A Guide to Raising a Villainess Chapter 93: Before the storm

Almost two weeks have passed since then. Ti continued to flow as usual, as if wanting to erase that strange day and everything associated with it from my mory.

I tried not to think back to that encounter in the carriage, as if I myself was afraid of awakening sothing undesirable sowhere deep inside .

And yet, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that it was all just a ridiculous misunderstanding, that man’s words would not leave my mind. Sotis I really felt uneasy.

No, I couldn’t say that I believed him. Of course, everything he said about Rubiella sounded like utter nonsense — a ridiculous fabrication worthy only of a madman. A girl capable of changing the world at will? Absolute nonsense.

And yet... sowhere deep in my soul, a tiny, barely noticeable uneasiness had taken root — a tiny pinch of doubt, the cause of which I myself did not know.

I tried to live as before, imrsing myself in my usual activities and chores — all of which helped to distract and create the illusion of normality. But sotis, when I happened to hear a familiar lody playing from ti to ti in this world, I involuntarily rembered my conversation with that person and what I didn’t really want to believe.

As for Roger... there had been no word from him during all this ti. No letters, no notes. At first, I tried not to think about it — after all, he often traveled on business and might simply not have had the opportunity to write.

But as the days passed, I found myself increasingly preoccupied with a disturbing thought: what if sothing serious had happened?

I tried to push these dark thoughts away, convincing myself that everything was actually fine. However, the longer I waited, the more doubts I had.

I rembered the day I saw him for the last ti. Yes, now I understood that sothing was really wrong with him then.

I didn’t ask him about it at the ti, thinking that everything would work itself out. But now, rembering that conversation, I couldn’t shake the unpleasant feeling that I had missed sothing important — so detail or sign that was now impossible to recover.

It’s not that I was overly concerned — we weren’t that close, after all. But still, I couldn’t be completely indifferent.

Roger Dickens, whoever he was — a love interest, a character in a ga, or just a person who happened to be nearby — he was still a genuinely good person to .

His actions, words, and attitude all commanded respect. And so I couldn’t wish him any harm.

With these thoughts, I took another deep breath, trying to calm myself, but sowhere deep down, a strange feeling settled in — as if sothing elusive, quiet, and oppressive was gathering in the air, like the shadow of an approaching storm. I didn’t know where it ca from, but I felt it more and more clearly with each passing day.

So, almost two weeks after our last eting, a letter was delivered to our estate.

The snow-white envelope was adorned with a wax seal — the Dickens family crest, already familiar to in every detail. I couldn’t help but feel excited. For a few monts, I just stared at the envelope, not daring to open it, as if I were afraid to find out what was inside.

Finally, overcoming this strange feeling, I carefully tore open the edge and took out a sheet of thick paper folded in four. The handwriting was elegant but confident. However, as soon as my eyes skimd over the first line, I frowned.

The letter was not from Roger.

The sender was listed as Duke Dickens.

The feeling of anxiety, which had been barely perceptible until then, now pierced with renewed force. I unfolded the letter and began to read.

"Lady Weinstein,

Please forgive for contacting you so suddenly, but the circumstances in which I currently find myself compel to write to you without delay.

I am well aware that my letter may cause you so confusion, but believe , the reasons that have prompted to contact you are more than serious. I need to speak with you personally about a matter that requires caution and cannot be delayed.

It concerns my son, Roger. I cannot explain the details in writing, as I fear that such a letter could fall into the wrong hands. All I can say now is that the situation causes deep concern, and I need your presence and understanding.

Therefore, I ask you to co to our estate at the earliest opportunity.

Sincerely,William Dickens."

The duke’s ssage was short, but it left perplexed.

I reread the letter twice, trying to comprehend every word. The duke’s handwriting was as smooth and elegant as ever, but there was sothing else shining through it — a subtle anxiety, as if the person holding the pen had written this letter with inner tension.

"...It’s about Roger..."

That phrase stuck in my mind. My heart sank involuntarily.

Sothing had happened. I had almost no doubt about that.

But what exactly? And why did the duke decide to address this to ? Could I have anything to do with it?

I looked down at the letter again. The words "a matter requiring caution" and "cannot be delayed" echoed alarmingly in my head.

Well, if the Duke of Dickens himself had taken the trouble to write to personally, then the matter really could not be delayed.

He never wasted ti on empty formalities, and he certainly wouldn’t bother without a good reason.

So, after a mont’s hesitation, I made my decision.

Whatever the reasons for his letter, I had to go.

I called Nura and told her to prepare a traveling dress and pack the necessary things in the morning. The girl was slightly surprised, but did not dare to ask any questions.

I saw a shadow of concern flash in her eyes, but she just nodded politely and hurried to carry out the order.

And I sat in silence for a while, holding the letter in my hands and involuntarily rereading it over and over again.

Finally, I took a deep breath and resolutely put the paper down on the table.

No, there was no point in tornting myself with guesses. I would find out everything as soon as I arrived at the estate.

Until then, all I could do was wait — and try not to let my anxiety get the better of .

Nevertheless, I still had so ti before my departure.

To distract myself from my thoughts, I decided to have breakfast with Ruby.

When I entered the dining room, Ruby was already sitting at the long table, holding her spoon neatly and stirring her porridge intently.

"Good morning, Auntie," Ruby said, looking up at with her clear blue eyes.

"Good morning, sweetie," I replied, taking my seat across from her. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No, I was waiting for you."

I smiled. This gesture of consideration always seed to touch a little. As expected, my niece was always very sweet.

We ate in silence for a while.

Ruby was the first to break the silence.

"Auntie," she said, putting down her spoon, "you look tired. Did you sleep badly?"

I thought for a mont, then smiled gently, trying to hide my fatigue behind my usual friendliness.

"A little," I admitted. "I have so things to do, and I think I’m thinking about them too much."

"Things?" she asked, tilting her head. "Are you going sowhere?"

I put my cup down for a mont and looked at her.

"Yes," I replied after a short pause. "I have to visit Duke Dickens’ estate today."

Ruby frowned slightly.

"Duke Dickens?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"Don’t worry, I won’t be long. I’ll definitely be back for dinner."

Hearing my answer, the girl nodded silently, but her gaze lingered on a little longer than usual. There was sothing pensive about it, and for a mont it even seed to that the girl wanted to say sothing but changed her mind.

"Okay, Auntie," she finally said after a short pause. "Then I hope you have a good ti."

I involuntarily raised my eyebrows.

"Hmm? What do you an?" I asked.

Ruby looked up at and smiled. The smile seed mysterious to .

"I think," she said softly, bowing her head slightly, "that today will be unforgettable for you, Auntie."

Her words sounded calm, but there was sothing about them that sent a slight chill down my spine.

"Unforgettable?" I asked, smiling slightly. "Well... maybe," I tried to smile back, "maybe it will be."

I didn’t know why I suddenly felt uneasy. Perhaps it was because of the strange confidence with which she said it. Or maybe it was just that the morning was too quiet, as if a storm was brewing.

Ruby just lowered her eyes again, continuing to stir her tea. But there was still sothing elusive in her face, as if between the lines of her innocent words there was a hint of sothing more — a premonition that I couldn’t quite recognize.