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Chapter 12
By the time he stepped out of the imperial palace, his conversation with the Emperor had stretched long into the evening.
“Your Grace the Grand Duke, it is an honor to receive you.”
It suddenly struck Ian just how inappropriate the hour was for a visit. He noticed a fleeting hint of discomfort on the face of the Duke’s butler, who had come to greet him upon his arrival.
But he didn’t want to turn back now. Suppressing his growing restlessness with a sliver of anticipation, Ian asked,
“May I see Lady Charte today?”
“One moment, if you please. I will inform the lady that Your Grace has arrived.”
The butler, now having quickly regained his usual composure, disappeared into the mansion.
Ian was eventually led to the drawing room, where he found himself seriously considering whether he should just leave a brief letter saying he’d return in the morning.
Just then—
“Your Grace, I apologize for the delay.”
The woman with fiery red hair entered, accompanied by a brown-haired maid.
She wore a deep blue dress, more fitting for a formal ball than a casual meeting. Gone was the easy, open tone from their letters; nervousness now clearly showed on her face.
Not that Ian was any less tense. So he didn’t think her behavior particularly odd.
“Lady Vivian Charte.”
As he instinctively reached for her hand to kiss, his eyes caught on a ruby ring that sparkled unusually bright.
He couldn’t tell if she’d worn it on purpose—or simply always wore it. Either way, it was a ring he remembered being on the list of gifts he’d sent.
Seeing her wear it eased his mind somewhat. It affirmed that their correspondence hadn’t been a fantasy.
But when he looked up, what met his eyes was a cautious, almost guarded gaze—like one meeting a stranger.
That look…
It was as if she had forgotten all the ease and warmth they’d shared in their letters.
Again, something felt off. A subtle unease stirred within him, rekindling the doubts he had tried to suppress on his way to the capital.
Vivian Charte quickly withdrew her hand and tucked it behind her dress, as if to hide it.
“It’s nice to see you again,” she said, tilting her head with cool formality—and then fell silent.
Ian, recalling the vivacious tone of her letters, had assumed she’d have much to say. So he waited.
But instead, she looked more flustered by his silence.
After a few awkward moments, she glanced sideways at the maid standing beside her—clearly signaling for help in the conversation.
Naturally, Ian’s gaze followed hers—and met the warm brown eyes of the maid.
Betty felt a sudden jolt of panic as their eyes locked. She fought hard to keep from visibly reacting.
Really? After all that confidence earlier, now she’s looking at me for help?
Just before they entered the drawing room, Betty had rushed to slip the ruby ring onto Vivian’s finger—thank goodness.
Vivian had insisted she didn’t need it, but Betty hadn’t been convinced.
She’d run to the healer’s home, nearly storming through the door, dumped a handful of gold coins on the table, and demanded the ring back.
“My lady, this ring. Please wear it, just in case.”
Betty stopped staring at the ring and lifted her eyes again—only to find the Grand Duke still looking at her.
“You’re…”
The emotion in those deep navy eyes, directed entirely at her, was unreadable.
Even though she knew the Grand Duke wasn’t the type to be rude or temperamental, she couldn’t help but feel nervous.
“You’re the maid from before. Are you sure you weren’t injured that day?”
“…Pardon? Oh, yes. I’m fine.”
Betty was stunned. He remembered their very first, seemingly insignificant meeting?
“Your Grace, you know Betty?”
“I recall seeing her at the ducal ball.”
At last, Ian turned his gaze to Lady Charte.
“I see. And how do you know her exactly?”
It wasn’t clear why he would continue this line of conversation about a maid.
But when she glanced back at him, Vivian’s eyes sparkled with relief.
And Betty immediately understood.
She’s trying to shift the attention to me.
Vivian Charte clearly intended to redirect the conversation—using Betty’s previous encounter with the Grand Duke as an excuse.
She seemed desperate to bow out of this meeting altogether.
“There was a minor incident… due to my mistake…”
Betty trailed off, sensing something ominous in the Grand Duke’s expression. Especially as his gaze drifted back to her.
“Actually, it reminded me of what you mentioned in your letter.”
If she had been allowed to scream at that moment, she would’ve buried her face in her hands and denied reality entirely.
If he had at least explained clearly so Lady Charte would understand, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad—but now?
The noblewoman wore a thoroughly confused expression.
Swallowing a heavy sigh, Betty quickly interjected, praying the Grand Duke wouldn’t find her strange.
“If you’re referring to my aunt, she’s doing much better now. Thank you, Lady Charte, for caring enough to mention it in your letter to His Grace.”
That should be enough to jog her memory—especially since Betty had only just summarized the letter for her in a rush earlier.
Betty had seen the flicker of confusion on Vivian’s face even then.
“Why did you write that?”
“I thought it’d make you seem like a kind and graceful noble lady who cares for her servants.”
“…Fair enough.”
It had taken every ounce of effort to piece together a half-coherent version of the letter’s contents—but thankfully, she’d managed to cover almost everything.
As long as Vivian didn’t read the actual letter herself, it would be fine.
“Oh, right. Your aunt.”
She really did remember now.
“Betty is a wonderful maid, so of course I’d be concerned.”
“If you need further help, I can send my family physician. He’s very skilled—he’ll make a quick and accurate diagnosis.”
It was rare for the personal physician of a noble family to treat someone outside the household—especially a commoner.
Betty felt a flicker of warmth at his offer.
But it was clear his concern was directed not at her, but at Lady Charte.
Of course. I signed all those letters as the lady, not myself.
That was only natural.
The reason he was offering a physician wasn’t because he cared about her—it was because he wanted to comfort Lady Charte.
Betty knew she had to politely decline, if only to avoid unnecessary attention.
“Please send him.”
But Vivian cut in smoothly with the opposite answer.
“My lady, you don’t have to—”
She’d already done enough by giving Betty money. There was no need for further kindness.
But Vivian didn’t even glance her way. She stood firm, her tone resolute.
“My brother and father wouldn’t approve if I sent our own doctor. So I must ask for your help.”
“…Understood.”
The Grand Duke studied her expression for a moment, then nodded easily.
“I’d love to talk more, but it’s quite late. Is there anything urgent you wanted to discuss?”
“No, thank you. I apologize for disturbing you at this hour.”
“It was nice to see you again.”
Vivian’s words were short—almost as if she were deliberately keeping her distance.
And the Grand Duke hesitated oddly at her tone.
As if he were waiting—hoping—for her to say something more.
But in the end, he simply offered a shallow nod, a faint trace of disappointment on his face, and turned to leave.
Just then, Betty reached out and stopped Vivian.
She’d remembered something from the rushed letter she had scribbled.
“My lady—his injury. Ask about his injury.”
She didn’t want Felix to scold Vivian again just because the Grand Duke left so quickly.
Besides, it might help the mood to seem more concerned.
“What?”
“I think that’s what he’s waiting to hear.”
Betty glanced nervously toward the entrance. The Grand Duke had reached the central hall and was speaking briefly to a man who seemed to be one of his retainers.
Vivian hesitated. Then, as if recalling her brother’s advice to make a good impression, she followed after Ian.
Sensing someone behind him, Ian turned.
Vivian’s voice came out with deliberate warmth, surprisingly free of her usual sarcasm.
“Your Grace, is your injury healing well? I know you said it’s fine, but I couldn’t help worrying.”
“It’s nothing serious. Thank you for your concern.”
His voice was calm, but his tense expression softened slightly.
Betty, hearing his reply, felt relieved too.
He really was alright.
“Then… until next time.”
Vivian offered a half-hearted nod and turned back—heading up the stairs before the Grand Duke had even left the mansion.
