The Debt Of Fate-Chapter 275: reconcile 1

Soft morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains, spilling warmth across the silken sheets. The air was still heavy with the scent of lavender and rose oil from the night before — the same fragrance that lingered faintly on Anastasia’s skin.

Ernest lay awake, his arm draped lazily across the bed, watching her from the corner of his eye. She was facing him, her lashes resting against her cheeks, her breathing even and delicate — a perfect imitation of sleep. He almost laughed.

She had been pretending for a while now.

The corner of his mouth curved. He could still recall the quiet shyness that had melted into passion the night before — the way her hesitation had turned into warmth. Now, she was trying to act as though none of it had happened.

He reached for the robe beside the bed but moved slowly, making just enough sound to test her resolve. Her lashes fluttered — barely — and then stilled again. Ernest hid a smirk.

So, she wanted to play.

He swung his legs off the bed, taking his time to fasten his robe, glancing at her every few seconds. When he turned toward the table to pour himself a cup of water, Anastasia’s fingers twitched.

She waited a while, expecting to hear him leave the room, but when there was no movement, curiosity got the better of her. She opened her eyes slightly to sneak a peek — only to find Ernest turning around at that exact moment. Their eyes met.

Anastasia wanted to close her eyes again and pretend to sleep, but it felt foolish now. Clearing her throat softly, she turned toward the window with a sigh. "My lord, you seem late."

Ernest chuckled under his breath. "Am I? Seeing you still sleeping, I thought it was quite early."

Anastasia sat up, tugging the blanket closer to her chest, her cheeks faintly pink. "I overslept. I must have been tired," she murmured. It was her second marriage, but her first true night of intimacy, and her body ached with both shyness and unfamiliarity.

"Did I tire you out last night?" he teased, stepping closer with a sly smile.

"That’s not what I mean," Anastasia protested, flushing deeper, unsure what the proper answer should be.

"So, are you complaining, my lady?" Ernest raised a brow.

"No, that’s not what I mean," Anastasia said quickly. Now that he was so close, she couldn’t help but recall fragments of the night before.

"Then explain, dear wife — what do you mean?" he asked, his tone rich with mischief.

Anastasia’s lips parted, but no words came out.

"Or perhaps," Ernest murmured, stepping closer, "you’ve forgotten already, and need me to remind you."

He was about to continue teasing her when a hurried knock came at the door.

"Who is it?" Ernest called, straightening, a trace of annoyance in his voice. Anastasia, however, felt a surge of relief.

A servant’s muffled voice answered, "My lord, Duke Thompson and the Duchess have come to call. They await your presence in the main hall."

Anastasia froze. The blood drained from her face.

Her father? If she could still call him that. Since their last meeting — when he announced that she was no longer his daughter — she had given up on him. She had thought that, after the incident the previous evening, they would finally let her be. She never expected them to come calling so early in the morning.

If she was not mistaken, she guessed the Duke had come early to meet Ernest — to force her into reconciliation.

Ernest caught the flicker of unease in her eyes and reached for her hand. "You need not see them if you do not wish to," he said quietly.

Anastasia shook her head slowly. "He came all this way. It would be improper to refuse," she replied. Still, she thought this might be the perfect chance to cut ties once and for all. She rose and began to select a dress.

"Do you want your legitimate daughter’s title back?" Ernest asked as he helped her choose a gown.

Anastasia paused. "Do you mind that I’ve been disowned?" she countered softly.

After all the hurt of her childhood, she no longer wanted any connection with Duke Thompson — especially knowing now that he wasn’t her biological father. Yet she also worried that her tarnished reputation might affect Ernest.

Seeing her sadness, Ernest’s expression softened. He stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. "I can help you regain all that was taken from you," he said gently.

Anastasia sighed. "Would it be all right," she whispered, "if I don’t want anything to do with them?"

Before Ernest could answer, the servant spoke again from outside the door. "My lord, shall we entertain the guests or see them out?"

"Entertain the guests," Ernest replied.

--- 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

Duke Thompson’s Visit

Duke Thompson and his wife sat stiffly in the reception hall of the general’s residence. The air was quiet except for the soft crackle of the brazier. A full half-hour had passed since their arrival, and though the servants had served tea, neither the Duke nor the Duchess had touched it.

Duchess Anita’s irritation showed plainly in the way she tapped her fan against her lap. "We have been waiting far too long," she muttered under her breath, her tone sharp. "Even the King would not keep one waiting this long without a valid reason. Is this how a daughter greets her parents?"

Duke Thompson’s jaw tightened. He, too, felt the sting of embarrassment. The servants bowed respectfully whenever they entered, yet none offered an explanation for the delay.

"Enough," he murmured, though his expression betrayed his displeasure. "Do not forget why we are here."

Anita drew a steadying breath, remembering how much depended on this visit. "Barely three days married, and she already acts so high and mighty," she muttered. "Let us see how long that title shields her once the general tires of her."

Before the Duke could respond, the double doors opened.

Ernest entered first, dressed in a dark military robe with silver embroidery that caught the morning light. His bearing was calm, his expression unreadable — the confidence of a man accustomed to command. Beside him walked Anastasia, graceful in a pale blue gown that softened her features. She carried herself with quiet dignity, her steps unhurried, her head held high.

The Duke rose at once. "General Ernest," he greeted, his tone polite but uncertain.

"Your Grace," Ernest replied smoothly, bowing slightly in acknowledgment before gesturing toward Anastasia. "My wife and I apologize for the delay. The morning was... unexpectedly occupied." His words were calm, but there was a faint hint of amusement in his eyes — a subtle reminder that in this house, it was he who set the pace.

The Duke felt the sting of the remark but, since he was here to make peace, he only nodded. His gaze shifted to Anastasia.

"Your Grace, Your Ladyship," Anastasia said, lowering her head respectfully in greeting.

Duchess Anita’s lips curved into a delicate, insincere smile. "It has been some time, Anastasia. You’ve... settled in quickly, I see."

Anastasia smiled faintly. "It is peaceful here."

Ernest motioned to the servants. "Bring fresh tea for our guests." He waited until they were seated before leading Anastasia to sit beside him — deliberately close, a silent show of unity.

Duke Thompson cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, especially since Anastasia had not addressed him as ’Father.’

"I did not expect you to call so soon after the wedding," Ernest said evenly. "To what do we owe the honor?"

The Duke hesitated, glancing briefly at his wife before replying, "We heard of the marriage and came to offer our congratulations. The Duke’s family wishes you happiness." He gestured for his servant, Mamod, to present the gift.

Anastasia’s gaze flickered. Judging from the size and embellishment of the box, she could tell it was far more valuable than what Elizabeth had brought the previous day.

"My wife and I thank Your Grace for your blessing," Ernest said with a polite smile.

Seeing Ernest’s courteous tone, Anita quickly joined in. "We only wish to reconcile. The past was... unfortunate. Your father had duties to uphold, but unlike me, who is a stepmother, he has always cared for his daughter. I’m sure you understand, as a daughter, the burden of maintaining appearances in difficult times."

Anastasia’s lips curved into a faint, polite smile. "Indeed, I understand appearances very well, your grace. They often hide what the heart truly feels."

The words hung in the air not openly disrespectful, yet edged with quiet truth.

Duke Thompson’s face stiffened with embarrassment, but he forced himself to remain composed. "General, if you do not mind, I would like to have a word with my daughter alone," he said at last. He had planned to use Ernest’s presence to pressure Anastasia, but now realized that Ernest was her greatest support.

"Your Grace," Anastasia replied before Ernest could speak, "you must have made a mistake. Lady Elizabeth is not here."