with delicate blue flowers.

Time passed slowly; I raised my head, watching for the Duke’s arrival, the food, or anything at all. My stomach churned worse than lice in a greasy scalp, and my backside had gone numb from sitting for so long.

When I stepped into the bathroom, it mirrored the bedroom—barely cleaned after months of neglect. “And to think you betrayed me for this life of hypocrisy…” I scoffed, sinking into the so-called rose bath, which was more cold water than anything else, inside the yellowed tub. As the lady of the house, I should have had a maid or more trailing after me, attending to my every need, even washing my feet if necessary, but there was no one.

Why did the servants dare to treat me this way? It was obvious—the Duke allowed it. Still, for me, it was an advantage. Once I was dressed and drying my hair, a maid knocked on the door.

“Come in,” I called out, hearing her footsteps moving from the antechamber to the open doorway.

“Your Ladyship, dinner is ready,” she informed me, and I nodded.

“Lady Lavinia requested to dine in her room.”

“Very well,” I replied with a sigh. “See that she is well attended as part of my personal staff,” I instructed, firm but not harsh.

“Yes, ma’am. I will inform the housekeeper,” she answered before leaving without much ceremony.

I recalled what Rossella had told me about her duties, one of which was dining with the Duke whenever he was at the castle. With little time to freshen up and my stomach growling in protest, I made my way toward the dining hall.