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Chapter 64
“Lady Litresha, have you heard? At the meeting the other day, they discussed your marriage to His Grace!”
“That’s right! They did!”
“…Huh?”
Litresha, sitting under the high sun while spooning up lemon sherbet without a care, forgot to close her mouth as she stared at Mia’s notepad.
Beside Mia, Allen—now fully recovered—was stamping his feet excitedly.
Apparently, the moment he regained his health, he had begged Marsha to let him serve Litresha. But because of an errand Litresha herself had asked of him, his assignment had only just been decided.
Allen’s role had been that of a storyteller, reading fairy tales to the children of Telsey Village.
People of the North were generally tall and broad, so even when they tried to blend in, their presence stood out. But most of the other servants weren’t healthy enough to take on such duties anyway.
So when no one suitable could be found, Allen volunteered. No doubt he saw it as a chance to stay here rather than return to the capital.
His intentions aside, Allen—being an orphan himself—was used to playing with children at his old orphanage whenever he had days off. He was more than accustomed to such work, and since his appearance was far from the typical Northerner, he was able to enter the wary, suspicious Telsey Village without difficulty.
And of course, Allen turned out to be a splendid storyteller. Because he was doing it all for her sake, Litresha could no longer bring herself to pressure him to go back.
And so, things had turned out like this.
Though they had only recently begun speaking to each other, Allen was so sociable that he had quickly become close to Mia as well.
The fact that Mia was happily using her notepad in front of him without hesitation was proof enough. His freckled cheeks, flushed bright red, showed he was just as excited as she was.
“My wedding with Killian?”
“Yes!”
Mia wagged her notepad like an overjoyed puppy.
“Honestly, I was always disappointed that the two of you never had a proper ceremony. This is wonderful news, isn’t it?”
“Uh… y-yes.”
“I think the date will be set for next month. What kind of wedding would you like, Lady Litresha?”
Perhaps still dazzled by Justin’s wedding praise, Mia looked at her with a face full of romantic excitement, awaiting her answer.
“Well then, Mia, what kind of wedding do you want to have?”
“Me?”
Though she seemed a little disappointed by Litresha’s evasive reply, Mia clapped her hands together and eagerly scribbled down her dream wedding.
Litresha took a large spoonful of sherbet, now melting under the afternoon sun, and gave Mia the occasional response to match her excitement.
A butterfly fluttered down to rest on Litresha’s head before flying off again. Today was especially warm, so they were enjoying their tea time in the garden.
“And the dress? Do you have something in mind?”
“A dress?”
Litresha’s gaze drifted toward Killian’s chambers, where only one side of the heavy curtains had been drawn.
A wedding? Next month? That would be just over half a year before their contract was due to end…
“Do we really need a ceremony, Mia? We’re already married, after all.”
The unguarded words slipped out, and Mia nearly jumped in shock.
“What are you saying! Of course you need a wedding! The people of the domain must all be expecting it!”
“But for a duke and his wife, the scale of such a wedding would be enormous. That means the costs would be enormous too. I heard a lot of funds were already spent repairing embankments after the recent flood. So, perhaps—”
Litresha stopped short when she saw Mia’s eyes glisten with tears. She had clearly said something wrong again.
Sometimes, Gorten, Marsha, and Mia would all look at her that way whenever she said certain things.
“But it’s your wedding, Lady Litresha.”
Of course Litresha wasn’t attached to the idea—she wasn’t really his wife. But to Mia, her indifference seemed heartbreaking.
After scribbling furiously, Mia proudly slammed her memo down on the tea table like she’d found a decisive argument.
“And besides, His Grace is very wealthy! I-I mean, yes, there were hard times before, but now he wins every battle he leads, so…”
Her earnest attempt to reassure Litresha of the duchy’s stable finances was so endearing—and her concern so touching—that Litresha relented.
“All right, all right, I understand. Then why don’t you help me choose what kind of dress I should wear?”
“…! Yes! Leave it to me, Lady Litresha!”
“Does it please you so much? You can’t take your eyes off her for even a moment.”
Justin sipped the tea Marsha had served in Killian’s chambers.
The room’s master stood by the undraped side of the window, arms crossed. From there, the garden below was clearly visible.
As always, his gaze was fixed solely on Litresha.
Through the open window, her laughter with the young maid drifted in on the breeze.
Killian, standing unmoving, rubbed at his throat as though he hadn’t even heard Justin’s words.
Lately, it seemed he was often parched. Whenever he looked at Litresha, the thirst grew worse—so much so that no amount of water ever quenched it.
“Uncle.”
“What is it now?”
“Is Litresha’s treatment progressing well?”
“Again with that? How many times a day do you ask? You’ll wear my ears out.”
Justin dug a pinky into his ear with a sigh.
“You can see for yourself, can’t you? She’s still a little thin, but she’s putting on weight now. Her complexion is brighter, and she hardly ever faints anymore.”
“But there’s always the chance something might happen.”
“Well, caution is fine. But Phiril and I are staying up nights searching for treatments, so don’t worry too much.”
He flicked his fingers, then took another sip.
“You worry about her like that, and yet you insisted on refusing a wedding ceremony. Why?”
“We already completed the necessary formalities to become husband and wife. I simply thought a ceremony wasn’t required.”
“A wedding isn’t about requirements—it’s about the heart!”
“But Uncle, you don’t even know what that feels like. At any rate, we’ve agreed to proceed now, haven’t we?”
“….”
Unable to argue, Justin’s moustache twitched irritably.
“For the record, I didn’t fail to marry. I chose not to marry!”
“Yes, of course.”
That reply was somehow more infuriating than silence.
“You’ve grown insufferable. Give me back my sweet nephew, you rascal!”
Justin blew out a huff, drained his cup in a single gulp as though it were rum, wiped his mouth roughly, and wandered over to the window where Killian stood.
“Your uncle fumes, and you won’t even turn your head? Heartless boy.”
“….”
“Do you like Litresha that much?”
“…?”
Killian finally looked at him, brows lifting as if to ask what nonsense he was spouting.
“Don’t give me that blank look.”
“You asked if I liked her.”
“And? Don’t you?”
“…? I suppose I do.”
“Suppose? Suppose?! After what I’ve seen, you say ‘suppose’? Is this you suddenly getting shy?”
“What could I possibly be shy about?”
“…You’re serious?”
Even now, his eyes never left Litresha, yet Killian answered with a calm nod.
“It’s just… I feel uneasy unless I can see her.”
“…And that’s not liking her? You don’t realize how you look at her? Anyone else would call it shamelessly affectionate.”
“Me?”
A crooked laugh slipped from Killian’s lips.
“You’re completely mistaken, Uncle. Affection? Hardly. It’s resentment. Or perhaps obsession.”
He had no intention of putting on the façade of the besotted duke, not even for Justin.
“Affection, you say? Do I look like someone capable of harboring such a tender thing?”
“Killian.”
“At best, it may appear that way. I hover like a madman, terrified she’ll vanish if I look away. I play every trick to bind her here, to make her grow attached. From the outside, yes, I must look like a man in love.”
His own assessment of his actions was biting.
“But the truth is simple: I just want to keep her in my grasp. Not love, not affection—none of those pretty words.”
Justin stroked his beard, frowning at his nephew’s words, then asked quietly:
“I see. But tell me, boy… who ever said there’s only one form of love?”
