Awakening Love Reborn to Be His Duchess (Elowen Hale) novel Chapter 285

Chapter 285 Wedding Prep And A Trap

Sylvia listened, her feelings tangled up so tight they made her eyes sting. She nodded hard. Elowen pulled her over and had her sit beside her on the daybed.

Cora appeared at just the right moment with fresh juice.

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Elowen suddenly remembered something. “Wait. Your wedding date, the one written right into the Royal Decree. It’s December first, right?”

Sylvia cradled the cup in both hands and nodded. “Yes. That’s what the decree says.”

“Then it’s almost here.” Elowen counted on her fingers. “If we’re being generous, we’ve got less than a month. I need to move fast. When you leave this house, you’re doing it in style.”

Then her expression pinched with worry. “I’ve never run a wedding before. I barely know what I’m doing half the time.”

“Ella, what are you scared of?”

The voice came from outside the door, bright, laughing, and confident.

Elspeth walked in wearing a deep plum jacket patterned with round floral medallions. She looked delighted with herself. “You’re not doing this alone. I’m right here. When my two boys got married, I handled everything, front to back, top to bottom. The steps, the rules, the order of things. I know it all.”

Elowen’s shoulders dropped with relief.

She’d almost forgotten.

She smiled, eyes curving, and waved Elspeth over. “Auntie, come look. Sylvia’s moving up in the world. Duchess Yvonne personally gave her a bracelet. It’s huge. And it’s gorgeous.”

Sylvia’s face went red the second she heard it.

Elspeth leaned in to look. “Well, I’ll be damned. It really is.”

Then she slapped her own thigh like she’d just made a decision. “No. Absolutely not. I have to give you a set of expensive bracelets too.”

Sylvia blinked. “What?”

Elowen started laughing so hard she almost folded over.

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Chapter 285 Wedding Prop And & Traps

Alaric paused.

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Finished

“Vanelle’s getting colder,” Tristan continued. “With her habits, she’ll sleep late in the morning. Then she’ll eat something after she gets up. If you count it out, she won’t leave for Falconcrest Manor until afternoon.”

The curve of Alaric’s mouth fell.

He didn’t remember that about Elowen at all.

After a long moment, he looked at Tristan, slow, heavy, and pointed. “You pay attention to her.”

Cold sweat broke across Tristan’s back. He dropped to his knees so fast it rattled his bones. “Your Highness, I have absolutely no improper intent toward the Duchess of Duskmoor. I only remember those things because she grew up with you. You carry the realm on your shoulders, so you might not remember small details. I remembered them for you, that’s all.”

Alaric stayed silent while Tristan babbled through his panic, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush.

Finally, Alaric let out a soft laugh that didn’t sound particularly kind or particularly angry. “I said it casually. Why are you on the floor?”

Tristan didn’t dare relax. His forehead stayed low.

“Get up,” Alaric said, light as dust, and walked toward his desk.

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