TEWRIT 86

Chapter 86

“Having the wedding and the Grand Duchess’s personal expenses won’t break the treasury.” Flint said gently.

Eliano smiled lightly.

“Then I’ll make a written estimate of expected costs and give it to Gilbert. If Your Grace informs the finance office in advance, things will go smoothly.”

Gilbert suddenly realized why Eliano had kept him close: she wanted him as a witness. In arranged marriages, couples often summon a senior steward to oversee finances.

“Decorate the manor as you wish. Main residence or annex—anything goes. I think starting with your rooms makes sense.”

Before Eliano arrived, Flint had told the caretakers to only do minimal renovations. He believed that Eliano, as the true mistress, should have free rein. Any pre-decoration might conflict with her preferences.

Despite Flint’s expectations that she might be gentle, Eliano turned out not to be. She intended to overhaul the manor as her space from top to bottom.

“May I replace the tapestries in the second-floor corridor?” she asked.

Without hesitation Flint replied, “Do whatever you like. You don’t need my permission—I don’t concern myself with such things.”

“Thank you.”

Eliano continued with a more practical matter:

“But… organizing the wedding with just the two of us might be difficult.”

They’d agreed to marry quickly.

“I’ll help as much as I can, though I’m not familiar with organizing things… sorry.”

Flint admitted he had no talent for events. When he had returned from exile, Heriath had redesigned his old, plain rooms, tearing them apart completely.

Back then he hadn’t minded. Now he found himself doubting his own ignorance.

“As a war hero, you don’t need to know about house decoration or ceremonies. I’ll handle everything. They just need to cooperate with me.”

Eliano spoke kindly but firmly. In her past life as Empress, she’d overseen countless events—especially weddings. In Zacador, the empress led all imperial wedding ceremonies by tradition.

“I only ask: allow me to hire outside workers. The current staff is too few.”

Flint nodded. Eliano requested written permission. He signaled to Gilbert, and the document was produced immediately. Watching his seal stamped on it, Eliano thought: Maybe I could make a personal seal too, after the wedding.

Flint noticed her gaze and quietly said:

“If you need a seal, you can come to my office anytime.”

“Understood.” she replied, internally thinking: Borrowing my husband’s seal is fine, but having my own would be better.

Moving through the manor, Eliano felt an unexpected satisfaction. She’d feared the local staff might resent a capital-born mistress—yet none showed hostility. Howard Manor had stood empty for 30 years. Flint himself was often absent for wars or duties. The senior manager, Gilbert, often followed Flint, so day-to-day operations fell to long-serving local keepers.

Naturally, those keepers gained influence. In such conditions, a new mistress might struggle to assert authority. But here, every staff member obeyed Eliano without objection. The head housemaid, Carol, was cautious and deferential—a sign Flint’s influence carried weight.

Just as Eliano felt content, a conflict arose—unexpectedly.

‘Maybe it was all too smooth.’

The dispute was with Miles, the finance manager. It concerned the wedding budget and spending.

Eliano knew, from her time as empress, that she could be extravagant. Returning to the past, she realized she had always been quite luxurious.

In Zacador imperial court, the empress’s wealth was seen as part of her dignity. And that dignity reflected the emperor’s favor.

The Howard wedding needed similar grandeur. Rumors of a quick, arranged marriage—or even kidnapping—had circulated. The wedding must be dignified and brilliant, enough to make Roberts (her father) grind his teeth in the capital.

Flint wasn’t miserly. He’d openly given permission to spend freely. During the journey north, his retainers had all told Eliano:

“His Grace may seem frugal on the surface, but Howard is anything but poor. Please don’t judge the North by its harsh province.”

When she actually inspected the finance office, she discovered it to be deeply funded. Flint had every reason for confidence.

So Eliano allocated a generous budget for the wedding and began renovating rooms and the manor. Meanwhile Miles felt blindsided. Historically, the Howard household knew how to save—not to spend.

Repair costs, remodeling, wedding expenses—all vastly exceeded his expectations.

‘Is she trying to create a slush fund? She arrived without a dowry!’

Miles harbored resentment and suspicion. Ultimately, he confronted the Grand Duchess directly over what he saw as excessive spending.

From his perspective, a young lady would be ignorant of finance. At twenty-two, he believed he could overwhelm her with technical jargon while maintaining polite tone—enough to shut her down. Smiling to himself, he headed to her chamber.

Inside Eliano’s newly redecorated room, she watched his endless critique with annoyance. Before her stood Miles, lecturing at length under the guise of advice—line by tedious line.

‘Boring. Basically they think I’m just too extravagant.’ She silently endured until he finished.

“Your Grace, I’ll do my best to adjust the estimates and help!” Miles said, full of pride.

Eliano refused to argue.

“I’ve already issued every order needed and preparations are underway. No need for your interference.”

“Y-Your Grace, I still haven’t explained—”

“I’ve confirmed through my husband. The treasury can handle this spending.”

Her father and mother had left Howard’s estate in perfectly stable condition. Even after thirty years, Flint’s finances remained strong. The Emperor did take a portion of the taxes, but still.

“Still, such unnecessary spending borders on luxury.”

Miles’s mistake was calling it luxury. Eliano dropped her smile and spoke frostily:

“Managing the finances is the mistress’s domain. Don’t ever disrespect me again.”

“Finances belong to His Grace the Duke! The Duke has delegated full authority to me!” Miles retorted.

Eliano sighed inwardly. Were they all taught elsewhere to speak like this? Once the Duke’s aide in my past life made me furious with the same tone.

“Maybe that was before I arrived. Remember: I am the Grand Duchess of Howard, standing before you.”

As Miles hesitated, Eliano commanded Jane:

“Miles seems unwell. He must be old. Escort him out.”

In other words, evict him.

“Your Grace! That cannot be!”

“Please leave now, Miles. You seem to be ill.”

“Your Grace! How could you misunderstand my loyalty!”

Jane led him out firmly. Eliano snorted at the word loyalty. Miles later requested a meeting again, but she ignored him. She had flown here on Flint’s orders—no need to ask him separately.

The layout of their chambers was neat: the marital bedroom in the center, Eliano’s personal room on the right, and Flint’s private room on the left—all connected by internal doors. She locked hers of course.

Flint’s room doubled as an office and study—spartan and functional, with no bed but only essential furnishings. It was peaceful, even stern.

Before marriage, he used it as a secret workspace. When bedtime came, he’d open the connecting door and walk into the bedroom. That habit remained.

Now, that bedroom differed only in one way: Eliano slept there.

Her room, by contrast, was furnished in her taste—elegant, warm, lived‑in. Flint had visited once and thought, This room is very much Eliano’s.

Originally the Grand Duchess’s room had been bare and lifeless. But from the moment she arrived, Eliano had ripped out the dull old tapestries and replaced them with thicker, vivid ones.

She renovated spaces throughout the manor. Flint believed that a northern duke’s house shouldn’t be plain. He noticed every change and teased her happily. Their conversation soon turned to wedding preparations.

Practically all of the work was Eliano’s to do—but Flint’s desire to help, though not always helpful, was touching.

“I’m not from the North, so I don’t understand its customs.”

“What nonsense.”

Their voices quiet and sleepy.

“Maybe the wedding budget I provided was too much… Miles said I’m extravagant.”

Flint perked up. Eliano struck with confidence:

“My father never begrudged money. So I do spend freely. But I regret not having brought even a dowry…”

She sighed.

“I thought your finances could cover all of this…”

She paused. Flint shot up in bed. The covers tossed aside.

Eliano also sat up, sudden awareness on her face. Flint’s expression had turned hard. He was reacting.

Eliano tilted her head innocently and asked:

“Your Grace?”

He asked softly but firmly:

“Did Miles really talk to you that way?”

Eliano said yes, then added:

“He claimed that Howard’s finances and all rights belonged to His Grace, fully delegated.”

The effect of confessing at night beside the bed was powerful. She didn’t need anything else. She just spoke.

The next morning Flint called a meeting. Everyone from the finance office trembled before the Duke’s fury.

“The Duchess wants to make decisions about finances as mistress? And you stood there demanding permission? Miles, have you lost your mind?”

Miles stumbled.

“I—I never meant that exactly…!”

“Then are you accusing her of lying?”