Soft afternoon light filtered through tall, arched windows, illuminating the delicate porcelain teacups and silver spoons that adorned each table of the tea room. The air was filled with the quiet murmur of polite conversation and the scent of expensive tea and freshly baked pastries.
It was in this bastion of decorum that the Dowager Duchess Elena found herself sitting opposite a ghost from her past: Baron Edgar Ellington.
"How long has it been,Elena?" Edgar said, his voice a low rumble that felt out of place in the delicate room. He sat across from her, a wry smile on his aged face. "Twenty years? Or is it thirty now?"
Elena seed entirely uninterested in his trip down mory lane. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea, her gaze fixed on a point just over his shoulder.
Edgar chuckled, a dry, raspy sound. "The last ti we t, you were standing just outside my study door while the guards you had called on were graciously escorting out." He shook his head at the mory. "I will never forget that day."
"You reap what you sow, Edgar," Elena replied, her voice as cool and crisp as a winter morning. She finally t his gaze, her eyes holding no warmth. "You cheated . You took a large portion of the profit from our shipping venture that was ant to be shared equally between both of our textile establishnt."
"So you still hold a grudge against after all these years," he said, stating the obvious.
"Of course, I hold a grudge," she retorted. "How can I be neutral and happy with a man who ripped off? The money you stole from was from my own hard work , my own blood, sweat, and tears after my husband let it behind."
"Fine," Edgar said, his playful tone vanishing. He reached down beside his chair and placed a small but heavy sack made of dark velvet on the table between them. It landed with a satisfyingly heavy thud. "Take this, then. Take it and let us finally forget about the past."
Elena’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. She untied the leather cord and opened the sack. Inside, a hoard of gold coins glittered in the afternoon light.
"One million gold coins," Edgar said, his voice full of a pride he couldn’t conceal. Elena looked up at him, shocked. "That’s all the money I ripped you off for, every single penny, with interest accounted for over thirty years."
Elena stared at the gold, then back at Edgar’s earnest face. She slowly closed the sack, her expression one of utter disbelief. "The great, egotistical Baron Edgar is returning money he stole from ," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. She paused, her eyes suspicious. "Why?"
"I want you to take good care of my granddaughter, Delia," Edgar replied, his voice suddenly losing its bluster, replaced by a raw sincerity. "She has been through a lot in her life. She was brought into the Ellington family after her mother’s death, knowing nothing of our world. She has had such a hard life, especially since her father, my Henry, who was always by her side, beca bedridden. But through it all, she doesn’t resent anyone. She is a good girl."
He leaned forward, his expression pleading. "The only thing she has ever truly wanted for herself is this chance to marry your grandson. I don’t want my past mistakes with you to hinder that happiness. I want to make this happen for her."
Elena listened to his speech, her expression unreadable. She had already decided, after the events at the orphanage, that she was intrigued by Delia. The girl had spirit and a clever mind. She had already decided to give her a chance. This grand, monetary gesture from Edgar was not a bribe; it was an insult to her own judgnt.
She tied the sack securely and pushed it back across the table to him. "I don’t want this."
Edgar pushed it back to her. "Why must you always be like this, Elena?"
She pushed it back again, more forcefully this ti. "Look here, Edgar, I will not accept this. You cannot bribe with my own money. You cannot fix a thirty-year-old wound with gold." She relaxed back in her seat, a look of disdain on her face. "Honestly. What a showoff. Give a break."
"But I’m not showing off," Edgar insisted. "I am genuinely trying to give back what I stole."
"Are you giving, Edgar, or are you bribing?" she asked, her voice sharp.
Edgar was quiet.
Elena scoffed, a short, sharp sound of victory. "I thought so." She began to gather her things. "By the way, I don’t want your money. I will pretend we never had this eting, and I suggest you don’t try to reach out to again. Goodbye."
She stood up to leave, but before she could take a single step, Edgar did sothing utterly shocking. He slid from his chair and went down on his knees on the floor of the crowded tea room.
Elena stood frozen in shock. The quiet murmur of the tea room died down as people began to notice the scene. A table of young, giggling girls turned to stare openly, their hands flying to their mouths to suppress their laughter.
"Don’t do this, please," Edgar pleaded, his voice loud enough for the entire room to hear. "How else can I convey how I feel?"
Elena, embarrassed by the sudden, unwelco attention, looked around frantically. "Wh-what is wrong with you?" she stamred, her cheeks flushing a deep red. "What are you doing? Get up!"
But Edgar put his hands together, pleading sincerely. "Money is the only way I know how to show how I feel! Tell what you want, Elena! I’ll do anything! Just please, I beg you, don’t use our past... my past mistakes... against Delia."
To the other patrons, this didn’t look like a business dispute. It looked like a desperate, elderly man begging his forr lover for a second chance. The giggles from the young girls grew louder.
"Oh, how romantic!" one of them whispered.
"He must have broken her heart years ago."
Feeling deeply uncomfortable with the escalating spectacle, Elena had had enough. "I would rather let the earth split open and swallow whole than to let people think we have sothing together,"
she hissed at Edgar under her breath.
She proceeded to leave, but Edgar, in his desperation, reached out and held her hand, trying to stop her. "Duchess Elena, please!"
"You insignificant dolt!" she cried, trying to wrench her hand from his grip. "Let go of ! Let go!"
"Please!" Edgar pleaded, his grip tightening. As he did, he mistakenly pulled her glove, and it slid clean off her hand, revealing the pale, delicate skin of her arm to the entire room.
The public un-gloving of a Duchess was a scandalous, intimate act. Edgar imdiately stopped begging, his mouth falling open as he realized the gravity of his mistake. He looked at her bare arm, then at her face, his own expression now one of profound, apologetic horror.
Elena opened her mouth in shock, her face a mask of outrage. "For the love of God," she said, her voice trembling with fury. She snatched the glove from his hand. Then, with a speed that defied her age, she knocked him soundly on the side of the head with the hard edge of her folded fan.
Without another word, she turned and stord out of the tea room, leaving Baron Edgar kneeling on the floor, holding his head, amidst the shocked silence and stifled giggles of the entire room.
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