A gentle knock at the door came just as Serena was halfway through her musings. Rika entered moments later, balancing a silver tray laden with delicate cakes and crisp, golden biscuits. Her steps were light, her face bright with the usual cheerful energy that followed her like sunlight.
"Your afternoon treats, Your Grace!" she announced with a grin.
Right behind her came Dyanne, expression calm but ever-serious.
"Pardon the interruption," Dyanne said with a small bow. "What would you prefer for dinner this evening?"
Serena reached out and took a small piece of chocolate cake, brushing away a stray crumb as she settled more comfortably into the cushions. "Anything will do," she replied softly. "The chef is always good at what he does."
Dyanne gave a small nod of acknowledgment, while Rika beamed proudly, as though she herself had prepared the meal.
The two maids couldn't have been more different. Dyanne—tall, composed, and reserved—was always proper, always alert. She took her duties with a seriousness that made her a pillar in Serena's otherwise modest household. Rika, on the other hand, was warmth in motion—talkative, bubbly, and often found humming to herself as she worked. Yet both had proven loyal and discreet, the kind of women Serena trusted.
Outside the study, the annex was quiet, as it always was. Only around twenty servants were assigned to this wing of the estate—a fraction compared to the main household. The budget reflected that. Modest meals, limited staff, aging furniture, and worn but tidy floors. It wasn't enough to live with dignity.
Serena bit into a biscuit and let the buttery flavor melt on her tongue. As she chewed, her thoughts drifted toward the conversation she'd had just days ago with Aiden, the head butler.
He had gently urged her—again—to consider renovating the annex. "It reflects poorly on the house of Selwyn," he had said, with his usual polite concern. "A duchess should not have to live with peeling paint and creaking windows."
Of course she wanted to. She longed to breathe new life into the space, to make it look like a home. But after food expenses, the servants' monthly wages, and countless other necessities, there was hardly anything left. What little remained, she kept locked away for true emergencies. There were no savings. No allowances.
Serena sipped her tea and glanced at the sunlight pooling across her rug.
If i weren't secretly writing novels… I wouldn't even have enough money to buy daily necessities for us. The money that they gave us is so little that we won't even last for a year.
As Serena nibbled on the last piece of biscuit, her thoughts began to drift again—half tangled in numbers, half caught in fragments of story ideas.
A firm knock at the door cut through the stillness.
"Come in," she called, straightening a little.
The door opened to reveal Aiden, the ever-composed head butler. His uniform was impeccable, as always, his silver-streaked hair slicked neatly back. He stepped in with a bow.
"Greetings, Your Grace," he said in his smooth, measured voice. "The Duke wishes to speak with you tomorrow morning."
Serena's mind swirled with countless thoughts.
The Duke?
Her brow furrowed slightly before she caught herself and softened her expression. The current Duke Selwyn—her late husband's son—had rarely ever spoken to her directly. After becoming the head of the household, he had ensured that no scandal would fall on the family's name, especially concerning his young stepmother. He assigned her this annex, maintained his appearance, and kept things quiet. But he never showed interest. Not in her life. Not in her thoughts.
For him to summon her now—after all this time—was strange.
Suspicious, even.
Serena forced a calm smile, hiding the flicker of unease that passed through her. "Very well. I will go," she replied simply, dismissing Aiden with a polite nod.
The butler bowed again and exited, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
Left alone once more, Serena leaned back against the cushions and looked up at the ceiling.
What does he want now?