The Legend of Queen Sofia

　　This was definitely not a pleasant morning, at least for Sophia. Even while sitting there, she could feel a burning gaze lingering on her. It greatly disrupted her from reading the letter. By the way, what was this one in her hand about？ Oh, pardon her, she needed to read it again.

　　Due to the rain, the delivery of letters has slowed down, and all news is lagging behind. Staring at the letter in her hand, she could hardly believe it was all from late September. As before, it was about how the cotton mills in Manchester were besieged by attackers, and how the workers there united against the outsiders. Compared to last time, the recent strikes at other factories had caused some minor damage to the cotton mills, and the vandals didn't get away unscathed either.

　　In short, apart from a small minority, many people were venting their dissatisfaction. What happened in Manchester was just one example, and London saw no shortage of it either. Even "Eat 'Til Full" on Oxford Street nearly got attacked, let alone other places.

　　"If you keep staring, I'll have to throw you out." She had barely finished reading one letter, and he was still watching!

　　"Ahem, I just wanted to tell you that here’s a piece of news you might like." The Duke looked innocent; he simply wanted to wait until his wife was free to share something with her, with no other intentions.

　　"What news？" Sophia wasn’t convinced—was her intuition just now mistaken？

　　"If you don’t believe me, come see for yourself." This was genuine news, reported in the newspapers!

　　Fine, I’ll see." Sophia stood up and walked toward the window. Across the wide desk, she picked up the newspaper the Duke had just put down. She had indeed wronged him—it was news she had been eager to hear. The report stated that the former Duchess of Devonshire, Elizabeth Foster, had her rented apartment broken into, with all its valuables gone. Moreover, her son, Clifford, had been beaten. But based on the description, these were two separate incidents that occurred on the same day.

　　"This just says it was a burglary and he was assaulted, but it doesn’t explain why the intrusion happened or why he was attacked." If only it could reveal more. She hoped it was the reason she had speculated earlier—a backlash from Foster seeking help from those 'gentlemen.'

　　By the way, where was Jules？ She wasn’t mentioned anywhere in the entire report.

　　"Maybe the press hasn't dug it up yet. Let's wait a bit longer," the Duke said, unconsciously glancing at his wife, especially at—

　　"Still looking？ No peeking!" What awful habit—couldn’t he keep those things in their private chambers？

　　"I only wanted to tell you that there’s a bit of ink on you," he said, grateful that—thankfully—he had a legitimate excuse.

　　"Oh, really？" Sophia turned toward the window. Since the sky outside was dark, the glass served as a makeshift mirror. "May I borrow your handkerchief？" She had discarded hers this morning.

　　"Here you go." His wife had not only borrowed his handkerchief but also took a sip of his tea.

　　"Is it all gone？" When had she gotten ink on herself？ Had she been that distracted？

　　"Yes, it's clean.

　　Good. Sophia returned to her seat. As for "thank you" or "sorry," those wouldn’t be forthcoming today—at least not today, and she was certain her husband wouldn’t mind too much.

　　The Duke certainly didn’t mind—what was there to mind about？ Still, given her keen interest in that family, it might be worth sending someone to look into things.

　　So when the next piece of news arrived, Sophia saw a special note saying that people from Devonshire House were also investigating. They had sent someone after all？ She had no idea. She’d check the source of the "street cleaner" intelligence first, then ask about it later.

　　According to the investigation, the group that broke in and carried out the robbery were hired, paid two pounds. Their orders were to vandalize the place; the subsequent robbery was an initiative of the hired hands themselves. As for who hired them, there’s no news yet, because the recruiter appeared to be an ordinary person. Clifford was beaten because he seduced a viscountess. The lady was unaware of her pregnancy and took part in some wild fun, which led to a miscarriage.

　　Tsk, it’s always something like this. But serves him right; he deserved that beating.

　　It was only after lunch that Sophia learned of this, and before she could even start asking, the Duke brought it up on his own.

　　“I did a bit of digging into the previous report. Since the parties involved happened to have connections at the newspaper, no follow-up stories were published.” It was a stroke of luck that I found out. “I’m talking about that day Clifford was beaten.”

　　“You mean, you specifically went out of your way to investigate this？” I really didn’t know about that before.

　　“It’s not much trouble to make some inquiries.” If it makes her happy, that’s all that matters. “Although he never officially joined the ‘Gentlemen,’ the things he did were hardly any different from them. After he was released, he took notice of a viscountess who was always down in the dumps, and slowly, things developed between them. The reason he got beaten was that the viscountess had a miscarriage, and she nearly lost her life.” As for the details, I won’t elaborating—they’re just the usual sordid affairs.

　　"I see. What about the break-in？ Was it just a break-in, nothing else？" Regarding the beating, the information was more or less the same.

　　"It seems it was just a break-in; no specific reason was found." There have been quite a few similar incidents recently, likely just bad luck.

　　"I heard there are many such cases—how can they never be stopped？" Downing Street never cares, and Bow Street Runners are too swamped to handle it all. The constant rain makes their patrols far more difficult.

　　"How can it be stopped？ With bad weather and poor policies, hungry people have to find a way to get by." Such things happened before, but not as frequently as now.

　　This is just something you can’t really discuss; it’s clear that for the time ahead, it will only increase. Let’s just focus on our own affairs.

　　“Let’s go. Don’t worry about others.”

　　That night, Sophia was jolted awake by noise in the middle of the night. She opened her eyes and found the duke already up and standing by the door.

　　"What now？" On a night with such heavy rain, surely there wasn’t another fire？

　　"Someone broke in. Don’t worry, ma’am, the intruder has been caught!" Still, she got up.

　　"Who has the audacity to break in here？" Sophia slipped on the duke’s coat, as her dress was too troublesome to wear.

　　"Don't come out, it's Clifford." The duke stepped aside, blocking his wife. She looked quite fitting in her own clothes, exuding a different kind of beauty.

　　"It's him, of all people？ Where is he？" What a nerve, that one.

　　“In his old room, the easternmost room on the third floor.”

　　"How could he manage to get here？ Didn't the patrolling guards spot him？" It sent chills—if not for the fact that the doors were locked every night, wouldn't he skip the third floor and head straight to the master bedroom, slip in while everyone was asleep, and give them a knife stroke apiece first thing？

　　"After all, he lived here for many years; it's entirely possible he just evaded the night watch." The Duke stepped farther forward, shielding his wife as someone came down from upstairs. "Don't dwell on it—let me handle this first." Before leaving, he took care to pull the door shut behind him.

　　She would go too! Sophia quickly locked the door as soon as it closed, then shed her outer garment and began putting on her dress. At this moment, comfort was out of the question; propriety would have to do. As for her disheveled hair, that was a minor issue.

　　Soon after, she opened the door and followed the sound of voices downstairs.

　　“Clifford, what are you doing here？ You should know that sneaking into the Duke’s mansion gives me the right to deal with you.” Even in other private places, the owner has the authority to handle intruders. “Or do you think you can continue to live so brazenly here？” The Duke didn’t notice how his questioning style was starting to sound like his wife’s.

　　"What do you plan to do with me？ Kill me？ Oh, William, you coward! You used to hide behind your mother's skirts, and now, what, are you trying to hide behind your pretty little wife？" Clifford, facing the staircase, naturally spotted the person coming down first.

　　"Are you envious or jealous？ A grown man like you, without even a lawful wife, sneaking in alone in the rain like a thief—does that prove you're brave？ Give it a rest. No one would accept that as proof. Have you searched him？ What has he taken？" Sophia came down and deliberately stood right in front of the Duke. She stood there without hesitation, willing to protect her husband—so what if she did？

　　"Your Grace, it's some land deeds," the servant reported after searching, and there were quite a few.

　　She took them for a look, and to her astonishment, the signatures on them were all his？!

　　"Take a look." What was going on here？

　　The Duke took them and examined them, already somewhat able to guess. When they drove him out back then, the belongings he took were all screened, so these weren't taken along. That incident with those three people daring to break in last time was most likely for these as well.

　　"Well then, it looks like you'll have to go through the earlier accounting books again." Judging by the dates, these were from a long time ago. "Lock him in the dark room. We won't receive any visitors tomorrow, no matter who it is." If he dares to come, he'd better be prepared to be caught.

　　"Let's go. Time to head back." What was she still standing there for？ Wasn't she tired？ That burst of excitement earlier had faded, and now she was feeling listless.

　　"Owww—" Sophia quickly clamped a hand over her own mouth. What on earth was he doing, scooping her up like that without making a peep？ There were still people around, and they'd all seen it!

　　The Duke couldn’t care less. He just loved the way she had stood up for him just now. She protected him; she wouldn’t let anyone hurt him—even if it was just with words! He was far too thrilled, and he needed to hold her to feel better.

　　"Please, put me down already." They were already on the second floor—time to set her down.

　　The Duke did put her down, but no sooner had they entered the room than he pinned her against the door, where it had just been locked shut.

　　"Let me make this clear: I'm tired." Whatever was on his mind, she wanted to sleep. This time, Sophia looked him straight in the eye—not a hint of avoidance.

　　"Alright then, let's get some sleep." So he followed her lead and said they’d sleep first.

　　After waking from sleep, he grabbed hold of her and insisted on making up for that hastily missed thank-you from the middle of the night. What exactly had she done to deserve being thanked like that!

　　“Don't you feel that—lately—you've been a little too immersed in this？”

　　"I find this pastime to be quite agreeable, far better than gambling or going out to have fun. Don't you think so？" With a comparison like that, he believed his wife would agree too.

　　You can't compare it like that! Compared to those two, this is certainly the better choice. But it wears me out!

　　"Why don't you go to the studio or practice fencing instead？ Those hobbies are more refined." As for her—no, no, no, it doesn't have to involve her. Doing it occasionally is fine, but having it every day is really hard to keep up with.

　　"If you say that, I'll be hurt. Is there something I'm doing wrong？ Just tell me, and I promise to change." Speak up, he's listening. The Duke gently traced his hand along his wife's back, stroke by stroke. Even hearing her complaints brought him joy.

　　How could she possibly say it？ They'd already brought up this same issue before! Did she have to repeat herself？ Not a chance. Sophia lay there without moving, just turning her head towards the window, refusing to look at him.

　　"Since you have no objections, we'll keep things as they are." See, didn't he manage to turn her back around？ Even if she was a bit huffy. "Clearly, even during it all, you were—" Fine, his wife cut him off.

　　Say another word! Cover his mouth and say no more. Sophia quickly reached out to stop him—didn't he know she'd blush hearing that？ He just had to say it out loud!

　　After idling and dawdling in bed for quite a while, the two of them finally got up. Having exercised in the morning already, taking a quick turn around the house was enough. They prepared for breakfast. After finishing breakfast, the two strolled slowly towards the study.

　　"There haven't been many visitors from Cavendish this month for reimbursements. Is it because of the weather？" As soon as the weather turns bad, they just don't come？

　　“I haven't heard anything about it. I'll ask Manager Ken later.”

　　"Your Grace, Madam, I've just received word. A few of them happened to pass by 'Farm No. 1' on their way here and said they wanted to stay there for a couple of days." Manager Ken provided the answer.

　　"Farm No. 1" isn't equipped for hosting guests—it only has two-story cottages for living. How could it accommodate a few days' stay？ Probably not already in a quarrel, though with security around, that's unlikely.

　　"Let's go!" A few Cavendish members stormed back to their respective carriages. "This is Cavendish land—can't we even go in for a look and stay overnight？" This time, they even brought friends specifically to see what the thousand-worker-built farm was like. But the result？ They couldn't even get through the main gate!

　　"Hold on, what are you doing？" However, at the entrance of the Duke's mansion, the group faced even stricter checks.

　　"Apologies, London hasn't been very safe lately, so all entry and exit into the Duke's mansion requires inspection." Not to mention, just last night, someone actually managed to break in!

　　Oh, that would explain it—that reason was barely acceptable. But why did their friends have to answer so many questions as