Familiarity doesn't soften the blow. When his hand strikes her face, it still stings.
It doesn't stop the tears from swelling up behind her eyes until they overflow and drip down her cheeks.
But she understands her uncle's anger.
Claude Rowanhart, her father's elder brother, inherited the duchy and everything that came with it. Her father, born second, became a vassal—nothing more than a viscount beneath his brother's thumb. It was a simple life, but it wasn't a bad life. At least, not until Lenore was sent to live in her uncle's estate as a child with Claude saying that he needed a playmate for his daughter. Lenore was too young at that time to be anything other than excited at the prospect of growing alongside her cousin and attending lessons fit for the princess of a duchy.
After that move, she can count the number of times she's been happy on one hand.
Lenore keeps her hands planted firmly on the worn carpet she's fallen onto, saving her from the harsh impact of the wooden floor beneath it, and avoids touching her cheek as it throbs with each heartbeat, nor does she attempt to get off her knees or raise her eyes to look at her uncle. His temper is too unpredictable, and he decides that vassals are his tools. She is his tool, a girl of lower birth who happens to be around the same age as his daughter, Alina. Her only option is to stay docile in the hope that it'll appease him enough to feel like she's been suitably punished.
This is her role in the family. Her father isn't there to protect her. He doesn't have the power to go against his brother. Not if he wants to keep his position instead of having his title and assets removed, leaving them all as commoners with nowhere to go. Sometimes, she thinks his behavior boils down to cowardice and little more than that. But her uncle hasn't taken her to see her father and siblings in years, or allowed them to visit his estate.
In the hallway, her maid, Mary, is already waiting. Lenore knows this with certainty, because that's the way her meetings with Claude always go. She endures his wrath, doing her best to not make it worse, while Mary waits until her uncle leaves. Then, she'll put ointment on her stinging cheek, tell her to rest, and try to make up for her suffering with a sweet snack stolen from the kitchen after the sun sets.
Rowanhart's ducal estate is beautiful on the outside, but full of thorns on the inside. In the middle of it all, Mary is her only ally. After all, this is a place where simply saying that she doesn't believe she's fit to take Alina's place in a political marriage is enough to cause Claude to raise his hand against her.
"I wasn't asking for your opinion, Lenore," Claude says, straightening his clothes as if her single comment was enough to leave them disheveled. He adjusts a ring on his finger with idle disgust, as though her tears are a nuisance he must tolerate. "The emperor demands an alliance between Rowanhart and Barrowmere through a political marriage in order to keep the duke at least somewhat invested in fulfilling his duties to the empire. You'll be leaving for Duke Barrowmere's estate in a week instead of Alina."
Lenore bites her lower lip, hoping it'll be enough to maintain a pained expression so her true feelings don't show on her face. Alina likely begged to break the marriage due to the duke's reputation, but the emperor's order meant that wouldn't be possible. Shifting the marriage to a different girl in the same family and of the same age, however...
"Mary will go with you, and I'll provide the wedding dress." Claude turns away from her and heads to the door, stopping to look back at her with his hand on the doorknob. "Consider it my gratitude for saving my daughter."
He leaves then, and Lenore lets her fragile composure break down. The tears flow down her cheeks freely with the sounds of her sobs to accompany them. She doesn't bother standing up from the floor.
It's not fair. She's lived as Alina's replacement for years, and now she'll even have to get married in her place. Not to just anybody either, but to Duke Barrowmere. The Duke Barrowmere who's outlived multiple wives without appearing to age a day, no matter how many decades pass by. It's only one of the oddities that have earned him a cursed reputation and rumors that he's not human, or not entirely, at least.
Mary pulls her to her feet and ushers her to her room, but Lenore doesn't hear the words she's saying. Do her parents and siblings know that Claude is sending her away? Even if she writes them a letter, she suspects they're never sent. It's not like she's received mail, either. What was first disappointment that her family didn't want to talk to her turned into suspicion that she was being isolated intentionally over the years. But why?
She's pulled out of her thoughts when Mary spreads ointment on her injured cheek, the sting returning for a moment before the cooling herbs start to numb it. Her life has always been lived at the discretion of her uncle. Now, he's sending her away, because it's the last way that she can be useful to him.
"I'm sorry, Mary," she says.
"For what? You didn't do anything wrong, my lady." Mary shakes her head. "It's the duke who should apologize for the way he treats you."
Lenore almost smiles. "I'm dragging you with me to a new duchy on the other side of the empire. One that's run by an inhuman duke who's forced into a new marriage when his previous wife dies and he loses interest and political affairs. In that place—just like here—I'll be nothing more than a tool."
While she knows the rumors, she doesn't understand the intricacies of the politics that require her to marry Duke Barrowmere. The classes she took with Alina focused on topics like etiquette and embroidery. Topics like history, politics, and business are reserved for family heirs, she's told. As a result, she's unable to understand how or why her life has followed this path. Why she ended up being a bargaining chip.
The problem is that she knows enough to be afraid.