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Chapter 57
Ian shifted his body slightly, and Betty could sense him assessing the situation. Yet, he still hadn’t let her go.
The large, warm hand pressing against her back and the ticklish sigh that landed on her head strangely made even the tips of Betty’s fingers feel tingling.
“You can let me go now.”
Looking down at her from close by, Ian unconsciously brushed Betty’s disheveled hair aside.
The touch near her ear sent a strange shiver through her.
“Are you okay?”
“…Yes.”
Only now did she become fully aware of every part of her body that was touching him. Betty realized, a bit late, that one of her hands was resting on his chest.
Beneath her hand, she could feel the rapid heartbeat pounding. It was still fast.
“I… um…”
Betty quickly tried to step back, but being seated made it difficult. Her clumsy attempt to stand even made her wobble.
Ian silently steadied her. Betty ended up holding his hand for support and finally managed to stand properly.
“Th-thank you.”
Still, her cheeks felt burning hot. Betty couldn’t bring herself to meet Ian’s eyes and rambled awkwardly.
“You don’t seem… hurt anywhere.”
But if Betty had looked at Ian’s face, she might have noticed that he was just as flustered.
He, too, struggled to calm the uncontrollable racing of his heart, taking deep breaths, but it wasn’t easy.
His reaction to protect Betty had been instinctive.
Yet once he became aware of how close he and Betty were, the tense vigilance gradually shifted into another feeling.
‘It shouldn’t be like this…’
Still, unconsciously, he wished the moment of holding Betty a little longer could last. He didn’t expect to be so drawn to the feeling of her being safely in his arms.
“Ah, Your Highness, there’s… a lot of dust here.”
Betty’s attention quickly shifted to the dust covering his shirt.
Ian merely watched as she frowned, bending her head to brush it off. It wasn’t that he cared about the dust itself, but that he hadn’t often experienced someone paying such meticulous attention to him, and he wasn’t sure how to gauge it.
“You probably should worry more about yourself than me.”
As if deliberately catching his gaze, Ian gently removed the dust from the ends of Betty’s hair.
Betty’s expression instantly turned awkward, and she glanced around at her hair to see if there was more.
“Is it on other parts too? I keep brushing my hair back, so maybe that’s why.”
“If you just remove it from here and here, it should be fine.”
Following his hand gestures, Betty tilted her head, and a smile briefly appeared on her face before quickly fading into a slight frown.
“I’m sorry. I was careless, and you almost got hurt.”
“Don’t worry. My body’s sturdier than it looks.”
There was sincerity in his voice. Since childhood, he had endured neglect and occasional bullying without complaint. After training his body and getting used to injuries, he had become almost numb to external wounds.
In that sense, it was better for the boxes to hit him rather than Betty, who would react more sensitively to pain.
Even if similar situations repeated, he would behave in the same way every time.
“Still… pain is pain. Getting hurt is still getting hurt.”
His response seemed to read her mind.
Only then did Ian notice Betty’s gaze lingering on the multiple dark scars running diagonally across his exposed forearm.
“They’re so old that I don’t even remember how I got them. They don’t feel like anything to me anymore.”
A lie. One of those scars carried a searing memory from his childhood.
He had wanted to play with the other kids, so when asked to fetch fruit from a high tree, he obeyed. On his way down, he fell, severely injuring his arm.
Even as blood dripped, he tried to hide it, knowing he shouldn’t show it, but he couldn’t hide it from his mother.
‘Ian… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
For the first time, he saw his mother cry, heartbroken, while staring at his bloodied, scabbed arm. He never wanted to see it again.
From that day, Ian stopped trying to join the other kids. He could endure loneliness himself, but he didn’t know what to do about his mother’s tears.
“I know it’s not something I can control, but I hope Your Highness doesn’t get hurt.”
Coincidentally, Betty’s small hand lightly brushed over that very scar, as if to erase it. The warmth of her touch seemed to reach his heart instantly.
“You…”
He found it hard to speak. Betty’s heart felt so precious that he questioned whether someone like him even deserved it.
“Focus more on yourself.”
He took her hand with his other hand and allowed her to speak what she wanted to.
Betty, who considered the hearts of so many, had little time to care for herself.
“I didn’t mean you shouldn’t worry about me. I was… worried about you.”
It was heartfelt, yet saying it outright felt clumsy, as if begging to be noticed and cared for.
“I understand what you mean.”
A rare, awkward smile appeared on Betty’s face.
Even Vivian had worried about her: you don’t take care of yourself enough, make sure to look after yourself.
But Betty had never lived a life prioritizing herself, so it wasn’t easy. She always looked after others first—from her sick mother to her aunt, cousins, and even Vivian, who was like a unique friend to her.
“I’ve never done that before, so it’s a bit… difficult.”
Ian understood that feeling—having no one to rely on, having to stand alone. He knew it too well.
He had endured it, but he wished Betty didn’t have to. Neither of them needed to, if possible.
‘In that sense…’
Ian recalled the letter from Marquis Prowell shortly after he sent a brief report explaining how he had brought Betty out of the Dukedom. He had been struggling to find the right moment to discuss it with her.
-…Your mother wishes to have Betty adopted into an appropriate noble family. The main reason she came to see Baroness Hales was that. Naturally, she would prefer Prowell, but our family draws attention. To ensure Betty’s safety, her status is important, even if she gets caught up in noble conflicts.
He had suspected as much. Seeing how much they valued Betty, it made sense that for her to stay close to them while avoiding conflicts, her social status should match theirs to reassure everyone.
-You seem to understand Betty’s thoughts best. You could ask objectively. If we approached her directly, she might refuse or find it hard to express her opinion. She may not want to be adopted into a noble family.
In the end, Marquis Prowell’s conclusion was clear: Ian would bear the responsibility of informing Betty and seeking her opinion.
Even just before Betty arrived at the office, Ian hesitated. He questioned whether he was the right person to discuss this with her, especially since he hoped she would accept the proposal and wasn’t sure how to bring it up.
“Betty, there’s something I need to tell you.”
But now, as they were having one of their rare comfortable conversations, it seemed the perfect moment.
With a light sigh, Ian leaned half on the table and brought up the matter directly.
