The Villainess Just Wants to Study

Chapter 59 ~ Complete Control

Dylan clenched her cutlery, and her manicured fingernails bit into her palms. She couldn't understand how Sir Pennel remained so unaffected. He had a relaxed expression on his face, as if somebody's life was something he could gamble with.

"That was delicious," he said, setting down his utensils. He glanced at a grandfather clock up against the wall. "I'm afraid I must take my leave. There are so many things that I must do today."

Dylan bit her lip, anxiously scanning Sir Pennel's face. Should she feign ignorance for a while and hope things would sort themselves out? But at what cost, at what price? Here she was, gambling for the highest stakes—Edwin's life—in a situation where she was at a disadvantage.

"Sir Pennel, I'll see you out," she said as she stood. She held her hands behind her back, hoping to hide the fact that she was trembling.

His smile widened slowly. "Thank you, Lady Dylan."

They walked along in an uncomfortable silence until they reached where he had left his carriage. The harnesses of the horses had the Imperial gold crest as did the doors of the coach. The sight of it nearly made her sick.

"What do you want?" she said, staring at him dead in the eyes. "Are you going to play with someone's life who has done nothing wrong?"

"Very good, my lady." He smiled as he adjusted his top hat. "You made the right choice. For a moment there, I thought you were going to let him die."

Dylan flinched as the words struck home. He saw it and his smile widened. Sir Pennel had complete control over her, and he wanted her to feel it. He needed her on her hands and knees, literally crawling in desperation to save that old man.

"What do I need to do?" she asked him.

He reached out and twirled a curl of her hair around his finger as he drew his face close to hers. "You need to convince your adoptive father to get married."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Why?" 

"Well, as you already know, my lady is only an heiress presumptive." He brought the curl to his lips and kissed it. "Your position can be displaced by the birth of a new heir with a better claim to the Duchy of Beaumon."

Dylan flinched and edged away from him, stopping only when her back hit the carriage wall. If a legitimate child was born to the Beaumon household, then her rights as the next Duke would disappear. After that, of course, the best thing would be to get her married off as soon as possible.

'This is all to force me to become the next Empress.'

Emperor Katil was a power-hungry man. He wanted to have everything he desired. A man poisoned with the desires of avarice—extreme greed for material gain. A treacherous man, a sinister collector. 

"You people really are bastards, aren't you?" she spat. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides. "What did you do to him? Was it poison?"

There was something creepy about the way he smiled. "It's a very special poison," he said, his tongue sliding over his lips. "It only exists within the Imperial Palace, so there's no way for any other doctor to acquire the antidote."

He reached his right hand into the fold of his coat and came out with a small bottle. He held it in his hands as he sloshed the strange purple liquid back and forth. It was almost as if Sir Pennel were teasing her.

"Do as I say," said Sir Pennel, the bottle dangling inches from Dylan's face. He clenched the bottle tight in his fist. "And your little grandfather figure doesn't die."