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Chapter 28
“Um, Master.”
“Ah. It’s nearly lunchtime. Let’s head down to the dining hall.”
Caron, who had been working, set aside his documents and rose from his chair.
The attendant, watching him cautiously, opened his mouth carefully.
“Today as well, the young lady said she had pressing matters and will be dining separately…”
“Hah. So she’s avoiding me.”
Wasn’t she the one who asked for the kiss in the first place? Yet for the past two days, El had been skillfully keeping out of his way.
At this rate, didn’t it look as if he had forced himself on her? Already, Ena and several of the maids had been casting him less-than-kind glances.
Normally, he would have plucked out the eyes of those who dared look at him so insolently and thrown them out. But since he knew their attitude stemmed from affection for El, he couldn’t bring himself to rebuke them.
Still—unjust was unjust.
After the attendant withdrew, the old butler entered to report on the day’s schedule. Quickly, he grasped the mood in the room.
There were only ever two things that could put the master in such a foul temper:
either the retainers were raising a fuss,
or something had gone wrong with the young lady.
“Does the young lady not come out today, either?”
“No. She’s holed up so thoroughly, I can hardly catch a glimpse of a single strand of her hair.”
“…What in the world did you do to her?”
“Butler. Do you know a bit about women?”
“To some extent.”
“Then tell me—what on earth is the mind of a woman who asks for a kiss first and then runs away afterward?”
“…Well, er…”
The butler immediately realized which woman this was about—it could only be El.
At a loss for words, the butler stayed silent, when one of the knights standing guard beside them shifted his lips as though he wanted to speak.
“You. Speak. Looks like you know something.”
Caron jerked his chin at the knight.
With an air of great self-importance, the knight proudly declared:
“Your kiss must have been terrible, my lord!”
“……”
Ah. Another fool sent one rung higher on the ladder to death. The old butler swallowed hard and silently prayed for the knight’s soul.
“Ena, why is that knight running laps in the garden? Don’t knights usually train inside the drill yard?”
While shut up in her room copying passages from a history book, El happened to glance outside.
One knight was staggering along as he ran circles around the garden.
“He must have done something wrong,” Ena replied, setting down a light meal on El’s desk. She glanced outside as well.
“Wrong? So knights run laps around the garden when they’re punished?”
“Yes. The garden is so vast that even just two laps are enough to make most knights collapse.”
“Goodness.”
“Oh, young lady. Here.”
Ena pulled out a silver tray from the bottom of the serving cart and handed it to El. On top lay an envelope.
“Hm? What’s this?”
“An invitation to tea from the House of Viscount Melden.”
“Melden?”
“Yes. The family that hosted the last party.”
“…Ah.”
El’s expression instantly darkened. She could still feel the chilling memory of the cruel, stripping gazes that had seemed to peel her bare that day.
“Young lady, these people will be friendly toward you,” Ena reassured her.
“How can you be so sure?”
“They’re loyal to the Duke—even going so far as to oppose the retainers.”
“…Really?”
If they were allies to Caron, then El wanted to attend. She quickly tore open the envelope.
The invitation was written with neat, elegant script and in the most courteous manner.
“I want to go. Please make the preparations.”
“Yes, of course. Ah, about the dress…”
“…The palest pink one, please.”
El sighed in resignation as she recalled the state of her dressing room.
“Understood.”
Sensing her mistress’s feelings, Ena made no further comment and went straight off to choose the outfit.
“Did I… ever tell the Duke that I liked pink?”
El propped her chin on her hand, murmuring to herself. She never had. Not once had she said she liked anything pink.
Besides, Caron’s attire was always muted in color—at most a shade of blue or purple.
El tapped her fingertips on the desk. Something was eluding her, just beyond reach.
She knew well enough that Caron intended to make her a noblewoman.
But why? For what purpose did he want her to take that place?
Was it really for some political marriage? Somehow, El couldn’t shake the sense that at the end of Caron’s plans, there was a particular figure he was aiming for.
“Does he have some other motive…?”
“Young lady.”
Just as she felt she was getting close to the thought, a knock at the door pulled her out.
“Come in.”
It was the old butler.
Matters concerning El were usually handled between Ena and the butler.
“Young lady, I hear you have decided to attend the tea.”
“Yes, I intend to.”
“There’s no need to strain yourself.”
“I’m not straining. If anything, I’ve never once been of help to the Duke.”
Her expression turned bitter, the corners of her eyes drooping.
“You are already a great help simply by being here. That much, I assure you.”
“Thank you for the comfort.”
“It is no comfort. In time, the master will explain it himself. But truly, just by enduring and adjusting to life in this house, you give the Duke something no one else can provide. Not a single person could be of help to him in the way you are.”
“…And what exactly is that help?”
“Forgive me, young lady. Until the Duke gives permission, I cannot say.”
“…I see. Thank you anyway. I’ll do my best to recover quickly.”
The butler pressed his lips shut, though he longed to explain.
In truth, El’s very presence was already invaluable.
The retainers were incessantly sending letters—nearly daily—demanding to know just what kind of woman had been brought into the Duke’s household.
Of course, Caron had never answered them once.
From their perspective, they were scrambling to seat their own daughters by Caron’s side, yet some obscure woman of dubious background had already taken that place.
No doubt more than a few of the aging retainers had clutched their chests in fury and collapsed.
Yes, El’s existence alone gave Caron an advantage no one else could provide.
“Young lady, please have confidence. You are unique—irreplaceable. If you ever said you wished to leave this mansion, the Duke himself would stop you at all costs.”
“…Ha ha.”
Though she didn’t look as if she truly believed it, her smile broke through nonetheless, enough to show the words had eased her heart.
Yes. She was staying here for her usefulness. She wanted to help him—even just a little—as repayment.
“I’ll go and come back safely.”
El smiled brightly as she spoke. The butler finally let go of his tension and bowed respectfully.
May the young lady not suffer too deeply.
Until the moment El left for the outing, Caron did not show himself. Though she had been avoiding him, the fact that he didn’t appear to see her off left her feeling oddly empty.
Just before boarding the carriage, she turned back to the mansion.
“…Oh?”
Through a window, she caught sight of Caron. Hands shoved in his pockets, head tilted slightly, he was watching her.
Expressionless, he stared for a long moment, then abruptly turned away and disappeared.
“…He came to see me off.”
El murmured softly, and her lips curved slowly upward, stretching into a radiant smile of near-ecstasy.
Though she had been keeping her distance, she had feared deep down that he might cast her aside. But he was a far more generous man than she thought.
“I’ll be back safely.”
She bowed deeply toward the window, then climbed into the carriage.
By midday, the carriage had stopped before the mansion of Viscount Melden.
“Thank you.”
El thanked the driver as she stepped down. Unlike the grand party hall last time, this estate was not ostentatious—rather, it exuded a warm and homely charm.
“Ah, Baroness Olfné! Over here!”
The viscountess greeted her with a bright smile and led her inside. Somewhat dazed by the warm reception, El stepped into the garden.
It was filled with low-blooming flowers, giving it an adorable atmosphere.
At its center stood a white gazebo, elegant as if fairies might dwell within.
“It’s beautiful,” El breathed.
“Thank you for the compliment. Please, have a seat. Our family’s chef makes the most exquisite desserts.”
Following the viscountess’s lead, El sat down and received greetings from the others already present.
Their eyes were filled with warmth—so much so that El found herself stiff with wariness. The viscountess noticed and spoke gently.
“Baroness, we owe you an apology. I hear that was your first social event, and we allowed you to suffer such an unpleasant experience. I am deeply, truly sorry.”
“……”
“I felt I had to apologize on their behalf, even if it was not my doing.”
It was a candid, sincere admission.
And indeed, the incident had not been her fault.
Still, instead of frantically waving it off as usual, El lifted her teacup with calm poise.
“Please don’t trouble yourself, Madam. I’ve already put that day behind me.”
It was a complete lie, but the viscountess let out a sigh of relief and looked visibly glad.
“Thank you for accepting my apology.”
“Not at all. But the fragrance of this tea is wonderful. I can never seem to brew such a scent myself.”
“These are fresh tea leaves we’ve imported from the Eastern Empire. If you like them, I’ll send a box to you.”
“Truly? Thank you, Madam.”
El slipped seamlessly into the tea party.
Her graceful smile, her attentive listening, and her timely responses were a world apart from how she had appeared at the ball.
She drew upon everything she had studied—art history, gemstones—to engage with the noblewomen’s topics.
“My, Baroness, you are so elegant.”
“I hardly know what to say. Truly, I still have much to learn.”
“Nonsense. Actually, I’ve been curious—do you serve as the Duke’s aide in his household?”
“Yes. I still have much to learn, so I’m mostly observing, but I assist the Duke in his work.”
Her throat caught for a moment on the word assist, but recalling the butler’s encouragement, she forced herself to continue.
“Then you’ll be joining him on the domain inspection?”
“Ah… well, I’m not sure. His Grace rarely informs me in advance.”
El quickly searched her memory. Had he ever mentioned such a thing?
Oh—yes. She remembered. The day in the carriage, just before he kissed her, Caron had offhandedly mentioned a domain inspection.
“That’s true. Still, there is no lord like him.”
“‘Lord’…?”
The unfamiliar term made El blink.
Nobles normally addressed each other by title, not with a word that so plainly denoted hierarchy.
And yet, these nobles spoke of Caron openly as their lord—and accepted it.
Even though they themselves were not knights but peers in their own right.
(To be continued in the next chapter)
