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Chapter 43
Silien was the first to open her lips.
“Well, I… I try to compliment him often, even about small things. Things like, ‘Your hair looks great today,’ or ‘That suit looks wonderful on you.’ Men secretly love hearing that sort of thing.”
Her smiling face seemed gentle, but in the corners of her eyes lay the practiced skill of someone who knew how to tame another with subtle sweetness.
Though she usually allowed Lucien to take the lead in their relationship, there was no mistaking that her touch was far from insignificant.
Next, Chelsea quietly set down her teacup.
“I… I try to listen.”
Lowering her gaze modestly, she spoke in a soft, careful tone.
“My husband is someone who thinks a lot. It makes him thorough with his work, but sometimes… he gets weighed down by his own thoughts.”
There was a tender warmth under her composed words.
“So whenever I notice him brooding, I sit him down and make him talk. Once he starts laying things out one by one, he usually finds his own direction.”
A faint smile curved Chelsea’s lips, as if recalling her husband. Within it shimmered the quiet trust only those who had shared a long time together could carry.
Lastly, Monica leaned back, arms folded across her chest.
“Me? Hmm… I suppose, keeping my stamina up?”
She gave a meaningful grin as she set down her teacup.
“We fight in the morning, and make up at night.”
Silien nearly dropped her teacup with a clatter.
“My goodness, Lady Monica! To say such a thing here—!”
“Why not? It’s not as if we’re the only ones who go through it.”
Monica smirked, lifting her cup once more.
Flustered, Silien glanced around with a flushed face and muttered in a low voice.
“Still… in front of Her Grace, the Grand Duchess…”
“I found it rather refreshing.”
Edith’s quiet laugh slipped into the air.
The canvas canopy above them rippled gently in the breeze, carrying with it a few ripples of laughter.
Different as the three women were in temperament, there were surprising moments where their conversation harmonized.
Silien chattered away with playful cheer, Chelsea interjected with thoughtful nods, and even Monica—who had bristled the most at first—let out the occasional chuckle.
By the time the sweets upon the tea table had vanished, Edith was smiling as she looked at each of them in turn.
“Then I hope you’ll all be comfortable during your stay at the Grand Duke’s residence. I’ll make sure you don’t feel uneasy in this unfamiliar place. Please, don’t hesitate to tell me if you need anything.”
At her gentle words, the three ladies turned their eyes toward her. After offering bows of thanks in their own ways, they followed the waiting maids back to their chambers.
Meanwhile, the couples who had been apart were once again reunited in their rooms.
“So, how was tea time, my dear?”
Lucien asked the moment Silien stepped inside.
Adjusting her skirts as she sat down, she let out a long sigh.
“Not easy at all. Maybe it’s because they’re commoners, but they barely spoke a word. I had to chatter away all by myself. Even Her Grace the Grand Duchess—so terribly composed.”
“Hmm… You didn’t say anything you shouldn’t have, did you?”
“Of course not, darling. I smiled so sweetly the entire time. But that woman… she’s confusing. From the rumors I’d heard, I expected her to be overbearing.”
Lucien chuckled softly.
“Isn’t that good for us? Perhaps she just enjoyed your charm.”
That made Silien brighten with satisfaction.
“Since I’m trying this hard, you must do your part well too, understand?”
With delicate fingers, she straightened his tie and whispered close.
“Don’t forget. The aide’s position must be ours.”
“Was the room uncomfortable in any way?”
Emile asked cautiously. Chelsea nodded as she sat by his side.
“No. It was actually quite pleasant, quiet even. And… Her Grace even addressed me with the same respect she used for the others.”
“Respect? To you?”
Emile blinked in surprise. Chelsea let her head rest lightly on his shoulder, murmuring softly.
“She seems like a good person. Oh, and I talked a little about you.”
His shoulders tensed.
“W-what did you say?”
“Hmm… That’s a secret.”
“Chelsea…!”
“Haha. Anyway, she seems kind. So let’s not waste this opportunity.”
Emile’s expression grew more serious.
“About that… There’s a slight problem. It’s about Her Grace’s test…”
As he began to speak with a grave face, Chelsea listened quietly, her gaze steady.
Under the faint glow of the lamp, two silhouettes lay side by side beneath the blanket.
Kyle rested on one arm, gazing at the ceiling before turning his head toward the beautiful woman beside him.
His wife, Monica, lay without a trace of makeup, her lips no longer red, long since faded from the marks of countless kisses.
She stretched out her fingers, tracing slowly along the scar beneath his ribs.
“This one… was from the Battle of Braben, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. When a beast pierced my side.”
“And this?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten? The fool who tried to kill me because he had fallen for my lady—that’s from him.”
“Ah, that was here, was it.”
Monica’s reply was nonchalant, but she tugged the blanket up slightly as she whispered.
“It still feels unreal, that you’ve come all the way here.”
“I feel the same.”
Kyle turned his head to look at her.
“Who would have thought I’d see the day I wore a suit to job interviews.”
Though he laughed, fatigue and a faint anxiety shadowed his smile.
Monica gazed into his eyes for a long moment before murmuring low.
“I’ll love you no matter what form you take, no matter where you are. So don’t let yourself shrink.”
That evening.
As the soft lavender twilight fell beyond the windows, the Grand Duchess’s chambers were filled with quiet yet busy preparations.
As hosts, both she and the Grand Duke had to display their dignity for the banquet where all guests would gather.
Edith wore a snow-white gown embroidered in delicate silver. Against her cascading crimson hair, she looked like a camellia blooming on untouched winter snow.
Melissa, arranging her hair, muttered in frustration.
“It’s always hard to choose ornaments for Your Grace. Everything looks too good on you…”
She placed a string of pearls atop the red hair, frowned, then replaced it with a pale flower, only to tilt her head again.
Edith chuckled at Melissa’s furrowed brows.
“I want to look softer tonight… Let’s go with this one.”
What she had chosen was a platinum hairpiece, adorned with subtle pearls and tiny crystals, understated yet undeniably elegant when viewed up close.
Melissa gently swept back strands of hair and fixed the ornament carefully.
Edith tilted her head, examining her reflection in the mirror.
“…See? I knew it.”
Melissa laughed, speaking reverently.
“There isn’t a thing that doesn’t suit Your Grace. I only tormented myself for nothing.”
Smiling, she stepped back. Edith stood before the mirror, giving her gown a final adjustment.
The glow of sunset spilled across her pearl-white dress.
At that moment—
Click.
The door opened, and a familiar figure appeared in the mirror’s reflection.
It was none other than Denok.
Dressed in his black formal uniform, it was plain compared to a Grand Duke’s attire, yet the fitted shirt and the glimpse of his solid frame beneath spoke volumes.
He let his gaze wander the room before it settled on Edith.
Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Melissa quickly bowed.
“Then I’ll take my leave, Your Grace.”
She hurried out, closing the door behind her.
Left alone, Edith glanced at the man standing at the threshold through the mirror. She waited, hoping for him to speak.
But Denok said nothing.
He simply watched her—quiet, unwavering.
