I held his gaze for a heartbeat before answering.
"I don't think there's a specific day."
The Duke remained silent.
His expression gave nothing away.
I continued carefully.
"I simply... wandered into it one afternoon."
"After avoiding it for years."
It wasn't a question.
"It was neglected."
"That was intentional."
"I know."
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
His eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly.
"Do you?"
A dangerous question.
I folded my hands neatly in my lap, buying myself a moment to think.
"I asked the gardeners why no one maintained it. They told me it had belonged to Mother."
"They also told you I forbade anyone from restoring it?"
I nodded.
"They did."
"And yet you ignored my orders."
"I believed they no longer applied."
Silence.
I could practically hear my heartbeat.
The Duke leaned back in his chair.
"Tell me why."
Why?
Because when I wandered into that garden and overwhelming feeling of sadness had washed over me. Courtesy of the former Elara.
Because a woman who loved it had died, and everyone left it to rot like she had never existed.
Because it deserved better.
But none of those were answers Lady Elara would've given.
"I thought it was a waste."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"A waste."
"Yes."
I looked around the study before returning my gaze to him.
"You've preserved Mother's portraits."
I gestured toward a painting hanging above one of the bookshelves.
"You've preserved her letters."
Another glance toward an antique cabinet.
"The music room remains exactly as she left it."
His face remained unreadable.
"But the one place she loved most was abandoned."
The room fell impossibly still.
"So I restored it."
Neither of us spoke.
I couldn't tell if I'd said too much.
Finally, the Duke looked away.
His eyes lingered on the window overlooking the estate.
"When your mother died," he said quietly, "the gardeners asked whether they should continue tending it."
His voice was even and controlled as though he were discussing the weather.
"I told them no."
I blinked.
"I expected nature to reclaim it."
That wasn't the answer I'd expected.
"Why?"
His gaze shifted back to me.
"Because I couldn't bear seeing someone else change what she had built."
Something in his expression softened for the briefest instant.
"It was the last place she stood before illness confined her to bed."
The softness vanished.
"I had intended to restore it someday."
His fingers brushed lightly against the papers on his desk.
"That day never came."
For the first time since entering the study, I saw not the Duke of Viremont.
But a widower.
One who had buried himself in duty because it was easier than grieving.
I lowered my eyes and decided to say what the former Elara would never have.
"I'm sorry."
His gaze sharpened.
"For what?"
"For reopening an old wound."
A long silence followed.
"I did not summon you here to discuss my grief."
There it was.
The Duke again. Composed and untouchable.
He pulled the stack of reports toward him.
"Do you recognize these?"
"No."
"They concern your recent conduct."
He slid the first report across the desk.
I glanced down.
It bore the seal of a Countess named Everleigh.
"'Lady Elara conducted herself with remarkable restraint throughout the afternoon. While her reputation remains... unfortunate, I observed no discourtesy toward any guest.'"
I looked up.
The Duke watched me carefully.
"The second."
Another report.
"'Lady Elara appeared almost pleasant.'"
I snorted before I could stop myself.
His expression didn't change.
"I fail to see the humor."
"Sorry."
I cleared my throat.
"It just sounds strange."
"'Almost pleasant'?"
"...Fair point."
He picked up another letter.
"'Lady Elara smiled at servants.'"
Another.
"'Lady Elara thanked the household staff.'"
Another.
"'Lady Elara personally assisted in preparing refreshments.'"
Another.
"'Lady Elara defended Lady Nevermore from further embarrassment despite possessing every opportunity to retaliate.'"
The pile continued growing.
Each report sounded more absurd than the last.
Yet together they painted a picture of consistency.
The Duke folded his hands.
"Do you understand why these concern me?"
I considered lying.
Instead, I answered honestly.
"Because they aren't things people expect from me."
"No."
His answer came immediately.
"They concern me because they are unpredictable."
He stood.
Even without raising his voice, the room seemed smaller.
"I let you go earlier because I thought it was just an alteration in character but a cruel daughter can be managed."
He walked toward one of the windows.
"An arrogant daughter can be anticipated."
His reflection stared back at him in the glass.
"A reckless daughter can be contained."
Then he turned.
"But a daughter who changes without explanation..."
His gray eyes locked onto mine.
"...becomes an uncertainty and uncertainty is dangerous."
I swallowed because I had understood.
He was thinking like a ruler.
Every noble house survived because its allies and enemies could predict how it would act and I'd unknowingly disrupted that balance.
"I see."
"Do you?"
"I do."
I leaned back slightly.
"I embarrassed the family."
"You confused the nobility."
"Is there a difference?"
"There is."
He returned to his chair.
"Embarrassment fades."
He tapped the reports.
"Curiosity grows. If they begin wondering why you've changed," he continued, "they will investigate."
The implications settled heavily between us.
Investigation meant servants, maids, guards, everyone I'd interacted with.
People would start asking questions.
Questions I couldn't answer.
"I understand."
"I'm pleased."
He regarded me quietly, then reached for another document.
"The steward reports you've been reviewing household expenses."
"Yes."
"The gardeners report you've doubled the flower budget."
"I negotiated a discount."
"The librarian reports you've borrowed six books concerning agriculture."
I winced.
"I can explain."
"I'm listening."
"I got curious."
"About crop rotation."
"Yes. It was for the garden."
The Duke studied me for several long moments.
"You were never curious before."
The original Elara hadn't been. But since I had decided to ditch her personality, that had all changed.
"I've had a great deal of time to think lately."
He didn't reply immediately.
Instead, he opened one of the desk drawers and removed a sealed map.
He placed it between us.
"This estate."
I looked down.
It wasn't the ducal capital, it was much farther north.
A small territory on the edge of the duchy's domain.
"I've received troubling reports."
My eyes lifted to his.
"The harvest has declined for two consecutive years. The local steward insists everything is under control and has requested additional funds."
His fingers rested on the seal.
"I am unconvinced."
I frowned.
"What does this have to do with me?"
He met my gaze.
"You claim your interests have changed, you've shown unexpected restraint, unexpected initiative and judgment."
He slid the map toward me.
"Words and rumors are worthless, so if this change is genuine..."
His voice remained steady.
"...prove it."
I stared at the map.
"You will travel to Ashcroft, inspect the territory and determine why its prosperity has declined."
"And if I fail?"
The Duke's expression hardened once more.
"Then I will conclude that this sudden transformation is nothing more than another passing whim."
Three days.
That was all he'd give me to prepare.
No second chances.
Just responsibility.
For the first time since transmigrating into this world, I wasn't being asked to survive someone else's story.
I was being trusted with writing my own.
I placed a hand over the map and looked my father in the eye.
"I accept."
He studied me for a long moment before giving a single nod.
"See that you do not disappoint House Viremont."
The audience was over.
But as I rose from my chair and turned toward the door, I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just an inspection.
It was an examination.
And whether I passed or failed would determine the future I'd been trying so desperately to build.