Chapter 77
77
How pitiful.
Leila couldn’t quite grasp what she had just heard.
She had clearly listened carefully, but the words merely swirled chaotically in her mind without forming any clear meaning. As if piercing right through her heart, Elise von Herhardt issued the command once more.
“For the time being, you will assist Claudine. I’ll make sure you’re compensated generously.”
“But, Madam, I’ve never done work like this…….”
“Hasn’t being Claudine’s companion been something you’ve done since childhood? It should be familiar to you. There won’t be anything too demanding beyond that. You’ll just need to help with the tasks her maid finds difficult.”
She furrowed her brow, revealing her displeasure.
“I trust you won’t refuse. When Claudine showed such mercy to Bill Lemmer, who ruined the greenhouse she loved so dearly, surely you can offer her this small favor?”
Her tone as she uttered Bill Lemmer’s name carried unmasked resentment. Ah, that gardener. The murmurs of the other noble ladies, whispering in lowered voices, followed her cold command.
“Don’t feel too burdened, Leila.”
From a step away, where she had been observing the situation, Claudine added a gentle word.
“I won’t bother you too much. Just help with simple things, and you can spend the rest of your time doing your duties around the estate.”
Claudine watched Leila’s face grow pale. At least the girl wasn’t cunning or brazen—at that point, she deserved fairly high marks.
“I’m asking you like this, Leila. What do you say? It’ll be fine, won’t it?”
Claudine skillfully cornered Leila toward the only possible answer.
Hey, Claudine!
Riet, seated across from her, mouthed her name with her lips. It was a gesture of remonstration, but Claudine didn’t back down.
It was preparation for the worst-case scenario, so to speak.
If the girl didn’t disappear on her own, Claudine would have no choice but to live with her as her husband’s mistress. In that case, a proper order would be necessary. As long as Leila didn’t harbor undue ambitions and behaved according to her station, Claudine had no intention of clashing with the mistress.
“Child, isn’t Claudine asking you herself?”
One of the watching noble ladies scolded Leila in a displeased tone. Leila looked at Claudine with a lost, helpless expression, like a child adrift. Her eyes pleaded desperately for her to retract the order.
I wonder if those clear, dewy eyes had captivated that heartless man’s heart.
Claudine observed Leila with scholarly curiosity. The answer was already set, so there was no need to rush. And soon enough, Leila gave exactly that answer, laced with resignation.
“……Yes, Miss.”
Leila bowed her head and clasped her hands tightly together.
“Thank you.”
Claudine nodded with a bright smile.
“You’re such a good girl, Leila.”
For the four days Mathias stayed in Ratz, his schedule was packed without a moment’s rest.
While most of the Herhardt family’s businesses had their headquarters in Kalsvar, the capital city of Ratz held no small share as well. From the standpoint of managing connections in the imperial court, the political sphere, and the capital’s social circles, Ratz was as vital as the family’s own territory.
Thus, previous generations of Herhardt Dukes had spent half the year in their territory and the other half in the capital, growing the family from within and without. After marriage and producing an heir, Mathias would live the same way.
So, what if he left that woman, Leila, here?
In the study, Mathias gazed absently at the ceiling after a group of visitors had departed, lost in thought.
The Herhardt family’s residence in Ratz had served for generations as the dwelling of the family head—and also as the abode for his mistresses. His father’s longest and most cherished mistress had lived here as well.
Whenever he visited the capital to see his father, he would naturally encounter her, and Mathias—as well as his mother—accepted it as a matter of course. His father showed respect to his wife and children by ensuring his mistress’s affairs never crossed into Arbis. That was the order of the Herhardts as Mathias knew it.
Yes. That would be best.
If he couldn’t discard what he possessed—if this desire’s expiration date stretched longer than expected—then following that order was right. Leaving Leila in Arbis after marriage made no sense.
But that woman, would she…….
The image of Leila Llewellyn’s stubborn gaze made Mathias unconsciously narrow his eyes.
She didn’t seem the type to meekly accept life as a mistress. Above all, there was Bill Lemmer, whom she cherished like her own life. She’d sooner bite off her tongue than reveal to him that she was the Duke’s mistress.
“Leila.”
Murmuring that name like sweet poison, Mathias slowly ran a hand over his face.
Leila’s foolish temperament, which he had quite liked, now felt unbearably frustrating and irritating once more. He had so much to offer a mistress, yet his beautiful would-be mistress refused to accept a single thing.
Even gripped tightly in his fist, she didn’t feel wholly his. To possess her and still yearn—this damned feeling.
Lost in thought as he touched his jaw, Mathias let out a long sigh without reaching any conclusion. In that moment, he realized it. He was thinking of Leila out of habit. Even knowing it would end in this feeling, he thought of that irritating woman at every turn.
“Master, Colonel Perel has arrived.”
Mark Evers entered with a polite knock and announced the new guest. With a short nod, Mathias rose and straightened his attire. His steps as he left the study were firm and elegant.
“We just received a response from the Natural History Museum regarding our inquiry.”
Halfway down the corridor leading to the reception room where the guest awaited, Mark Evers, following behind, reported. Mathias paused briefly, and Mark naturally stopped as well.
“They informed us that the craftsman who made the new crystal ornament bird decorations for the museum’s passageway ceiling last spring was a merchant named Croken, who supplies jewels to the imperial family. Should we order the same ones for the museum?”
“Do that.”
Mathias nodded casually and took a step, but turned back before even two paces.
“Ah. Make the wings yellow.”
“Pardon?”
“That ornament—order it as a bird with yellow wings.”
With that instruction, Mathias quickened his stride across the corridor.
The vivid image came to mind: Leila running toward the museum passageway adorned with colorful crystal bird ornaments, marveling like a child. Standing on tiptoe to reach for a bird, her bright smile, and the feeling of sweeping her up into his arms as he followed—everything.
If he gave her that, would she smile like she did that day?
As he passed the Natural History Museum in Ratz, the thought had struck Mathias. That was the sole reason he gave the order. Last late spring, to track down and commission ornaments just like those decorating the museum’s passageway. It was unlike him.
Come to think of it, that day, as they toured the museum, Leila had seemed so exhilarated and happy. Darting between specimens and fossils, eagerly observing, noting, and exclaiming in wonder.
If he enabled her to attend the university here in Ratz that she so desired, perhaps she would accept.
The thought occurred to Mathias just as he reached the reception room door.
It irked him that it was the same university as Kyle Etman’s, but there was no deep reason to dwell on it. Leila was already his woman.
With a much lighter heart, Mathias opened the reception room door. His face was that of the perfect Duke of Herhardt, all private emotions erased in an instant.
“Do you remember, Leila? This is where we first met.”
Claudine spoke as if reminiscing about a beautiful childhood memory.
Leila, seated rigidly across from her like a statue, lifted her trembling eyes and glanced around. Now that she thought about it, this was the very reception room where, in the summer she turned twelve, she had been dragged in as Lady Claudine Brandt’s plaything and then discarded.
“Yes, Miss.”
Leila replied politely, eyes cast down.
Claudine hadn’t lied when she said it wouldn’t be demanding. Aside from a few errands, there was hardly any physical labor. Leila’s role was to be the companion for the idle Lady Brandt—just as it had been in her childhood.
“It feels like just yesterday, yet so much time has already passed.”
Claudine sighed deeply with a wistful expression. That was when her injured maid appeared. It was time to change for the small afternoon tea party.
Leila closed the book she had only opened and followed Claudine. In the guest bedroom where she was staying, dresses and accessories selected by the maid were already laid out. Leila just had to help her put them on prettily. The maid had said it was something she could do with her eyes closed, but for Leila, unfamiliar with such garments and adornments, it was far from easy.
“Good heavens, Miss Llewellyn! That’s not it!”
The watching maid bustled over in a fuss. Leila’s cheeks flushed faintly as she fumbled with the dress’s intricate decorations.
“Don’t do that, Marie. You’re making Leila nervous.”
After scolding the maid, Claudine gave Leila a kind smile.
“Keep going, Leila. It’s fine.”
Seeing Claudine had no intention of calling another maid, Leila did her best to finish the task without mishap.
The dressing, which a skilled maid would have completed swiftly, took quite some time, but Claudine waited patiently without a single urging. Yet the result was a failure. No matter her efforts, Leila couldn’t perfectly array a noble lady in her full elegance.
Standing before the mirror, Claudine let out a small sigh and removed the hat Leila had placed on her. Then the gloves, the shawl, the necklace—one by one. Her leisurely movements only made them feel all the more stern.
Dressing herself anew, Claudine turned to Leila with an ambiguous smile. She was now incomparably more graceful and refined than before.
“How pitiful.”
Claudine gazed steadily at Leila with calm, sunken eyes. Overwhelmed by the same helplessness from her childhood that the look evoked, Leila’s body stiffened.
“You’re still just a child who knows nothing.”
With a voice striving not to betray disappointment or irritation, Claudine whispered softly, like a sigh.
