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Chapter 43
It was a quiet moment after leaving the Crown Prince’s office.
I left behind Oscar Cobran, who looked as though he’d been struck on the head.
My mood was a little soured, but at least I’d gained some insight into the current state of affairs.
At the end of the corridor, I saw Derek waiting.
I walked toward him, only for my eyes to sting sharply.
“Ah, what is this. Did something get in my eye?”
Was it an eyelash?
I rubbed as I walked, but that only made it feel like it was digging deeper.
The sting grew so bad that tears welled up.
Derek, who had been waiting, hurried over.
“What’s wrong, my lady?”
“Ah, ugh. Sir Derek. I think something got in my eye. I need a mirror.”
At all times, why hadn’t I brought Vivian along today?
Vivian always carried a small mirror and a few touch-up tools, perfect for moments like this.
My tears were spilling freely now, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
“Just a moment, my lady. Put your hand down. Let me look.”
“Ah, it’s just—”
“Rubbing only makes it worse.”
It was embarrassing to tilt my eye open for Derek, but I had no other choice.
The tears trickled into my nose, making me sniffle.
In the end, I had to give in, lowering my hand and letting Derek inspect my eye.
The tall knight leaned in, peering carefully, then blew a gentle puff of air before reaching in with careful fingers.
At last, he pulled something free and showed me.
“An eyelash.”
Of course.
So it was an eyelash.
Unbelievable that a single one could cause so much trouble.
“As I thought… my lashes are too long, I suppose. It felt unbearable. Thank you, Sir Derek.”
“I’m glad you’re all right now.”
He offered me a handkerchief, and I dabbed the wet corners of my eyes.
Then I turned and walked in the opposite direction from where I had come.
Vincent was hurrying up the stairs.
Late.
It had already been ten minutes past the time he’d invited Amelia for tea.
He had even cancelled his private sword practice for this, but something urgent had come up on the way, delaying him.
Since he couldn’t cancel anything later in the day, he had sacrificed his practice for this meeting.
This meant that, with the delay, their time together would be cut even shorter.
As he rushed upward, Vincent suddenly froze.
In the corridor above, Amelia was walking.
Her eyes and nose were red, and the faint sniffles left no doubt she had been crying.
Why?
Was it because he was late?
No, from what he had seen of Amelia lately, that didn’t seem likely.
The problem was that he couldn’t bring himself to approach her like this.
If Amelia cried in front of me, I’m not sure I could suppress the urge to take her into my arms.
That must never happen.
And yet, calling her here for tea today had already been contradictory.
The right thing to do was to avoid her, to distance himself.
But today he had a reason, a pretext he could use, so he’d allowed himself this lapse.
After Amelia passed by, Vincent continued climbing the stairs, his thoughts circling back to the question.
Why was she crying?
He paused in the middle of the hall, torn between heading toward the Crown Prince’s office or following the path Amelia had taken.
At that moment, the door to the office flew open and Oscar Cobran stormed out.
“By any chance, were you referring to His Majesty?”
Catching sight of Vincent, Oscar faltered mid-stride.
“Ah—Y-Your Highness.”
“What are you talking about? His Majesty?”
“Where is Lady Wentworth? She just left here.”
“She was crying.”
“She… cried?”
Oscar’s pupils shook violently as he searched the hall for Amelia, already gone.
Panic was written all over his face.
“So, does something come to mind? Were you with her inside?”
“Y-Yes… I was.”
Oscar’s lips pressed into a grim line.
Now that he thought back, perhaps he had been too harsh.
He had been shocked to see Lady Wentworth poring over documents and lashed out without thinking.
Still, had he really needed to say so much?
She had seemed composed in front of him, so he thought it hadn’t mattered—but maybe she had been hurt.
He still disliked Amelia, but knowing she might have cried because of him left a sour weight in his chest.
In this age, a man who makes a lady cry is no gentleman.
“I… I believe I ought to apologise.”
At that, Vincent’s expression darkened, his gaze hard on Oscar.
“What exactly happened?”
“Well…”
Oscar began, but a door opened at the far end of the hall.
“Did you see earlier?”
“You mean Lady Wentworth and her knight? Sir Derek, wasn’t it?”
Two courtiers from the Crown Prince’s palace stepped out, chatting idly.
The corridor bent at an angle, so unless they turned their heads, they couldn’t see Vincent and Oscar.
Thinking no one was listening, they went on.
“Right, they looked rather… affectionate, didn’t they?”
“They did, didn’t they? I thought it was just me.”
Their voices dropped lower.
“It seemed like Sir Derek was comforting Lady Wentworth while she cried. And they looked very close.”
“You don’t think the two of them are—”
“Shh. Keep your voice down. She’s still the Crown Prince’s fiancée.”
“Well, it’s not uncommon for noblewomen to keep a knight as a lover.”
“Ah, you think it could be like that?”
As they walked away, their voices faded down the corridor.
Oscar kept his mouth shut, glancing sideways at Vincent.
He was certain Vincent felt nothing for Amelia, but even so, no man liked hearing rumours like that about his fiancée.
“Oscar Cobran.”
“Y-Yes, Your Highness.”
“You will explain in detail what happened inside.”
“…Yes, Your Highness.”
The office door shut with a heavy thud as the two entered.
Oscar flinched and looked at Vincent nervously.
Then, with a sudden realisation, he asked, baffled,
“But… isn’t this normally your sword training time?”
“I cancelled it for my appointment with Lady Wentworth.”
“Ah… then!”
So she had been telling the truth.
I had accused her of lying when, in fact, she had been scheduled to meet His Highness.
Oscar clutched his head with both hands.
“What on earth have I done?”
“I… I fear I said many inappropriate things to the lady.”
“Such as?”
Knowing Vincent could always confirm it through Amelia herself, Oscar braced for the scolding and confessed.
“You recall how she once barged into the office without warning? Though she hasn’t done so recently.”
“I remember.”
“I thought this time was the same. When she said she had an appointment with you, I told her not to lie.”
“…Haa, Oscar, I was the one who asked her to come.”
“I-I didn’t know!”
“And? Was that all?”
Oscar’s voice shrank smaller and smaller as he continued.
“I… may also have said that Your Highness would never truly accept her.”
Vincent’s lips parted slightly at that, and Oscar rushed to explain.
“B-But isn’t it true? I only meant—of course she cares for you, so yes, it would have hurt her feelings. I know I shouldn’t have said it aloud to her face.”
“…Haah, Oscar.”
Vincent dragged a dry hand down his face, swallowing back the words that rose to his lips.
She doesn’t love me anymore.
If I said it aloud, it would become too real, too final.
And some part of my pride wouldn’t let me.
