Chapter 55 - The Duchess’ Debut

The grand ballroom of the Imperial Palace glittered with thousands of candlelights and crystal chandeliers. Gilded columns lined the walls, and an orchestra played softly in the corner, setting a romantic yet formal mood. Noblewomen in gowns of every color swirled past, their laughter delicate and carefully measured. Gentlemen stood in groups, nursing wine and sharing whispered gossip.

All of them turned their heads when the Duke and Duchess of Hellgrave made their entrance.

Verbena stood tall, her sapphire gown cascading in waves like the midnight sea, the silver bracelet Theodore gave her catching the light with every step. Her arm rested lightly on his, their movements perfectly in sync—a picture-perfect couple. A dangerous illusion.

"She's even more beautiful than the rumors," someone whispered.

"And they say the Duke smiles at her now. Can you imagine?"

"Smiles? The Hellgrave Duke?"

Verbena heard every word. Of course she did. She was trained in eavesdropping at this point. But what made her heart skip wasn't the gossip—it was the gentle squeeze of Theodore's hand on hers.

"Relax," he murmured near her ear. "You look like you're ready to bolt."

"I am," she admitted through her smile. "This is terrifying."

"Then lean on me."

It was such a simple offer, and yet it made her throat tighten. This wasn't part of the plan. The plan was to fake it until the divorce, not to… trust him. But tonight, under the eyes of the entire aristocracy, she chose to pretend a little harder.

She leaned closer, and the crowd saw a devoted wife clinging to her husband. A perfect lie.

---

The first hour passed in a blur of greetings, curtsies, and polite conversation. Verbena performed flawlessly—smiling sweetly, laughing at the right jokes, even fluttering her eyelashes at the elderly duke who clearly adored charming young ladies.

Theodore stood beside her the entire time, his hand either on the small of her back or her waist, a possessive gesture none of the ladies missed.

"Isn't it strange?" Lady Estella, glittering in gold, murmured to her circle. "He used to avoid her like the plague. Now he can't stop touching her."

"Do you think she bewitched him?" another asked.

"Or perhaps," Estella smirked, "she learned some tricks in the bedroom."

Verbena, passing by just close enough to hear, almost choked on her champagne. These women are scandalous!

Theodore noticed her expression and leaned down. "What did you hear?"

"Nothing suitable for innocent ears," she muttered.

"Then it's perfect for mine." He grinned, wicked and devastating.

---

When the first dance was announced, Theodore held out his hand. "Shall we?"

Verbena's heart skipped. "You hate dancing."

"For you, I'll endure."

They stepped onto the floor, and the music swelled—a sweeping waltz designed to bring couples dangerously close. Theodore's hand settled firmly on her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her free hand rested on his shoulder, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his coat.

They moved effortlessly, despite his claim of hating dance. His eyes never left hers.

"You've been hiding skills from me," she accused softly.

"There's much you don't know about me." His voice was lower now, intimate.

The ballroom seemed to fade as they spun, their steps slowing until they were barely dancing—just holding each other, swaying gently.

"You're different tonight," she whispered. "Less grumpy."

"And you're glowing."

Her face burned. "Flattery doesn't suit you."

"It's not flattery. It's the truth."

For one dangerous second, Verbena forgot they were pretending. She forgot about her plans, her secrets, her fear of getting attached. She only saw the man holding her like she was something precious.

The music ended, and applause filled the air. Verbena stepped back, heart racing, unsure if it was from the dance or the way he looked at her.

---

But the night wasn't done with surprises.

As they returned to the edge of the ballroom, a loud voice rang out.

"The Duke of Hellgrave and his lovely Duchess!"

Verbena's stomach sank. That voice. She knew it.

A man stepped forward, smile as bright as his golden hair. Crown Prince Lucien.

"Oh no," Verbena whispered.

Theodore's grip on her waist tightened, subtle but unmistakable.

The prince strolled up to them, bowing slightly to Theodore before taking Verbena's hand and brushing a kiss over her knuckles.

"My dear Duchess, you are a vision tonight," Lucien purred.

She forced a smile. "Your Highness flatters me."

"Not at all." His eyes sparkled with something dangerous—something only Verbena could recognize. Because this prince was not part of the original story. This was something new. Something unpredictable.

And if there was one thing Verbena hated, it was unpredictability.

"Enjoy the ball, your Grace." Lucien's smile lingered before he stepped away, leaving a trail of unease behind him.

Theodore leaned down. "Care to explain why the crown prince looks at you like you're his next meal?"

"No clue," Verbena lied. "I've never met him before."

Another perfect lie.

Because in her first life, before her bakery failed and before her death, Crown Prince Lucien was her customer.

And he remembered.

---

End of Chapter 55