The Evil Ladies Form An Alliance

Chapter 20: When You Awaken The Villianess

Viscount Seddy was a man who had built his wealth and reputation through shrewd business dealings in the supply trade. High-end restaurants and noble households relied on him for luxury goods, making him a prominent figure among the nobility. Yet, beneath his success, he harbored an unrelenting obsession: the only daughter of the Duke of Hawthorne. His affections for Lady Valerie had been no secret, but his marriage proposal was summarily rejected. Undeterred, he pursued her relentlessly, investing both his wealth and time to win her favor.

His world was shattered when news reached him. Lady Valerie was betrothed to Ashton, the adopted son of Marquess Henstone. A commoner elevated by the holy sword, Ashton had climbed the ranks of nobility and stolen the very woman Viscount Seddy idolized. Resentment festered in the Viscount's heart, his envy morphing into a burning hatred.

Now, the once-proud Viscount was a pitiful sight. Bumps swelled on his head, his face marred by the sharp imprint of Lady Valerie’s shoes. Blood dripped steadily from his nose, and dizziness clouded his senses. Despite the humiliation, he clung to a delusion.

"M-my lady," he stammered, his voice quivering with misplaced hope. "Did you come to see me?"

In his blurred vision, Valerie’s face appeared almost concerned, but reality struck cruelly. Her eyes were like daggers, sharp and unforgiving. Her entire demeanor radiated fury, a fierce predator standing before her cowering prey. The Viscount, once an arrogant noble, now staggered like a rat under her piercing gaze.

"Leave," Valerie commanded, her voice cold as winter frost. "And don’t forget to clean up your mess, Viscount Seddy."

The Viscount’s men scrambled to his aid, hauling his half-conscious form to the carriage. Bloodied and defeated, he was whisked away, his dignity left behind in the dirt of Henstone Manor.

Valerie turned to the trembling man who had accompanied Seddy. Her tone was as icy as her stare. "We will charge the House of Seddy triple the price for these vile goods," she declared. "You have two days to send a refund. If you fail..." Her voice sharpened, slicing through the air. "...I will ensure the name of Seddy is erased from the noble registry."

Alex Orwell, still reeling from the confrontation, watched his mistress in awe. His thoughts turned to the House of Hawthorne, one of the four great Ducal pillars of the Alvier Kingdom. The Duke of Hawthorne, a demon on the battlefield, was known for his lack of sentimentality, even toward his only daughter. Yet, despite his cold nature, no one dared to disrespect his bloodline. Valerie’s strength and poise now reminded Alex of the duke’s fearsome reputation. He recalled how, not long ago, two noble houses had been stripped of their titles for mocking Lady Valerie. Though dethroned from her original station, Valerie’s name still carried weight, and her resolve left no room for doubt.

"Mr. Orwell," Valerie’s voice broke his reverie, softer now but commanding. "Calculate all the expenses we’ve incurred with the Viscount’s merchant guild. Including the costs of the supplies we sent during the Marquess’s recent subjugation campaign."

Her clear instructions pulled Alex back to the present. He couldn’t help but acknowledge her intervention had saved the day. Had she not stepped in, the Viscount’s insults would have spread, dragging the House of Henstone into public humiliation. Yet Valerie had not only defended her house, she had turned the situation to their advantage.

Alex bowed his head, a pang of guilt stirring in his chest. He had failed to restrain the Madam earlier, allowing her emotions to escalate the scene. Valerie’s intervention had saved him and the entire estate.

"My lady," Valerie said to Emma as she turned to leave, "show me the way to the kitchen. I need to speak with the head chef."

As she walked away, Alex called out, "My lady." He bent down to gather her shoes, now scattered and dirtied from the confrontation. Kneeling, he presented them to her. "Your foot, my lady."

Valerie froze, her cheeks flushing in surprise. "Wh-what are you doing?"

Alex looked at Emma, who quickly moved to support Valerie by the shoulders. With deliberate care, Alex took Valerie’s right foot, brushing the dirt away with his hand before slipping the shoe on. He repeated the act on her left foot, his head bowed in a gesture of deference.

"My deepest apologies, my lady," he said, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. "I failed to believe in you. I failed to see the efforts you’ve made to change for the good of this house."

Valerie blinked, startled by his sincerity.

He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Thank you for standing up for us, my lady."

She softened, her fierce resolve giving way to a rare vulnerability. "I’m sorry too, Mr. Orwell. I vow to keep changing. But I have shown you another villainess in me."

Alex shook his head, his voice firm. "No, my lady. Today, you’ve done what all of us wished we could. For that, we are grateful."

A moment of understanding passed between them, unspoken yet profound, as Alex remained kneeling in gratitude and Valerie stood tall, her strength reaffirmed.

Valerie’s gaze shifted to the Madam, her demeanor notably calmer, her piercing eyes now softened. There was no trace of hatred in her expression—only an air of quiet resolve. The Madam, however, was less composed. The moment their eyes met, she quickly averted her gaze, puffing her cheeks in an attempt to maintain her stubborn pride.

Valerie found the sight amusing. A small smile tugged at her lips, and she held it, even as the Madam, clearly embarrassed, clung to her pout.

Meanwhile, in the bustling kitchen, Howard, a bright-eyed kitchen servant, burst in, his excitement practically radiating from him. He had witnessed the confrontation earlier and was practically bouncing on his toes, eager to recount every detail.

“You won’t believe what just happened today!” he exclaimed, his voice cutting through the steady clatter of plates and utensils.

The kitchen staff gathered around their modest meals of soup and bread and barely lifted their heads. They looked worn out, their spirits dampened by the earlier chaos.

“What is it, Howard?” the head chef finally asked, his tone dull as he scooped the last bit of soup from his plate. His face bore a defeated expression, as though the events of the day had drained him entirely.

Howard wasn’t deterred. He leaned forward, his enthusiasm unwavering. “The lady! She hit that arrogant Viscount Seddy! Blood ran down his face, and his men had to carry him to his carriage!”

The room fell silent for a moment, jaws dropping in disbelief. The stunned staff exchanged wide-eyed glances, their meals momentarily forgotten.

“The lady?”

“She really did that?”

“Emma kept saying she’s vowed to change, but I didn’t think—”

“Did she do it for Henstone?”

Howard nodded vigorously, his excitement only growing. “That’s not all! She demanded triple the refund for all the rotten goods he delivered! That man who’s been mocking Henstone finally got what he deserved!”

Whispers spread through the room like wildfire, voices tinged with awe and curiosity. Some spoke in hushed tones, marveling at Valerie’s boldness, while others tried to piece together the rumors they’d heard about her recent efforts to redeem herself. The lively chatter came to an abrupt halt as Valerie herself stepped into the servants’ dining area. Her face was radiant, her expression brimming with quiet satisfaction that left no doubt she had heard every word of their whispers.

The staff quickly scrambled to their feet, their earlier shock giving way to a mixture of respect and nervousness. Valerie’s presence filled the room, her posture regal yet approachable, her smile warm despite the authority she commanded.

Howard was caught off guard, straightened his apron, and gave a sheepish grin. “M-my lady,” he stammered, bowing slightly.