Amor Vincit Omnia (✓)

♕ Chapter 14

Julian stared at the piece of paper fetched by John and a devouring wave of frustration encompassed him. If the inquiry was proven to be without fault, a conflict between two Duchies threatened to emerge.

They must have mixed up something. He hoped internally, for attacking the Duke of Westbroke – the one ruled by the man with a moustache – meant losing funds. Indispensable funds.

"Where is Freya?" He asked in a hectic tone, his hand movements betraying his state of spirit.

"Should I tell milady to come?" John uttered, joining his hands in a humble manner.

"Yes, thank you." Julian appreciated his butler's ability to anticipate his desires. Freya was beyond right, he should have been more permissive with him. Perhaps he should grant Sophia's wish to visit the Great Library.

Back to present, you tosser! He scolded himself, but somehow managed to smile brightly when his wife entered the room.

"Hi." She said meekly, placing a feathery kiss on his cheek.

"We need to discuss something of acute urgency." His tone was iron-like once again and Freya could not help but wonder why he felt the need to detach himself from emotions when speaking of important issues.

"Alright. Let's go to the garden."

When regular people referred to gardens, they all presumed a small patch of land covered with limited amount of plants. When Freya made such a reference, it was a completely opposite meaning. The garden of the Duchy was not solely impressive due to its immensity, but also for the harmonious assembly of plants.

Smooth-leaved elms and alders in the external layer of the garden, common junipers and Sessile oaks in the second one, and a few willows enclosing the center lake. An individual affected by colours would consider the land a tad too monotonous, or maybe even dreary, but for Freya – who has recently rediscovered the exquisite beauty of nature – it was more than fulfilling. It was life itself blooming between the evergreen borders of the garden.

There was, indeed, a small garden within the garden that roofed flowers. It was one of the Duchy's greatest prides to own four of the rarest wild species in the entire Great Britain: the spring gentian, the mountain avens, the grass-of-Parnassus and the green-winged orchid. Of course, the flowers of the lovers were present as well, but they were not a centerpiece, as some may suppose.

Sometimes multiple times a day – mostly when hosting ceremonies – but generally once, the gardeners would nurture all plants with the most rigorous care.

Substracting herself from her contemplation, Freya asked her husband what the issue was. He rubbed his eyes, heaving deeply.

"I had the abuser investigated and it turns out that he works as a stable man for the Duchy of Westbroke. You do remember the guest with a moustache, don't you?"

"Don't tell me he is the Duke."

"Yes, he is. And our most influental fund provider. He is a decent man, I have to admit, but he has a particular hatred towards accusations of any sort. Telling him of his employee's misdemeanour would undoubtedly cut us off his list of funded institutions."

Freya felt a stinging burn in her heart. Even though her duty yelled at her to acknowledge the need of financial support, her heart exclaimed otherwise. Of course people would need a stable Duchy, but what about her own torment? Was it so disposable that he would leave her abuser unpunished?

Julian has been able to detect his wife's mood swings ever since he married her, but his ability intensified with the passing of each day. He was more than certain of the impact his words may have upon her. She had to understand that he was in as much pain as she was – torn between sense and sensibility – but as Duke and Duchess, they had to put their instincts aside and follow people's best interest. That was their role and no personal desire was allowed to intervene.