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Chapter 17
Ellen spoke with a satisfied smile.
“Then we’ll just have to make it perfect.”
“I’d love to help, but I’m terrible with numbers… Why don’t you ask His Grace to assign you a secretary instead? Someone gifted like Sir Alex.”
“I can handle it myself. Just trust me. All you need to do is prepare paper and a pen—and you can rest. No, wait. You might get bored, so go over there and have some cookies.”
Ellen pointed to the sofa.
“Milady…”
Dorothy’s eyes grew red. But Ellen had no time to comfort the young maid.
“Go on. And don’t come near me until you’ve finished all the cookies.”
At Ellen’s urging, the would-be distraction finally disappeared.
“Whew.”
Now then—shall I skim a little off Duke Lisio Devesse’s money? Well, strictly speaking, it wasn’t skimming. She was only taking what she’d saved based on market prices.
No, no. Buying cheap is the result of my effort and skill. That’s wages.
Ellen snickered inwardly and began moving her quill without rest.
For a long while, only the sound of the nib scratching across paper and the rustle of turning ledgers filled the room. Dorothy, having finished her cookies, returned with a worried look.
“You should take it easy, milady. You’ll make yourself sick at this rate.”
“No need to worry, Dorothy. I’m thrilled right now!”
Ellen’s eyes sparkled.
Her suspicion had begun the moment she turned to the first page of the head maid’s ledger.
And that suspicion soon became certainty.
The head maid had been embezzling large sums of money through various clever tricks.
Wow, that’s quite the scheme.
The head maid’s ledger was practically a handbook on how to siphon off funds.
Since I found the stolen money, I’ll just ask His Grace for a ten percent reward.
Ellen decided that was a perfectly reasonable request.
As the total of the stolen amounts kept rising, so did her focus.
It was like striking gold—the more she dug, the more treasure poured out.
* * *
On the day of Rohan’s visit, Ellen greeted him punctually and informed him that Marmonde was still alive.
She also told him that the person who had hired Marmonde to commit murder had shown him her saint’s emblem.
Hearing the description of the instigator, Rohan spoke grimly.
“The man matches the description of the one who was with Lady Ellen before her death.”
The one who killed Anais is trying to kill me too?
A saint and a noble lady—there had been no friendship between them, and the only contact they’d had were trivial consultations.
Did he think Anais told me something important?
Anais had only said someone was trying to kill her; she hadn’t named anyone.
And even if Ellen had known some secret, what power did a saint have to do anything about it?
No matter how I think about it, it makes no sense.
Ellen felt trapped in a fog of unanswered questions.
“Lady Ellen’s mother claimed she didn’t meet her that day, correct?”
“Yes. But the fact that she’s been secluded in her home for weeks is suspicious.”
“She hasn’t gone there either?”
“If you’re referring to the gambling house, no.”
Wasn’t her mother a gambling addict?
“That is suspicious. Please keep watching her.”
“Yes, milady. Next time, I’ll bring information worthy of your satisfaction.”
“Oh, no need. We’re slowly getting closer to the truth. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
Rohan, you don’t even know how much strength you give me.
Then something suddenly came to Ellen’s mind. She clapped her hands together.
“Ah! I prepared something for you, Sir Rohan!”
Ellen called Dorothy and ordered her to bring out the peach sherbet.
A refreshing sherbet was placed before Rohan. It had been meant for Ellen, but she decided to give it to him instead.
She wanted her old friend to taste it.
“Go on, try it, Sir Rohan.”
Ellen was bubbling with anticipation. Surely Rohan would be as delighted by the heavenly flavor as she was.
“It’s delicious.”
“Right? Isn’t it so good?”
Ellen propped her chin in her hands, smiling even more happily than when she’d eaten it herself, watching him enjoy it.
As their laughter and gazes crossed, it almost felt like they’d returned to the old days, back when they were simply friends.
“Actually, I prepared something as well.”
Rohan rummaged inside his coat. Ellen hadn’t received it yet, but she already knew what it was.
He always bought one whenever he went on patrol.
A collection of ballads recited by traveling bards, sold only at the street market!
Ellen was so touched she didn’t know what to do. Seeing her reaction, Rohan seemed flustered, as if thinking he’d made a mistake, and started to withdraw the book.
“Lady Ellen used to love these things, but Your Grace might not…”
“No! I love them too!”
How much had she adored those bards who brought news from faraway lands?
The name “bard” sounded so refined, but in truth, most were just peddlers who shooed away penniless kids like her.
But Ellen never left. She’d stand her ground, watching their performances until the end.
Their songs and witty stories had been dazzling. For a while, her dream had even been to become a bard herself.
Rohan had endured years of her pestering to call her by the name of a famous bard.
He’d even been one of the few spectators of her clumsy performances.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Thank you, Sir Rohan.”
Ellen hugged the collection tightly to her chest.
* * *
That night, before going to bed, Ellen took out the ballad collection.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say she’d been waiting for this moment all day.
“What’s that?”
Startled, Ellen’s shoulders jumped—she hadn’t even noticed Lisio sitting beside her while she was reading.
“Ah! You scared me!”
His gaze was intense as it fell on the book, and Ellen tried to calm her pounding heart.
“It’s a bard’s ballad collection.”
“So you’ve already given up on the ledgers?”
“Given up? Hardly. I finished my work before reading.”
Lisio snatched the book from her hands and quickly flipped through it.
“Low-grade storybook. Where did you get this?”
“Sir Rohan gave it to me.”
When Ellen reached out to take it back, Lisio lifted it out of reach.
What was he doing? She’d been enjoying it!
Ignoring Ellen’s flustered breathing, he kept skimming through the pages.
Suddenly, his brow arched.
“A noble lady runs away after falling in love with a knight, huh? Is this what you’re longing for?”
“There’s a story like that in there?”
He opened the book in front of her nose.
“Look, there it is.”
“Oh, you’re right! I haven’t read that far yet!”
“Shall I read it to you?”
Ellen shouted as he tried to take over her reading again.
“No! It’s only fun when I read it myself!”
“What are you going to do with this? Planning to run away?”
“How could I run away? I can’t even walk…”
Another lie. Her conscience pricked at her heart.
“You never know. The holy knight might carry you away.”
Rohan? The mere thought made her want to groan aloud.
But not thinking of herself and Rohan—just imagining the duchess and the knight in the story—Ellen felt her heart flutter.
To fall in such passionate love… that would be enough to die happy.
“It’s romantic.”
“Romantic?”
“An elopement born of love. It’s romantic.”
“And what of the husband left behind? Most would call that betrayal.”
Lisio’s lazy smirk dared her to argue.
How dare he belittle my beloved ballad!
She couldn’t lose this argument.
“You must not know because it’s your first time reading this kind of story. Here, look.”
Ellen poked at the earlier pages with her finger.
“See? The husband was cold and distant. He didn’t even spend the wedding night with her. Isn’t that reason enough? Simple adultery could never move a reader’s heart.”
Her confident tone was matched by the proud lift of her chest—but it quickly deflated.
Lisio’s eyes gleamed like a predator’s fixed on its prey.
“I—I just meant that I’d like to experience a passionate love like that… you know…”
Lisio tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.
“Beg me for it, then. Maybe I’ll give you that passionate, romantic love you want so badly.”
“Love isn’t something you force on someone. That’s an insult to love itself.”
Lisio let out a hollow laugh.
He’s laughing? Talking about love with this man is pointless.
“You’re lost in fantasy because you read trash like this. Read something more fitting for a duchess.”
As if there were special books just for duchesses.
Ellen hugged the collection tightly like a baby.
“Just don’t interfere with this one thing. I’ll hide it well so the maids don’t find it.”
Lisio looked between her and the book, then turned away, seemingly giving up.
Thank goodness. Ellen sighed in relief and gently brushed her hand over the cover.
“You were willing to risk your life for sherbet, yet you gave it up for the holy knight.”
Her relief was premature. Lisio’s eyes were cast downward as if indifferent, but the sharp set of his jaw betrayed the tension beneath.
