Awakening Love Reborn to Be His Duchess (Elowen Hale) novel Chapter 482

With every word Elowen spoke, the color drained further from Gerda's face until she stood there pale and at a loss for anything to say.

Elowen rested a hand lightly over her abdomen, her tone calm but unwavering. "As for the child, if something like this is enough to bring her down, then she was never meant to stand in this house to begin with."

Gerda looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, caught between shock and disbelief.

Edith, however, watched her with a different kind of focus now, her usual indifference giving way to quiet approval.

Elowen rose without hesitation, steady despite everything pressing in around her. "Mira, help me get ready. I'm going to Falconcrest Manor."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Mira quickly wiped her face and moved at once, her earlier panic replaced by urgency and purpose.

Seated before the mirror, Elowen studied her reflection.

Her face was composed, her features softened by pregnancy, but her eyes were far from calm. There was tension there, tightly held beneath the surface, along with something sharper that refused to give way.

She was unsettled. Anyone would be.

The man caught in this was her husband, and the child she carried was his.

But none of that could show. Not now.

Not when she was the one everyone else would look to. And not when she had already made her decision.

If something happens to him, I won't sit back and wait for someone else to fix it.

She remembered what Cassian had said before he left.

"The Duke of Duskmoor doesn't lose. Not where it counts."

He had seen the shape of this before it ever surfaced. He had prepared for it. And more importantly, he had trusted her to handle what came next.

"Ella, you're more than capable now. If I'm not there, you decide how this plays out."

They didn't need to say anything more than that.

All she had to do was keep the house steady and move when it mattered.

Right now, that meant Falconcrest Manor.

What Mira had brought back was too broad, too vague. She needed specifics. She needed to understand exactly how this accusation had been built and where it might come apart under pressure.

The weather had turned milder, and Elowen chose a structured gown in soft lavender with fine gold-thread detailing, a light cloak fastened neatly at her shoulders. Her hair was gathered and secured simply, without excess ornament, and her makeup was light but deliberate, enough to sharpen her presence.

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