Chapter 1
The Meeting That Summer
A gentle summer breeze slipped in through the wide-open window, lifting the lace curtains in soft ripples. It was a summer day bathed in beautiful sunlight. From the second-floor bedroom overlooking a garden full of blooming roses, a woman with softly curled brown hair stood before a mirror, wearing a light summer dress.
Once she was dressed, she stared quietly at her reflection, a faint smile curving her lips.
If she greeted her guest with this smile—what kind of expression would he make?
Would his cheeks flush red?
Would he be too shy to meet her eyes?
She would find out soon enough, yet her curiosity only grew stronger—because of the name of the guest who would soon arrive.
“I can’t believe René Martin is going to host a Reinharke.”
Should she send someone to meet him at the station? Or perhaps claim she was too ill to take in a boarder and send him away?
But no—her curiosity to confirm what the Duke’s letter had said was even greater.
“They say curiosity killed the cat…”
Still torn, she finally realized it was time to go. René stepped out of her upstairs room, walked down the corridor, and descended the staircase. Picking up her parasol and looping a small handbag over her wrist, she opened the front door. The coachman waiting outside removed his hat and bowed politely. René smiled brightly and climbed into the carriage.
The carriage rolled along the neatly paved streets of the residential district, then onto a quiet country road. The scent of warm earth drifted up as sunlight poured through the leaves, flashing in brilliant green. The tender leaves fluttered in the wind, pale yellow-green in the light.
She’d lost count of how many times she had done this—going to the station to meet them.
It had begun three years ago, when she was twenty-two.
There weren’t many ways for a woman without special skills to make a living—but there were some. Several noblemen, enchanted by her beauty, had offered her generous estates if she would become their mistress. Yet René had chosen this work instead—for the strange satisfaction it gave her.
For the young men who boarded at her house were not ordinary youths, but sons of noble families.
Before entering schools where they would mix with commoners, these well-bred young gentlemen stayed in René’s home to learn how ordinary people lived—how to eat without servants, how to dress themselves, how to behave when shopping with a lady, and how to greet a stranger on a walk.
After a few months under the same roof, most of them ended up adoring her.
Their reactions once they left were always one of two extremes—continued adoration… or complete contempt.
What kind will this one be?
Thinking that, René smiled faintly to herself.
The carriage stopped in front of the station. When René stepped inside, the waiting crowd turned to look at her. She walked slowly toward the platform, squinting slightly against the sunlight as she opened her parasol.
After a while, the whistle of a train echoed from afar. A black locomotive came charging in, trailing clouds of white steam. The stationmaster rang a small bell and stepped forward as the train screeched to a stop, wheels grinding against the rails.
Through the haze of steam, dust, and the murmuring crowd, René turned her head, watching passengers disembark one by one, wondering which of them would be the one to share her summer.
People poured out, porters hurried about unloading luggage. Latecomers rushed to catch the departing train, bumping into passengers coming off, tangling momentarily at the doors.
Something felt… off.
René tilted her head slightly. The train was already preparing to leave. The stationmaster blew his whistle; porters loaded new cargo. From the distance, someone ran and barely managed to leap aboard before the doors closed. Steam hissed again, and the train began to move.
Odd.
There was no sign of the young man who was supposed to be her new lodger.
The platform, once crowded, quickly emptied. René turned from side to side, but the guest she awaited was nowhere to be seen. A cloud drifted across the sun, and a cool breeze swept through the summer platform. She glanced at her wristwatch. He must have missed the train.
Then—the shadow on the tiled floor shifted as sunlight flooded back across the ground. The sky above turned a vivid blue, clouds floating like scraps of silk.
“Miss Martin?”
Startled, René turned.
Behind her stood a man in a brown suit—far too formal for such a hot summer day. Tilting her parasol slightly, she looked up.
Beneath it stood a young man on the cusp between boyhood and manhood, gazing down at her. His black hair gleamed against his pale skin, his cheeks flushed like a shy boy’s, and his eyes were a curious shade of gray.
René smiled fully now, greeting him with her eyes. The young man let out a small sigh of relief and returned her smile—bashful, embarrassed, but sincere.
“Leopold Reinharke,” he said.
He extended his hand and took hers lightly, bowing to press a polite kiss to the back of her hand. It was flawless etiquette.
René placed her fingers delicately on his offered arm.
“Welcome. Shall we go home?”
Inside, the sun-baked station felt as cool as a cave.
Perhaps that was why the young man’s back and neck seemed so stiff with tension. He supported her arm well enough, but his slanted shoulders revealed his nervousness—and perhaps, René thought, a hint of why such a young man needed to board with her in the first place.
As she let out a small chuckle, Leopold’s blush deepened. René folded her parasol and gestured toward the carriage. He quickly nodded and straightened by the door, bowing slightly and offering his hand.
She took it and climbed in, glancing sideways at him still standing like a wooden post. When their eyes met, his pink cheeks flared crimson.
“Ahaha!”
Unable to hold back her laughter, René watched as Leopold awkwardly scrambled into the carriage after her, wearing a sheepish expression.
“If I’ve done something wrong, will you forgive me?” he murmured.
Still laughing, René signaled the coachman. The carriage set off again, stirring up a small cloud of dust behind them.
Neither spoke for a while as the carriage swayed along the road.
René was busy thinking about where to begin the lessons that awaited them; Leopold, his face still burning, couldn’t manage a word. Yet from the corner of his eye, he kept stealing glances at her—at the graceful curve of her nose and lips. Without realizing it, he turned his head slightly.
Noticing, René turned to meet his gaze—and Leopold instantly faced forward again.
René raised an eyebrow.
Those gray eyes that had been staring at her moments ago were now fixed downward, silent. How odd. Usually by this point, the young men would begin their clumsy compliments.
“You’re beautiful, Miss Martin.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, René.”
Or, from the bolder ones—
“I fell in love at first sight. May I kiss you?”
Those, of course, earned a swift slap across the face.
But this one said nothing, just stared stiffly ahead.
Was she not to his liking? she wondered. Yet the way he kept sneaking glances suggested otherwise.
Finally, René spoke first.
“You gave me quite a time looking for you. Where were you hiding?”
“It’s I who had trouble finding you.”
René blinked, incredulous. She had been standing in plain view with a parasol, impossible to miss.
Handsome, and apparently quite adept at lying.
“How long did you spend looking for me, to say something so cheeky?”
“Six years?”
René gaped at him. Leopold laughed softly at her expression. When she leaned slightly toward him, smiling, he caught a whiff of roses. Her soft hair brushed his shoulder. He reached out almost unconsciously and touched her cheek.
René’s eyes widened at the sudden gesture. But Leopold drew his hand back casually, his face returning to calm composure. René straightened as well, both of them now facing forward in silence.
The clouds drifted over the sun, and a cool breeze passed through.
It was a beautiful summer afternoon.
