BETRAYAL OF DIGNITY
Part 9
Damien
Damien perused the letter once more, having read it quickly the first time. Chloe's correspondence was much like her previous ones-meticulously penned, her words chosen with precision.
The letter contained no hints of unease, offering a detailed account of developments on the Verdier estate and expressing gratitude to the Duke. Certain sections bordered on verbosity, particularly when she praised his achievements, yet even these lacked any personal sentiment. The letter as a whole felt soul-less-except for one particular part.
Yours sincerely,
Chloe Verdier
Damien chuckled as he opened his desk drawer, adding this most recent letter to the mounting stack. Each letter she had sent featured the same signature.
"Chloe Verdier," Damien murmured to himself.
Leaning against the window, he let out a low laugh. This was precisely what intrigued him about her. Although the envelope was clearly addressed from the Duchess of Thisse, Chloe had never once signed her name as Chloe von Thisse.
Damien glanced at the most recent issue of The Red Veil, left behind by Lady Isabella during her earlier visit. The tabloid must have profited handsomely from the prominent feature of him and the Marquise on the front page.
How had Chloe reacted upon seeing this? Most likely, she had been overcome with humiliation. Since she was a woman who prized propriety and respectability, perhaps she had wept, unable to bear the shame. No, it was more likely that she had widened her brown eyes, which reminded him of sweet chocolate mixed with a dollop of cream, and held back her tears as she always did-unaware that this was the very habit that excited him.
Damien took a sip of his wine, savoring the heightened flavor. The artist responsible for their exaggerated depiction on the front page would undoubtedly be celebrating his newfound fortune with a feast that night. A scandal involving a young, influential duke and a wealthy marquise, who had gained fame when she inherited a vast fortune from her late husband, was bound to be irresistible fodder for gossip.
Damien flipped to the back page of the tabloid, which featured an article detailing the recent screams heard from the basement of the royal palace and the unsettling rumors that a number of ladies-in-waiting and servants had been discovered dead, completely drained of their blood.
No one publicly admitted to reading the third-rate tabloid that he personally funded. However, there was not a single noble he knew who did not secretly keep a copy tucked away in their homes.
After the war, the farmers and merchants had gradually seen their lives improve, and they had eagerly consumed the sensational tales of the high and mighty. Meanwhile, the royal court had officially announced its intent to severely punish those responsible for spreading unverified rumors.
The reason they had not launched a full-scale investigation, however, was that Damien occasionally leaked news that aligned with the royal courts interests, a fact he was well aware of.
Amidst rumors about the King's deteriorating health, the position of Prince Johannes, the heir to the royal throne, has solidified. With Duke Thisse-a war hero, the kingdom's most successful businessman, and the son of a princess-embroiled in a scandal, it is only natural that the public has turned against him. Will God forgive the Duke's secret love affairs with other women during what should be his honeymoon?
Damien lightly drummed his fingers on the desk, the tabloid spread before him. His thoughts wandered to Chloe. He longed to know what she was thinking, and he would have given anything to comprehend the inner workings of her delicate head.
"I believe it is power that you want."
Chloe usually avoided his gaze or cast her eyes downward.
But on the occasions when she dared to meet his eyes and spoke directly to him, a strange, unbearably intense feeling rose within him. Damien reached for the sheepskin gloves resting neatly on the table. As he clenched his fists around the gloves, softened from frequent use, the blue veins on his large hands protruded.
