RALMH 60

Chapter 60

Ian returned to the Grand Duke’s residence and sat in the drawing room, holding a warm cup of tea in his hands as he watched Betty from a distance.

She was reading through the script line by line, carefully following the words with her finger under the flickering light. The quiet scene carried a sense of peace, enough to make him hesitate to interrupt her.

But the question that had been circling in his mind all this time wouldn’t go away, and in the end, he had no choice but to bring it back to the only person who could answer it.

“Betty.”

She didn’t seem to hear him the first time. Betty, frowning deeply as if she were struggling to read a difficult line, didn’t stir in the slightest.

“Betty.”

This time he stepped closer and sat down in the chair across from her. Betty finally lifted her head and smiled faintly when she noticed the pile of papers in his hand.

“You must still have documents to review.”

“It’s nothing important. Just routine checks.”

That was the truth. Cain’s claim—that there was a reason the Emperor kept assigning Ian all kinds of work—wasn’t wrong.

Ian had hurried through the mountain of paperwork, faster than usual, simply to carve out time to come here to Betty.

“All of that, just now?”

“If not, I wouldn’t be called His Majesty’s most capable servant.”

Because of his curt tone, Betty realized only a beat later that he had just made something close to a joke.

“The standard for being His Majesty’s capable servant is awfully high.”

“Not that high. Honestly, it’s mostly because I’ve served him since his days as prince.”

Ian repeated the very words often used by those who enjoyed belittling him, speaking them casually as if they were nothing.

Many nobles hated how much trust Emperor Lloyd placed in him.

Unfortunately, such words were sometimes even heard among the Emperor’s own faction. If not for Marquis Prowell’s unwavering support, Ian surely would have been left terribly isolated.

Prowell. Prowell.

At that moment, something flashed across Ian’s mind.

Ignoring the tea served for him, he leaned forward slowly and asked Betty,

“Your father’s name… was Aaron, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s right. Mother wrote it down here.”

“And your father, what did he do?”

Betty didn’t seem to find it strange that Ian was suddenly curious about her family. She answered casually.

“I heard he was either a knight or was preparing to be one. In any case, he was good with a sword, so he worked as a mercenary.”

Ian’s gaze fixed on her brown hair.

If those rounded eyes had, instead of their warm brown, the vivid green he knew so well…

It was a ridiculous thought, yet when he began piecing the fragments together one by one, he couldn’t help but think maybe.

Aaron. Sword. Brown hair. Age. Her parents’ past. The theater.

The thought was hard to dismiss. But it was a topic too dangerous to bring up recklessly.

If he asked Prowell directly, the man might only face deeper despair if it turned out to be false. He needed to investigate further, properly.

Betty, oblivious to his silent struggle, suddenly set her papers down and spoke.

“Would it be all right if I visited my aunt tomorrow? I feel I won’t be at ease until I see her myself and confirm that she’s really all right. And I probably need to explain things to her, too.”

Because the Grand Duke said he was keeping an eye on things, Betty had believed his words and found comfort.

But even so, comfort didn’t erase her worry. And her aunt would certainly be baffled by the vague explanation that Betty had suddenly quit the ducal household and was living with another noble family.

After all, Betty had never even told her aunt that she had been working at House Prowell in the first place.

From the beginning, her aunt had been against her working in a noble household, so Betty had kept her words to herself. For that reason, she wasn’t planning to explain everything that had happened recently either.

Still, joining a noble family in any form was a major matter—something she couldn’t simply decide and announce on her own.

Maybe I can ask her about Mother.

Her aunt rarely spoke of her mother.

Betty knew the sisters had been apart for a long time. And after her mother’s passing, speaking of her had become even harder. So there had never been an opportunity to share those distant memories openly.

But surely her aunt knew something—whether fact or conjecture.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Your Grace, you will?”

“Even if not me, you shouldn’t go alone.”

Betty realized then that her very existence could bring significant trouble to others, and her face darkened slightly.

“I’m causing a lot of people worry, aren’t I?”

“That’s because it’s you. Both I and Marquis Prowell care.”

“But it feels like I’m keeping someone as busy as you tied down. You really don’t have to.”

“I’m not busy.”

If Cain had heard that—still in the office cleaning up paperwork—he would have shouted in outrage, preparing for yet another all-nighter. Fortunately, he wasn’t here to hear it.

“…Then, please. I’d be grateful.”

Though she hesitated, Betty nodded slowly, less reluctant than the first time she had accepted his help.

The next day, Betty prepared to leave. For some reason, she felt uneasy and kept glancing sideways at the Grand Duke walking at her side.

It would draw too much attention to drive the ducal carriage straight through the heart of the city, so they had gotten down partway and continued on foot.

Wrapped in a plain cloak like those worn by ordinary knights, the Grand Duke had taken the role of her escort with an ease that made the situation feel perfectly natural to him.

But for Betty alone, it felt strange and uncomfortable.

He cut through the crowd skillfully, occasionally checking to make sure she was safe, opening the way for her as they went. Betty found herself watching him with a peculiar feeling.

“What is it?”

“…Nothing.”

How could she admit that she kept staring because it felt oddly special—and overwhelming—to have someone like him as her guard?

Her aunt’s house was actually quite close. Betty entered through the side entrance behind the bakery. The shop was already closed for the evening.

“Aunt, it’s me!”

“Betty, you’re here.”

As soon as she opened the door, her aunt came out to greet her warmly. But then her eyes flicked upward, falling on Ian, and a flash of surprise crossed her face.

“And this is…?”

Betty had brought the Grand Duke, but she hadn’t thought about how she should formally introduce him to her aunt.

She realized belatedly that she couldn’t just present him like an ordinary acquaintance, not when he was someone she felt so at ease with—someone she had come to treat almost like a friend.

“This is Ian.”

He inclined his head slightly and lied without the slightest blink of an eye.

“…Yes. Ian. Sir Ian.”

Realizing he had no intention of revealing his true identity, Betty decided to go along with it and supplied a name.

Only when she met his deep blue eyes did she realize—she had just addressed the Grand Duke by name, as if he were no more than an ordinary man.

“And who is he, that you’ve come together?”

Her aunt’s questioning was a formidable obstacle. But this time, Betty managed to show some quick thinking.

“He’s the escort assigned to me at the place I’m staying now, after leaving the ducal household.”

“You left the ducal household? Why? And where are you staying now?”

“It’s a long story, Aunt.”

Instead of pressing further, her aunt simply looked at her for a long time.

“…So in the end, you got caught up in the tangled interests of the nobility. I told you nothing good could come from getting too close to high-ranking people. Even becoming Lady Prowell’s personal maid was a bad sign, no matter how much more money they paid you.”

Yet her voice, heavy with a long sigh, carried a strange matter-of-factness, as though she had expected this all along—as if it were inevitable.

“Come in, both of you. Sir Escort as well.”

Ian, unlike Betty, paid close attention to her aunt’s words. He had the distinct sense that here, he might discover the very clue or proof he had been searching for.