-CHAPTER 18-
There was so much to unpack here, Félix reasoned to himself privately. For one, he had so many questions — a whole barrage of them — clawing at his insides as he wrestled with the degree of possible harm his thoughtless act of outing her for stealing from him might have caused.
Not only that, but he was also heavily curious about the woman in front of him. Who having now returned to her former place on the upholstered dual-seater by way of the wall, she sobbed intensely into a clean handkerchief Bach had presented her with, her shoulders rocking riotously.
The little cloth didn't seem all that clean now after she'd taken a quick swipe at blowing snot into it, roughening the base of her nasal bridge with the rest of the fabric.
Félix pushed out from the vintage straight-backed chair, overwhelmed by the sea of confusing emotions threatening to drown him under. Who was this woman?
More importantly, where had she come from? Why was she here, advocating for his forgiveness on Estella's behalf? What was her relationship with the girl in question? What had driven her to risk coming here, not knowing whether he would even let her make her case?
By God, he wanted to know—was literally dying to know. What had happened to Estella right after he left? Did they inflict harm on her in any way? Had he, the baron, commanded it? How desperate was this woman before him that she'd risked coming to him so early in the morning?
Her snivelling began to ease, and her breathing became shallower as her form took on a more relaxed stance. Félix glanced at the workers who'd attended to the broken cup, now uniformly filing out one after another. Bach, however, was the last one to leave.
Offering a firm, not too over-the-top nod at the others, he moved over to the woman's side in an attempt to ask if she needed anything, something to soothe her mood—perhaps tea again or something else—but she quickly shook her head, signalling that he needn't bother. Looking Bach's way, Félix gave him a subtle look, telling him to excuse himself.
"Now that it's back to just the two of us," Félix said without sparing a moment's breath the instant his butler left. "Let us start with the most important question of all: who are you? And why are you here?"
"Your Grace, I will answer now," the woman blew into the handkerchief again, sniffled, and then said, "To answer your first question, Your Grace, the name is Lovetta, and I work as a maid at Baron Estefan's house."
Félix hummed unconvincingly. "Did the baron sanction your coming here?"
"He didn't, Your Grace," she said, shaking her head rigidly, hard enough to give anyone a tension headache. The duke got dizzy from just looking at her.
"Go on. Speak," Félix said, giving her the floor. He then eased back into his chair, letting her think he was open to whatever she had to say.
"Thank you once again for indulging my audience, Your Grace," she said, then bowed slightly.
Félix blinked in response, acknowledging that she could continue her talk.
"To start with," Lovetta said, shifting in her seat, "no one in the baron's house knows I have come here. And I do not know what punishment awaits me should I go back after now, but someone had to do it. Because a young girl's life is hanging by a thread right now."
Félix's face contorted into a scowl as he did not appreciate the woman's way of beating about the bush. But let her be, he thought. Better that than having to make her go through another sobbing contest. He wasn't entirely over her last performance as of yet.
"As we speak, Estella's life is hanging on a balance scale and could tip over to the wrong side at any chance. Last week," Lovetta pressed her eyelids shut as if to block out the noise of her own doubts warring inside her. Swallowing a lump lodged in her throat, she continued, "Last week, after Lady Agatha's ball, the baron's family returned from the occasion, taking heated gaits that charged up the house."
Félix straightened up from reclining, especially seeing as Lovetta still wouldn't open her eyes.
"At first," she went on, "I didn't quite understand what the aggression was about until I overheard one of the girls say she had annoyed the Viscount, I think, by stepping on his foot or something—"
Félix fought back the impulse to laugh.
"—but the baroness and her daughters had been so angry, and Estella was beaten badly by both girls and then made to lift a bucket of water from that night until the day you visited—"
"What!?" Félix charged up at once. "And what did the baron do about this? About his daughter getting mistreated in his own house?"
Lovetta held back her tongue and smacked her lips. She still would not open her eyes.
"For a total of forty-eight hours and some, Estella was forbidden from eating or drinking anything. She had not been allowed to change out of her ball clothes, but that was the least of her punishments. She encountered worse torment at the hands of the baron's henchman, and now, after your visit, the family threw her out into the cold to die. By that, I mean they have locked her away in a place with no windows or holes. That is hardly enough punishment for any girl her age…"
Lovetta opened her eyes just in time to witness Félix slumping back in his seat. How dare he? Was all the Duke thought, a swell of rage itching to burst right through him. His anger would not abate. Not after Lovetta's testaments of Estella's hardships.
But he also knew his hands were tied. Upstairs in his bedroom was the princess, who had made clear her intention of staying for a day or more, and she'd meant it this time. She would keep barging in on him every day if he disagreed with her demands. He could well rave on about having full authority to forbid her from coming to his estate, but deep down, he knew he couldn't do it. She was still the princess of England, and until that title remained on her head, he couldn't just treat her however he pleased.
In Estella's case, he had no moral backing with which he could step in to save her. For all he knew, her fate was already decided, for she was set to marry the Viscount in two weeks—or so he'd heard. His source could be wrong. The only way he could morally be of help to Estella was to possibly adopt her since her family clearly did not want her. Félix smirked at that. Of course, he couldn't try that. He was way too attracted to her to make for a candid father-daughter relationship. Besides, what father kissed his child on the lips, passionately too, and under a bloody full moon?
"No one knows how much longer the baroness would have her stay there for, but she has instructed us not to give her food or even water—"
"Why are you telling me this?" Félix bit back with a force that surprised even him.
"Your Grace?" Lovetta blinked, confused.
"I asked a simple question. What does your telling me this hope to achieve out of all this? Did you forget how she stole from me?"
"Your… Your Grace…" Lovetta started tremblingly. "I… let me repay her debt and… and I can work here as said before. Trust that I am a very hard worker—"
"I don't need new help."
Lovetta's eyes fell wide open, nearly touching the floor.
"My butler will show you out the door," Félix rose suddenly. "Our discussion is done here."