Chapter 49
49
Like Wings
“That hairstyle doesn’t suit you.”
The duke’s abrupt remark was utterly absurd. Once Leila puzzled it out and finally understood what he meant, she plunged into even greater confusion. What on earth was this ridiculous conversation with this man?
“I know. It’s a bit…… clumsy.”
Her tone sharpened at the sudden criticism.
“A bit?”
The duke, who had been scrutinizing her coolly, shot back with a mocking lilt.
Leila gripped the handlebars tightly to suppress the urge to flee right then and there. But she couldn’t do anything about the heat blooming inside her, which made her stomach twist. Her cheeks were surely flushing bright red again. She didn’t want to look ridiculous.
“Why not just let it down?”
“I’d like to, but they said it wouldn’t look like a teacher.”
“Who?”
“The headmistress.”
Meeting his gaze made her face feel hotter and hotter, so Leila finally turned her head away from the duke.
“She said that if I look too young, it undermines a teacher’s authority, so I shouldn’t wear my hair like a student.”
The silence that followed would only make things more awkward, so Leila hesitantly continued. She heard the duke’s light laugh, like a breeze brushing past, but she didn’t turn back. Now even her ears were burning. She must look like a complete fool.
“That clumsily pinned-up hair is supposed to give you authority as a teacher……”
Mathias gazed down at the petite woman walking along with precise steps, his eyes still lingering with amusement. Her expression was prim, as if her pride had been wounded, and he found it rather entertaining.
“I’ve been practicing a lot, so it’ll get better soon.”
She wouldn’t back down even if it killed her.
Leila’s retort drew another chuckle from Mathias.
“Hmm. Will it? I wonder.”
“I think it will. If it doesn’t improve, I’ll cut it short.”
“Cut it?”
The amusement faded from Mathias’s eyes, narrowing them. Thinking it was just bold talk, he was surprised to see Leila nod quite seriously.
“Yes. It would look much more mature then, and……”
“Don’t cut it.”
Mathias commanded calmly. Bewildered by the odd statement, Leila looked back at him.
“Surely you don’t think I need your permission even to grow or cut my hair?”
“It’s pretty, your hair.”
She’d snapped at him indignantly, but his response was far too nonchalant. More than that…… it was an absurd reply.
Leila stared at the duke in disbelief, doubting her own ears, but he simply gazed back at her with an expression as if nothing were amiss.
“Like wings.”
The duke’s voice was no different from when he’d hurled insults and wounded her before.
Come to think of it, even in those moments when he spat venomous words, his voice had always been consistently soft. Realizing that afresh brought back memories of that day. The summer day she’d first seen Duke Herhardt, the terrifying moment when she’d nearly been shot, and that voice she’d heard so clearly even then. Low and soft, just as soft as this.
The image of her younger self scrambling down from the tree and running toward Uncle Bill’s cottage flashed vividly from the recesses of her memory.
‘There’s someone in that forest! A tall man!’
The words she’d gasped out amid ragged breaths.
‘His hair was black, and his eyes were bright blue, and his voice was just like a waterfowl feather.’
At that moment, waterfowl feathers naturally came to mind. The soft feathers she’d gathered as treasures while playing by the sparkling Shulter River—they’d shimmered so prettily.
Leila hurriedly averted her eyes from the duke. It would be better if he wounded her with cruel words instead. Then he’d be the frightening, uncomfortable, loathsome man she knew as Duke Herhardt.
But no matter how long she waited, the familiar, expected barbs didn’t come. Staring off toward the path where leaves were falling one by one, the duke simply kept walking. That strange remark from moments ago felt like her own delusion or hallucination.
Leila gently touched a lock of hair that had fallen over her shoulder, then shook her head vigorously, furrowing her brow. The motion made her hands slip on the handlebars, and the bicycle wobbled, losing balance before toppling over. Leila tried too late to right it and ended up falling with the bike.
The crash of the bicycle against the ground and Leila’s scream echoed down the quiet path.
Mathias looked down at the ridiculous scene with a faint frown. Seeing Leila flailing alone before tumbling and getting pinned under the bicycle was so absurd that a soft chuckle escaped him.
“You’re always tripping over yourself.”
The duke’s laughter made Leila bite her lip in humiliation. But in a way, it relieved her. She hoped he’d hurry up, mock her, torment her, and leave. She waited silently, wishing for it desperately.
But the duke quietly righted the bicycle. He picked up her bag, which had flown far away, then returned to kneel in front of her.
“……It’s my responsibility. I’ll do it.”
As Mathias reached for the scattered items, Leila snatched the bag away in panic. His brows narrowed at her blatant aversion.
“I’ll…… I’ll do it.”
Mumbling with downcast eyes, Leila began gathering her things. He hadn’t done anything to scare her, yet her voice trembled, and even her hands shook.
A flicker of irritation rose in him, but Mathias decided to watch silently. Seeing her flushed cheeks and the nape of her neck, he wondered if she was just shy. If so, that wasn’t bad at all.
Mathias stood up and positioned himself in front of Leila. Under his long shadow, she hurriedly collected her spilled belongings. She was even picking up pebbles and fallen leaves from the path—it seemed she was completely out of it—and that sight washed away his displeasure entirely.
Once she’d packed her bag, Leila shot to her feet and faced Mathias. She seemed to have completely forgotten the dirt on her clothes and hands.
“I know it’s rude, but, Your Grace……”
Flustered, Leila glanced back and forth between the estate gate in the distance and Mathias’s face.
“If it’s impolite for me to go ahead of you, I’ll wait here until you return first.”
She didn’t want to walk with him anymore. Even as she voiced that impertinent thought, her eyes darted with anxiety and unease.
Her attitude was grating, but Mathias readily agreed. He knew as well as she did that he couldn’t walk with her all the way to that gate beyond.
“Go on.”
Surprised by his permission, Leila blinked.
“Me first?”
Instead of answering, Mathias jerked his chin. Only then did relief wash over her face as she bowed her head.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Her overly polite demeanor felt almost insulting.
Leila scurried past him, glancing back before mounting her bicycle. Even after he’d granted her this favor, her eyes held suspicion. She tilted her head slightly, frowned, tilted it again, and only then pedaled away.
Maybe I should have made her cry after all.
The belated regret came, but Mathias resumed his steps with a not-unpleasant expression. That was when a glinting pen caught his eye.
He elegantly picked up the pen from the woman who was always tripping and always losing her things. Leila was still close enough that he could call her name and she’d hear, but he had no desire to.
Mathias twirled the slender pen between his long fingers as he walked at a more leisurely pace. Leila, pedaling diligently, soon vanished beyond Arbis’s gates.
“That bird’s come back again.”
Mark Evers spoke with a laugh in his voice. Without even turning to look out the window, Mathias understood. Phoebe. The pigeon far gentler and smarter than its owner—it was time for her visit.
Leaning back in the armchair by the fireplace, Mathias signed the last document, wrapping up the day’s work. Once the attendant took it and left, he was alone in the drawing room.
Mathias capped his fountain pen and gazed out the window. As always, Phoebe was perched on the railing, pecking away at her feed.
Shifting his gaze from the bird to the slim pen in his hand, Mathias noted the gold-embossed name on the cap.
“Leila Llewellyn.”
It looked new, and it didn’t seem like something she’d bought herself, so it was probably a gift from the gardener.
Mathias hoped so. If it was Bill Leamer’s gift, he’d go to any lengths to get it back.
She’s probably noticed by now.
Lost in thought as he stared at the pen, Mathias uncapped it again. It wouldn’t be bad to play the gentleman for the woman who’d praised him as the epitome of one. And it was just the right time for that messenger pigeon to earn its keep.
Mathias folded a note with a brief line written on it and stepped out onto the balcony. The pigeon docilely held still as he tied the letter to its leg. Thinking of its owner frantically pedaling away brought a faint smile to his lips.
After securing the letter firmly, Mathias released the bird into the sky. The pigeon flew off vigorously toward the cottage.
Phoebe returned with the night.
Leila, who had been sitting blankly staring at her empty desk, jumped at the pecking sound at the windowpane and turned her head.
“Phoebe!”
Clutching her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Leila hurried to her feet. When she opened the window, a now quite chilly breeze blew in.
“You must be hungry. Just a moment…… Huh?”
Leila’s eyes widened at the letter tied to Phoebe’s leg. She rubbed her eyes, thinking she’d seen wrong, but it was really there. Nothing like this had happened since Kyle left—not once, and it couldn’t happen.
“……Kyle?”
She knew it couldn’t be, but she whispered the name unconsciously.
Staring dazedly at Phoebe, Leila untied the letter with trembling hands. As she read the short line, the emotions on her face shifted rapidly from bewilderment to shock.
She gasped aloud, instinctively dropping the letter and stumbling backward. The fluttering paper drifted lightly to the floor in front of the window.
Blinking rapidly at the letter, Leila took a step back, then another. When she bumped into the wardrobe, reality finally sank in.
“No way.”
Muttering in a shaky voice, Leila frantically rummaged through her bag. But no matter how hard she searched, the pen was gone. The pebbles and leaves she didn’t even remember picking up only added to her bewilderment.
Unable to deny reality any longer, Leila crept back to the window. Her hand, as she picked up the letter, was now pale as moonlight.
Where might your pen be, Leila?
Reading the note Phoebe had brought once more, Leila clutched her head with a sigh.
No way.
She muttered it over and over, but nothing changed.
Coo coo coo.
In the white moonlight of the autumn night, the duke’s well-fed Phoebe cooed calmly.
