ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 46: Tea party preparations

The guest list felt heavier than Valerie had expected.

She sat at the small table in the sitting room that afternoon, a thick sheet of paper resting in her hands, brown eyes tracing the neatly written names Edward had prepared. One line after another. Titles. Houses. Territories.

Nearly fifty names.

Valerie swallowed.

"This many...?" she murmured without realizing it.

Rowena stood behind her, glancing over the list before letting out a short breath.

"Edward is overly diligent," she said calmly but firmly. "This is a safe list. But it is not a clever one."

Mirabel, seated across the table with her legs crossed elegantly, smiled faintly.

"A tea gathering is not a formal imperial banquet," she said. "It is a stage. And a stage does not need the wrong audience."

Valerie lifted her gaze.

"What do you mean...?"

Rowena took the list from Valerie’s hands and pointed to several names with her fingertip.

"These ladies," she said. "They rarely appear in social circles. Some have not even left their territories for years."

Mirabel added,

"Inviting them gains you nothing. They have no influence, no networks, and most importantly they do not speak."

Valerie fell silent. Only then did she realize that this was not simply about tea and polite conversation.

"Then who should I invite?" she asked quietly.

Rowena slid the list back toward her, now marked with small notations beside certain names.

"Choose those who regularly attend noble gatherings. Those known to talk. To judge. To spread news."

Valerie frowned.

"Isn’t that dangerous?"

Mirabel smiled a smile that was not entirely warm.

"That is precisely the point."

She leaned forward, her voice low but sharp.

"If they speak, let them speak about what they have seen with their own eyes rather than rumors, rather than servants’ whispers."

Rowena continued more gently,

"This gathering is not meant to make you liked by everyone, Valerie. That is impossible."

Valerie clenched her fingers in her lap.

"Then what is it for?"

"To establish boundaries," Mirabel answered without hesitation.

"Who you are. Where you stand. And how far others are allowed to speculate about you."

Silence settled between them.

Valerie looked back down at the list. Fifty names now felt like fifty pairs of eyes watching her, measuring every movement, every smile, every word that left her lips.

"I’ve never done anything like this before," she admitted honestly. "I don’t know how to face them."

Rowena placed a light hand on Valerie’s shoulder.

"That is why we are here."

Mirabel gave a small nod.

"We will choose together. You are not alone."

Valerie let out a long breath, then nodded.

"All right," she said at last. "We’ll invite only those who matter."

Mirabel smiled with satisfaction.

"That is the right decision."

And so the list began to narrow. Name by name, some were crossed out, others kept, others reconsidered not merely invitations anymore, but a small map of power, influence, and quiet intrigue in the northern territories.

And without fully realizing it, with every name she chose,

Valerie was stepping deeper into Demian’s world. A world that was cold, structured, and never left room for those who were not ready to endure.

When Edward came to collect the list, Valerie handed it to him carefully.

"This is the guest list selected by Lady Mirabel and Lady Rowena," Valerie said. "They wanted to ensure there would be no mistakes."

Edward skimmed it quickly, then nodded without the slightest hesitation.

"I will see to everything."

There were no questions. No comments. As though Valerie’s decision or rather, Valerie’s position was already perfectly clear to him.

From that day on, Valerie’s time seemed to be stolen away piece by piece.

Her mornings were filled with additional etiquette lessons: how to greet guests, the proper seating arrangements, the order in which people were to be addressed. Her afternoons were spent selecting porcelain, tablecloths, and the appropriate tea blends strong northern black tea for senior nobles, lighter floral mixtures for younger ladies.

In the evenings, she consulted with Edward.

"Will a gathering like this... reach the capital?" Valerie asked once, her voice barely above a whisper.

Edward paused his writing and looked at her, his gaze calm and far too seasoned for that of a mere head butler.

"Everything that happens in this castle reaches the capital, Miss."

Valerie clenched her fingers in her lap.

"Including... gossip?"

"Including gossip," Edward answered honestly. "And including your name."

She was silent for a moment before asking softly,

"What if Lady Kosler hears of it?"

Edward raised an eyebrow an almost imperceptible gesture.

"All of that has already been taken into consideration by the Duke."

Valerie looked up.

"So," Edward continued in a tone that was gentle yet firm, "you need not concern yourself with Lady Kosler. Your task is to stand properly where you are now."

Those words did not bring her comfort.

On the contrary, they made Valerie acutely aware of how real her presence had become. She was no longer merely the woman the Duke had brought north. She was someone being displayed, introduced, and without ever having been fully asked for her consent placed upon the nobles’ game board.

That night, when she was finally alone in her chamber, Valerie stared at her reflection in the mirror.

The dress prepared for the tea gathering hung neatly beside the wardrobe.

She asked her reflection silently:

Was she building her place... or digging herself into something deeper?

Yet one thing she knew with certainty.

There was no turning back.

And that tea gathering no matter how small its name sounded would be her first step into a world she had never chosen, yet one that now demanded she survive within it.

The day of the tea gathering finally arrived.

The northern sky looked pale, veiled by thin clouds drifting slowly, while fine snow still blanketed the castle grounds. Inside the spacious glass garden, small tables had been arranged neatly with white linens, silver-patterned porcelain, and carefully chosen winter flowers nothing excessive, yet more than enough to signal taste and status.

Valerie stood before the mirror one last time.

The dress she wore was not ostentatious, yet it fell perfectly against her figure. Its color was soft, its cut elegant a choice deliberately advised by Mirabel and Rowena. Not to challenge anyone, but to state one quiet truth: I know my place, and I will not be shamed.

When the doors to the glass garden were opened, the guests began to arrive one by one.

Twenty noble ladies from the northern territories attended that day. Not only young, unmarried women, but also married ladies and even several senior noblewomen whose names were widely known. Valerie noticed how Mirabel and Rowena inclined their heads with deep respect toward some of them a clear signal that those women stood far above most of the other guests in rank.

And that made Valerie’s heart beat faster.

She knew that behind the polite smiles and courteous greetings, whispers had already begun to circulate.

"Is that her?"

"The Duke’s woman..."

"Not his wife, is she?"

"How bold, to appear like this."