-3-

Shirley took a deep breath before knocking on the polished wooden door. She hadn't been that nervous working with the late Duke, but now she was somewhat intimidated by his daughter.

Perhaps, it was because, for the past few months, Shirley had witnessed a few hissy fits from the young Duchess that would make even an army sergeant flinch. There were about fifty-four servants before Violet took the sovereignty of Averbury. By now the Duchess had already fired half of them.

Shirley wouldn't blame her for doing that. Most of the layoffs were idling around the castle like cats in the sun. It would have been an exorbitant expense to keep them for nothing. Shirley didn't like gossips or meaningless chattering while there were works to be done. She did her job well and even exceeded expectations on so many occasions. The secretary wouldn't think she could be the next target. Yet, she couldn't help feeling like a feline with a tail up on alert.

At last, the door opened. She stepped inside and found George, the butler, standing there as if waiting for some sort of instruction. Shirley gave him a questioning look, but he merely shrugged and motioned to the inner study. With an inward sigh, she walked towards the inner room where Violet was sitting behind her father's desk.

She was leaning in her high-backed chair reading an official letter.

"Your Grace," Shirley greeted as if to announce her arrival. Violet didn't take her eyes off the piece of paper, but Shirley was patient. She was used to how cold and curt the Duchess could be when her mind was fixed on something else.

A moment later, Violet put the letter down and slid it across the table to her. The Duchess had been moving words and sentences around for the past few hours.

"I want you to proofread this and run a check with my lawyers tomorrow," she said. "Get back to me if there is any question or issue. I need it to be sealed by Monday."

"May I ask what it is?"

"A prenup," Violet said matter-of-factly. Shirley's eyes widened in surprise.

"Your Grace...are you really going to..."

"I'm tired of answering that damn question already," Violet said with an irritated frown. "I want you here so you can help me with something far more important."

"My apologies."

The young Duchess waved it away.

"Sit down," she said. "It's hard to talk while you're standing there like a stiff board."

Shirley hurriedly took a seat on a red upholstery in front of her young boss.

Violet stared at her for a moment as if considering something. Then she leaned on the table and laced her long slender fingers together.

"How long have you been working here, Shirley?" she asked at last. The secretary cocked her head to the side, counting the summers and winters.

"Over fifteen years, Your Grace."

Violet's eyes flickered with amusement and pity, remembering when the two of them first met. She used to give Shirley a hard time during her rebellious teenage phase. Shirley would have to run around looking for her if there was an important event to attend or her arranging impromptu parties for her friends when the Duke was away. Sometimes, Violet had given the poor secretary a few premature gray hairs when she sneaked out of the castle with some unknown girls at night.

"Well, I certainly can trust you, can't I?" Violet said with a curled lip at the corner. Shirley scratched her brow.

"Well, considering the age difference, I don't think I would be a good match for you," she said.

Violet burst out laughing. Shirley was instantly relieved and joined the laughter. They both knew it was a good joke. It was nice to hear the Duchess laugh again, Shirley thought. Violet could lose her austere demeanor for a moment. After years of family drama and isolation, anyone would be hardened a little inside. The media even dubbed Violet Wintour 'the Ice Queen'. She was the polar opposite of her father. The late Duke lavished in extravagant banquets and enjoyed hosting fancy events for his aristocrat friends. The cost of them had nearly bled Averbury dry. Shirley suspected that he drowned himself in the wine bottles because of the death of his beautiful wife, Lady Catherine. And having a daughter who looked like a replica of her mother yet so different in every way was true salt to the wound.

The financial crisis hit hard when he fell ill. Violet had to step in. With a keen mind of a youthful entrepreneur, Violet rolled up her sleeves and plunged into the fight with people way older and more experienced than her. Sharp and quick like a lightning, she dictated what ought to be done. Her sound judgments and wise decisions saved Averbury Castle from being sold to her greedy uncle.

After twelve months of constant hard work, she was able to turn things around and brought stability to the estate. A year later, the Duke passed away from pancreas cancer, and Violet became the head of the house, but the responsibilities had only increased. A perfectionist by nature, she worked to ensure that everything keeps growing instead of withering away just like her father did. Her wealth and family legacy were her sole motivation ever since.

"Alright, we both can agree on that," Violet said with a sniff. "Now I want you to do something for me, Shirley, and I want no one outside my trusted circle to ever find out. You're good with arrangements and know a lot of people, so you know what I'm talking about."

"You mean...?"

"Find a woman who can shut her mouth well," the Duchess said. "Someone who can make things believable to the public and the preying eye of my uncle."

"A fake bride?"

"Something like that," Violet said with a shrug. "I need this person to sign a contract with us. I don't care where you find her and at what price, but whatever you do, do not use those dumb dating sites. And you'd better hurry, Shirley. I hate waiting."

"Understood, Your Grace." The secretary nodded. For the first time, she dreaded the task at hand. Her qualifications and background knowledge had not equipped her with the ability to search for a potential wife.

"Do you have any questions?"

"No, Your Grace," Shirley said.

"You can go now."

The older woman stood up, ready to leave, but then she remembered something and turned back.

"By the way, Lady Florence will come to pick you up for Green Garden this evening."

"Oh, yes, thank you for reminding me," Violet said and let out a sigh. The irritated look returned to her face. For someone who had both the money and fame, it was a puzzle of how antisocial her young Duchess was.

"I'll get the Maybach ready for you or you rather ride the chopper instead? It's an hour drive from here."

"No, the car is fine. I don't mind the long drive, the longer the better," said the Duchess. "And thank you, Shirley."

Shirley smiled and left the room.

~*~

Lady Florence burst through the door of Violet's office, all dressed up in her glamorous robe of glittering red and gold.

"I thought you were ready," Florence said with a grunt.

"When did I say that?" Violet looked up from her computer and frowned. "I've got work to finish."

Florence rolled her eyes. She came to swirl Violet's chair around so that her friend would face her.

"Violet, get your goddamn ass out of this chair and get dressed, we're running late."

"Geez, your language, Flor." But the Duchess did comply and got up. "And tell me, whose lame party is it again?"

"Prince Sebastian's, a close friend of your father, Your Grace," Florence said with a tone of sarcasm. "You're the one who asked me to go with you or you will find reasons to dodge it again, remember?"

"Alright, alright," Violet said, putting her hands up in surrender. "Give me some time to get ready, will you?"

While Florence waited in the parlor room, flipping through a magazine, Violet went to her walk-in closet the size of a regular apartment. She needed no opinion to help her choose what to wear. Violet had a unique sense of style when it came to clothes. There was nothing masculine about her, but the Duchess enjoyed expressing both her femininity and masculinity in all her fashion. Every single piece of fabric she owned was top-notch quality and tailored by world-class designers that even the rich couldn't afford to hire.

She had very few gowns, but all of which were beautifully made and only for formal events at the palace or when she had to conduct a state affair as required by her title. Even the media was obsessed with her looks. A stickler of precise proportions and posh taste, their headline would read. No one could appear outstandingly splendid in a simple crisp white blouse like the Duchess of Averbury.

That evening, Violet adorned her bold attire of white dress shirt but she gave it her own flair with a breezy tuxedo coat that flattered with every step, and pointy-toe flats that prevented her from crossing into a too-much masculine territory.

When she stepped out of the dressing room, Florence tilted her head with a narrow gaze.

"Are you planning to seduce some poor damsels tonight?" said Florence.

"What made you say that?"

"That is your signature looks when you want to bring a girl to bed. I know that for a fact."

Somewhere over the years, their friendship had evolved from classmates at their all-girls boarding school to psychic-like twins who recognize each other's quirks and hidden thoughts.

"Mind your own business." Violet scowled at her. "I don't have to dress up to pick up girls."

"Yeah, right, because they would just come tumbling down and fall at your feet anyway."

"Shouldn't we get going now?"

The chauffeur was waiting for them by the sleek black Maybach with its diamond-like headlights. Once they settled inside the luxurious car, Lady Florence turned to her friend.

"So any update you want to share with me?"

"What update?"

"Stop being such a pain for once, Violet, you know I'm waiting for the tea to spill," she said. "Now tell me what you're up to."

Violet rolled her eyes.

"Well, if you must know, I asked Shirley to take care of it already. Don't worry I'm not going to be homeless any time soon."

"I don't get why you can't just take one of your flings, like that pretty countess from Luxembourg," Florence said. "As far as I know, she's still head over heels for you."

Violet made a face. "She's just confused with her sexuality. That doesn't mean anything. I'm done with bi-curious women."

"Violet, not everyone is born with a gay backbone," Florence said. "You knew you were into girls since you were in a diaper. But some of them just need a little nudge."

"I don't buy that crap anymore. If you can just shut up, I'll appreciate it."

"You're still an asshole, Violet, but I forgive you."

The car rolled out of the fifteen-acre grand estate, heading north, and when they arrived at Green Garden, it was already twilight.