Translator: Nox

Chapter 50

50

For My Precious Sister

Arbis was abuzz with the dinner party attended by the Herhardt family’s relatives.

Leila, returning from work, walked along the edge of the entrance road—crowded with far more carriages and automobiles than usual—pulling her bicycle. Uncle Bill had been run off his feet these past few days preparing flowers to decorate the mansion. With all the garden blooms wilting in this season, they had mobilized flowers grown in the greenhouse, procuring any unavailable varieties from flower shops in the city.

Leila had helped with the task. It had kept her so busy that she was endlessly grateful; busyness gave her the perfect excuse to forget about the lost pen and the duke’s unanswered letter. But the work was now done, and Leila had to return to Arbis.

The closer she got to the mansion entrance, the slower her steps became.

Fortunately, the duke hadn’t brought it up again. Perhaps there simply hadn’t been a chance. The Duke of Herhardt had been occupied for days himself, and Phoebe—who had secretly relayed messages to him—was now confined to the backyard birdcage.

“Unbelievable, really.”

Leila muttered the words she must have repeated at least a hundred times since the night Phoebe had brought the duke’s letter.

How on earth had he thought to tame Phoebe and use her as his own messenger pigeon?

Leila Llewellyn hadn’t lived a long life, nor had she met many people, but within the scope of her experience, Duke Matthias von Herhardt was the strangest, most unfathomable man.

And why did he keep taking other people’s things?

“Isn’t this kleptomania by now?”

Frowning, Leila kicked at an innocent stone and grumbled.

She wanted to find the pen just as badly as she didn’t want to see the duke. She couldn’t understand why she was avoiding him—who wasn’t being as ruthless as before—even more desperately than ever, but that was exactly how her heart felt.

Brushing away her turmoil with a sigh, Leila was just about to slip through the mansion’s side entrance when a loud horn blared. Startled, she whipped around and found herself face-to-face with a Brandt family automobile.

She approached with stiff steps, and the rear window rolled down.

“It’s been a while, Leila.”

That familiar face—Lady Claudine Brandt—greeted her with a smile.

“Have you been well?”

Claudine quickly scanned Leila from head to toe, her smile blooming even brighter.

Leila unconsciously held her breath. The sensation of being a child caught after committing some grave misdeed was all too familiar. It was the exact same feeling she’d had in front of Claudine at the end of last summer, on the day of Duke Herhardt and Lady Brandt’s engagement ceremony. The memory of her first kiss—stolen by Claudine’s fiancé—made Leila feel utterly small and pathetic.

In Claudine’s gaze, the duke’s soft voice and laughter revived, along with the feel of his large, hot hands, pulling Leila right back to that day, that moment.

Clasping her cold, rigid hands together, Leila offered her usual polite greeting.

“Hello, Miss Claudine.”

The Herhardt family’s flawless dinner party came as no surprise to anyone. Even the two mistresses of the hosting ducal house were unimpressed. In the Berg Empire, Herhardt was synonymous with perfection. If the Herhardt dinner party had been subpar, that would have sparked everyone’s rapt fascination.

“May we take a short stroll through the greenhouse?”

Once they had moved to the drawing room for conversation, Claudine asked permission with careful courtesy. Flanking her were the two men included in her “we”—her fiancé and her cousin.

“Of course. Go ahead.”

Elise von Herhardt permitted it readily.

“Young people need their time together.”

The surrounding noblewomen tittered in response to her subtle tone.

Leaving the women behind to gossip about young lovers, Claudine departed the drawing room, accompanied by Matthias and Riet.

“By the way, Duke Herhardt, Lady Norma gave her permission today for me to expand this greenhouse once I become the duchess.”

Claudine’s bright voice filtered into the quiet night of the greenhouse.

“I see.”

A faint smile touched Matthias’s lips.

“What is Your Grace’s will?”

“As you wish, my lady.”

It was exactly the response she’d expected, but Claudine nodded with a pleased expression.

“You can look forward to it. I truly love this greenhouse—Arbis’s Paradise—and I’m confident I can tend it well.”

Claudine walked lightly along the greenhouse path, escorted by her fiancé Matthias, though most of the conversation flowed between her and Riet. It had always been that way.

“Master.”

Just as Claudine began chattering about the tropical plants she planned to plant in the expanded greenhouse, a servant approached Matthias. Someone wished to discuss business with him.

“Go ahead.”

Claudine released her fiancé’s arm with a sweet smile.

“I’ll stroll with Cousin Riet.”

“To Lady Brandt, I’m always just standing in for Duke Herhardt.”

Grumbling though she was, Riet willingly offered Claudine her arm.

Once Matthias left with the servant, the glass greenhouse—echoing with the clear spray of the fountain—held only Claudine and Riet.

They resumed their interrupted conversation, enjoying a leisurely walk. Claudine’s plans for the greenhouse expansion were remarkably detailed. She seemed to have it all vividly mapped out in her mind: which plants to import, how to landscape them.

“Your heart is already that of the Duchess of Herhardt? Sometimes it seems your love for Arbis outshines your love for your fiancé.”

Riet, who had been listening attentively, grinned and teased. Claudine nodded without a hint of embarrassment.

“Either way, it’s love for Herhardt.”

“You two are something else.”

Riet chuckled as if conceding defeat.

“Matthias has always been that way, but are you really all right with this?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Cousin.”

“Duke Herhardt will never love you. Not in the past, not now, not in the future.”

“What prestigious noble marries for love?”

“It could happen. Say, if Lady Brandt decided to become the Marquise Lindman or something.”

Riet’s expression and tone were as nonchalant and lighthearted as ever. Claudine responded with her usual smile.

“Cousin, I’ve been coming to Arbis with Mother for ten years now.”

Claudine turned to face her, and Riet met her gaze.

“Do you know what that means?”

“That for the past ten years, among this empire’s nobles, Lady Brandt has been as good as the Duchess of Herhardt.”

“Exactly. That’s why I like you, Cousin Riet.”

Claudine let out a small laugh and placed her hand on Riet’s arm again. Riet calmly escorted her cousin sister. The subtle tension between them soon dissolved into casual chatter and laughter.

“Once it’s expanded, I want to raise birds of paradise, too.”

Examining the vibrant pet birds, Claudine changed the subject.

“That’ll make for one heck of a bird-loving ducal couple.”

Riet tossed out an uncharacteristically blatant jab.

“Cousin.”

“That bird’s still around, you know? The small, pretty one in His Grace’s bedroom.”

“I don’t mind. Even Duke Herhardt deserves some little pleasure.”

“I hope it stays just that—a little pleasure.”

“It’s not worth praying over. No matter how much he adores it, he can’t put a bird in the duchess’s seat, can he, Cousin?”

“True enough.”

This time, even Riet couldn’t argue. No matter how much Matthias doted on that canary, it was just a bird.

“By the way, how long do canaries live? I wonder if it’ll last.”

Claudine tilted her head as they turned back.

“I hope that noisy thing doesn’t live too long.”

“Weren’t you just respecting His Grace’s little pleasure?”

“Well, yes, but if that bird’s gone, another one will take its place as Duke Herhardt’s amusement.”

“Sometimes, Claudine, I really want to sincerely bless you and Matthias.”

Gazing at Claudine’s face, Riet laughed a little hollowly.

“You two are a terrifyingly perfect match.”

Riet suddenly felt a faint pity for the duke’s little bird. A sense of kinship, perhaps, as a pathetic creature hovering around a terrifyingly perfect pair.

Claudine smiled guilelessly. Staring at that cruel, beautiful face, Riet blurted out an impulsive remark.

“For my precious cousin sister, maybe I should try getting friendly with that bird.”

“Did you have that kind of hobby, Cousin?”

“Not my taste, but it is pretty.”

“It won’t be easy.”

Claudine laughed delightedly now, as if genuinely amused.

“That bird’s pride is fit for a princess, appearances notwithstanding.”

“Lady Brandt, do you think I’m that much of a pushover?”

“Of course not. I was just saying. Though I am curious if you can really befriend that haughty little thing.”

Claudine’s face, no longer smiling, was as cold as the moonlit glass surface.

“If you succeed, I’ll gladly send a congratulatory gift.”

“What kind?”

“Gratitude and love, perhaps?”

Claudine’s grip tightened on Riet’s arm. With the feigned smile gone, the gaze they exchanged deepened.

“Not bad.”

As Riet gave her low reply, the greenhouse door opened again.

They slowly approached the returning Duke Herhardt.

No messenger pigeon. No Leila. It had been nearly a week since he’d sent the letter, but nothing had changed.

Matthias looked up at the sky where the white dove had flown and let out a laugh. The scoff held no warmth whatsoever—verging on outright rage.

“You may withdraw now.”

At the door leading to the balcony, Matthias curtly ordered the waiting servant.

“Then we’ll have the car ready in front of the annexe at departure time.”

Mark Evers bowed politely and left with the other servants.

Alone on the balcony, Matthias gazed at the river, its waters darkening, for a long while. At first, he could chalk it up to her flustering in panic or being tied up helping the gardener with dinner preparations. But not anymore.

Checking his cufflinks for the time, Matthias strode across the balcony. He still had time before his afternoon appointment. It being the weekend, Leila Llewellyn was probably at the cottage.

That was the conclusion he drew—and he followed it without hesitation. Passing the riverbank, he entered the forest path carpeted with fallen leaves, his strides widening.

By the time his regret deepened to a shade darker than the autumn leaves—I should have made her cry, hurt her—Matthias had found Leila Llewellyn. In the cottage yard, she was hanging laundry, utterly serene and leisurely in a way that mocked his week of waiting.

Matthias halted, watching the woman. Leila focused intently on spreading the sheet, tugging it this way and that with grunts of effort until she finally got it taut. Seeing her satisfied smile made him even more exasperated.

Look at you.

The thought bubbled up again—one he’d been having more and more lately. Infuriatingly cheeky and brazen, yet somehow entertaining. Which only annoyed him with himself.

The moment Matthias took a step forward, Leila turned her head. Spotting him, she froze as stiff as the clothesline beside her. It was almost cute—until he revised that opinion.

Whirling around, Leila bolted. Matthias didn’t realize she was fleeing him until she vanished across the yard.

“Ha…….”

Her ghost-like flight, her absurd belief that she could escape him—it was all ridiculous.

But judgment could wait. Swallowing a hollow laugh, Matthias gave chase. Leila ran away from the Schulter River, toward the harvested fields and stream.

The distance between them closed rapidly. His pace quickened relentlessly, while Leila, glancing back in terror, kept stumbling.

In the end, Matthias caught her beneath a willow by the stream. Grabbing her shoulder, he pinned the wriggling little woman firmly between the tree trunk and his body. His hand wound into her disheveled hair with hot strength.

Gazing down at Leila’s eyes, brimming as if she’d cry, Matthias smiled.

“Where are you going, Leila?”