Chapter 71 – Daphne POV
So awkward.
This whole tea party is one long, silent war served with pastries and passive-aggressive nods.
Apart from a few rehearsed compliments and veiled comments, everyone hates each other.
You could cut the tension with a butter knife. I watch the three women exchange looks like dueling peacocks—beautiful, poised, and one second away from gouging each other's eyes out with a jeweled hairpin.
The Duchess, meanwhile, looks bored out of her mind.
She finally sets her cup down with a soft clink, her expression unreadable.
"I'm sure I sent my personal maid to inform you," she begins, voice smooth, "but it's time for an heir."
Straight to the point, I guess.
She doesn't bother to sugarcoat it. No poetic metaphors about legacy or duty. Just: I need a baby. Somebody get pregnant.
"Also, I've been told there's been clashing on the days."
Ah. Here we go.
"I will not speak of the schemes, I just need someone—anyone—to fall pregnant."
