I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Chapter 11: Unhappy wife

Matilda rose from her chair, smoothing down her dress. "If you'll excuse me, I need to prepare for Lord Blackthorn's arrival. There's so much to be done."

Gwendolyn nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Of course, dear. Don't let me keep you."

As they stepped out into the long passage, Cordelia suddenly appeared, slightly out of breath and clutching her bag tightly. Her words tumbled out in a rush.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Matilda! The traffic was absolutely dreadful, and then I couldn't find my—"

Cordelia's voice trailed off as her eyes landed on Gwendolyn. Her apologetic expression froze, then slowly morphed into something more guarded. She straightened her posture, her grip on her bag tightening imperceptibly.

"Oh, Gwendolyn. I didn't realize you were here," Cordelia said, her tone now cool and measured.

Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "Cordelia, how lovely to see you. You seem... flustered."

Cordelia forced a tight smile. "Not at all. I was merely concerned about keeping Matilda waiting."

Matilda turned to Cordelia, her expression apologetic. "I'm afraid there's been a change of plans, Cordelia. Lord Blackthorn is returning earlier than expected. Our previous arrangement... it won't be possible today. Perhaps next time?"

Cordelia's eyes widened slightly, but she nodded in understanding. "Of course, Matilda. I completely understand."

Gwendolyn's eyes darted between the two women, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. "Well, I suppose that's my cue to leave," she said, her tone carrying a hint of irritation. "Goodbye, both of you," she added curtly, with no sense of politeness, as she strode past them down the passage.

As Gwendolyn's footsteps faded, Cordelia let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She turned to Matilda, "I should catch my breath for a moment before I head out. Why don't you go ahead and start organizing the house for his return? I'll be fine here and I'll see myself out shortly."

Matilda hesitated for a second, then nodded. "If you're sure, Cordelia. Thank you for understanding. Please, take your time."

"It's no trouble at all," Cordelia assured her. "Go on, I know you have much to do."

Now left alone in the passage, Cordelia's lips curled into a smirk as a thought crossed her mind. The thought of Zaphron.

"Now, where might that handsome young fellow be?" she mused to herself, her earlier flustered state giving way to a more calculating demeanor.

Cordelia's eyes gleamed with interest as she considered the possibilities. Zaphron, with his youthful charm and naivety, presented an intriguing distraction from the day's unexpected turn of events.

She straightened up, smoothing her dress and checking her reflection in a nearby ornamental mirror. The smile that played on her lips now held a hint of mischief.

"Perhaps this change of plans isn't such a disappointment after all," Cordelia murmured, her mind already formulating a new course of action. With a purposeful stride, she set off down the passage, her earlier haste replaced by a sense of anticipation.

I appreciate the clarification that Zaphron is an adult. Given that information, I can continue the scene as requested:As she walked, Cordelia's thoughts raced with possibilities. Zaphron might be young, but he was certainly no child. And in this household, where agendas and secrets intertwined like ivy, a new player could prove quite... useful.

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A convoy of horse-drawn carts approached the imposing gates of the sprawling mansion. The lead cart, ornately decorated with gilded trim and plush velvet curtains, stood out from the rest. As it passed through the gates, a flurry of activity erupted within the mansion grounds.

Maids scurried about, their skirts swishing as they hurried into position. Matilda emerged from the main entrance, her posture regal and composed. She glided down the steps, leading a small procession to greet the returning lord.

The first cart came to a halt, and for a moment, all was still. Then, the door swung open.

Blackthorn , the Lord of the house, stepped out. He was a formidable sight – tall and broad-shouldered, with a thick beard that seemed to accentuate the hardness in his eyes. His entire demeanor exuded an aura of seriousness, from the set of his jaw to the way his gaze swept over the assembled staff.

"Uhmmm, smells and looks.....different."

Matilda approached him, her face a careful mask of welcome. "Welcome," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil she felt within. "How's your trip and business?"

Blackthorn 's eyes settled on her, cold and distant. "Matilda, it was as usual," he replied, his tone clipped and devoid of warmth. Without another word, he brushed past her and strode towards the mansion.

"Take the luggage to my room," he instructed the only male servant who had accompanied him back, an older man like himself.

"This man doesn't get any less annoying despite all this time away," she muttered under her breath, turning to follow him.

She turned to follow him, her steps measured and dignified despite the sting of his dismissal. The years had not softened Blackthorn , it seemed. If anything, they had made him even more callous.

As Blackthorn strode towards the mansion, the assembled staff bowed their heads and murmured greetings. "Welcome home, my lord," they chorused, their voices a mixture of reverence and trepidation. Blackthorn , however, paid them no heed. He marched past without so much as a glance, his heavy boots echoing on the gravel path.

Matilda followed a few paces behind, her face now a blank canvas, devoid of any emotion. The staff exchanged worried glances as the pair disappeared into the house.

Once inside, Blackthorn paused in the main hall. His eyes swept across the room, taking in every detail. The furniture had been rearranged, paintings rehung, and new ornaments adorned the shelves. His brow furrowed as he turned to Matilda.

"Why have you changed the arrangements?" he asked, his voice gruff and tinged with disapproval.

Matilda felt a flicker of irritation. She had spent some time perfecting the new layout, believing it to be a marked improvement. However, she kept her voice level as she replied, "I thought it best to refresh the space after so long. The old arrangement was... outdated."

There was an edge to her words that didn't go unnoticed. Blackthorn 's eyes narrowed slightly, but he merely grunted in response. Without another word, he turned and headed towards his private chambers, leaving Matilda standing alone in the hall.

As his footsteps faded down the corridor, Matilda allowed herself a small sigh. The tension in her shoulders remained. She knew the coming days would be challenging, navigating the presence of a man who had been absent for so long, yet still commanded such power over their lives.

"After all this time, all he cares about are the furnishings, hmph!" she exclaimed with frustration. "I can't believe I have to go through this again!" She sighed deeply once more.

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