Three days flew by since that morning in the courtyard. The manor felt different now, like something had shifted in the air.
My training sessions with Keira were getting interesting. We'd steal glances during sword practice, and she'd find excuses to touch my arm when showing me techniques. Between lessons, we'd sneak moments alone together. But when other people were around? We acted completely professional.
I was sitting in the library, flipping through some combat manuals, when Rosalind appeared with news.
"Lady Westfield's coming home tonight," she said, dropping into the chair across from me. "Three days early. The Duke's still heading to the capital.
Something in her voice made me think this wasn't just random news.
"I haven't met her yet," I said, closing my book. "What's she like?"
"Smart. Classy. And..." Rosalind gave me a meaningful look, "she's been stuck with boring politicians for three weeks. She's probably dying for some real conversation."
The way she said it made me wonder if Lady Westfield's early return wasn't as random as it seemed.
"She'll want to meet you properly. You know, the new champion her husband picked up while she was gone. I've already set everything up for your introduction."
Lady Westfield arrived just as the sun was setting. I watched from my window as her carriage rolled into the courtyard. Even though she looked tired from traveling, she still carried herself like royalty. She had that kind of natural grace that made you stop and stare.
Rosalind had me waiting in the main hall when Lady Westfield walked in after getting cleaned up. She'd changed into this flowing evening dress that showed off her mature beauty perfectly. She wasn't young, but she had that commanding presence that made age irrelevant.
"My lady," Rosalind started formally, "this is Daren, the transmigrant champion Lord Derek brought in for the Pleasure Tournament."
Lady Westfield's eyes met mine, and I felt that familiar tingle from my Natural Charm ability kicking in. She looked me up and down, clearly appreciating what she saw, before focusing on my face.
"So you're the mystery addition to our household," she said in this cultured, authoritative voice. "Rosalind's letters mentioned your quick progress."
"My lady." I bowed the way I'd been taught, noticing how her eyes followed the movement. "I hope I can prove I'm worth House Westfield's investment."
"Interesting." She stepped closer, studying me like someone used to sizing people up quickly. "You're not what I expected when Derek mentioned getting a transmigrant. Most of them are... less physically impressive."
The compliment was subtle but definitely there. My Enhanced Physique was clearly making a good first impression.
"The training's been intense, my lady. Lady Keira has been very thorough with her instruction."
Something flickered across Lady Westfield's face when I mentioned Keira's name. Her eyes tightened just a bit, suggesting there might be some tension between the houses that wasn't obvious on the surface.
"Has she now? How dedicated of her." There was definitely an edge to those words. "So how are you finding life at Westfield Manor?"
"Educational in a lot of ways," I said carefully. "Though I have to admit, I haven't had much time to appreciate the finer things here. Training takes up most of my day."
"That's a shame. There's a lot here worth seeing." Her smile held a clear invitation. "Maybe I could give you a more complete tour sometime. When you're not busy with sword work."
An hour later, I got summoned to Lady Westfield's private sitting room. She'd set up wine and snacks, creating this intimate atmosphere for our first real talk.
"Tell me about yourself, Daren," she said, settling gracefully into her chair. "Derek's letter was annoyingly short on details about your background."
I shared some carefully edited stories about where I came from and what I could do, watching her reactions the whole time. She was obviously tired from traveling, but her sharp intelligence shone through. She asked smart questions about my transmigrant abilities, my training, and what I thought of everyone in the household.
"You're more well-spoken than most warriors," she observed, refilling both our glasses. "Most champions are... simpler in what they care about."
"Maybe you've just known the wrong champions, my lady."
She actually laughed at that, the first genuinely relaxed sound I'd heard from her. "Maybe I have. Three weeks with Duke Harrington's 'champions' certainly proved that point."
The wine and her obvious exhaustion were making her drop her usual social walls. She started telling me about how frustrated she'd been on the political trip—all the empty conversations, the showing off, the exhausting act of being the perfect lord's wife.
"You know what I missed most?" she asked, leaning forward a bit. "Smart conversation. Real discussion with someone who sees past what they can get from me politically."
"That sounds lonely."
"Exactly." Her eyes locked onto mine. "You get it. Most people only see what they need from me—political connections, social status, house resources. But you're looking at me like..."
"Like what?"
"Like you actually see me. Not just my position or what I can do for you, but actually me."
The vulnerability in what she said hit me hard. This was a woman starving for real attention, whose marriage gave her political stability but left her emotionally empty.
"Can I be honest with you?" I asked.
"Please. Honesty would be amazing."
"You're incredible. Smart, elegant, clearly capable of handling complex situations. But you seem... unappreciated."
Color rose in her cheeks at the direct compliment. "Careful, Daren. Saying things like that could be seen as crossing lines."
"Could it? Or could it be exactly what you need to hear?"
She stared at me for a long moment, breathing a little faster. "You're dangerous, aren't you? Not in the way most champions are dangerous."
"How am I dangerous?"
"You make me remember things I'd forgotten. About myself, about what I want instead of what everyone expects from me."
The admission hung in the air between us, heavy with possibility. Her travel exhaustion, emotional vulnerability, and obvious attraction to my enhanced presence created the perfect storm for connection.
"What do you want?" I asked quietly.
Instead of answering right away, she stood up and walked to the window, wine glass in hand. "To feel valued. To have conversations that actually matter. To be seen as more than just a political tool."
I joined her at the window, close enough that she could feel my presence. "You are more. So much more."
She turned to face me, and I could see the war going on in her eyes—duty fighting against desire, doing what's proper versus what she actually needed.
"This isn't smart," she whispered, but she didn't step away.
"The best things usually aren't."
Her free hand came up to rest on my chest, feeling the solid muscle under my shirt. "You've gotten strong. Confident. There's something about you that's... magnetic."
"Is that a problem?"
"It should be." Her thumb traced little circles on my chest through the fabric. "I'm married. You're a guest in my home. If anyone suspected the political consequences..."
"Suspected what?"
Her eyes searched mine, want and caution fighting in her expression. "That I find you fascinating. That for the first time in months, I actually feel genuinely interested in someone."
The confession was both an admission and an invitation. Her marriage gave her security but no passion, her social position demanded perfection but offered no real connection.
"Maybe," I suggested carefully, "we could continue this conversation another time. After you've had a chance to rest from your travels."
Relief and disappointment both crossed her face. "Maybe we could. Tomorrow evening? After dinner? I could show you the manor's wine collection. It's quite... extensive."
The suggestion carried obvious subtext. A private tour, away from prying eyes, with a built-in excuse for spending lots of time together.
"I'd be honored, my lady."
As I got ready to leave, she caught my hand briefly. "Daren? Thank you. For seeing me. For making me feel... valued."
The touch lasted longer than it should have, her fingers warm against mine.
"Until tomorrow evening then," I said.
"Yes. Tomorrow evening."
As I left her chambers, I felt that familiar tingle of experience gained, new connections forming, possibilities opening up. Lady Westfield wasn't just another potential relationship—she represented access to house authority, political protection, and resources that could be incredibly valuable.
My status window flickered briefly:
[NEW OPPORTUNITY DETECTED]
"The Lonely Lady"
Objective: Build connection with neglected wife seeking appreciation
Progress: 15%
Potential Rewards: House Authority Access, Political Protection, Resource Control
The game was getting more complicated, but also more promising. With Keira providing combat training and growing romantic interest, and now Lady Westfield showing clear attraction despite the risks, my network of influence was starting to take real shape.
Tomorrow's wine tour would show me just how far that influence could go.