Translator: Nox

Chapter 80

80

Whatever You Want to Do

The maid began to sob. In the frigid drawing room where no one dared speak first, only her pitiful cries echoed loudly.

“Good heavens. A fake illness, of all things.”

Elise von Herhardt’s gaze upon the maid’s hands covering her face was laced with blatant contempt. The maid’s hand, now unwrapped from its bandages, bore only a shallow cut—nothing remotely severe enough to prevent her from working.

“What an insolent girl.”

Katarina von Herthart let out a disbelieving scoff, her eyes just as icy. Claudine sat silently among them, her lips pressed tightly together. Her hands rested rigidly on her lap.

“Please take another close look, Doctor.”

Mathias, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke, tilting his head toward Dr. Etman with a still-grave expression.

“Perhaps a bone is injured as well.”

“Your Grace, that’s……”

Dr. Etman trailed off in embarrassment. Everything had been laid bare the moment he unwrapped the bandages from the maid, who had been dragged in pale-faced.

“There is nothing but a minor cut. No other abnormalities.”

Sighs and murmurs erupted from around the room at Dr. Etman’s carefully cleared report. Even then, Claudine held her posture ramrod straight. Her eyes trembled faintly, but it was such a subtle quiver that only the closest scrutiny would detect it.

“But I was told she had injured her hand so badly she couldn’t do her work. Isn’t that right, Lady Brandt?”

Mathias looked at Claudine with a furrowed brow, as if he truly couldn’t comprehend. All eyes turned to her in unison.

“……Yes. I truly believed that was the case.”

“Then this maid deceived you, Lady Brandt.”

“I don’t want to believe it, but it seems so.”

Claudine met the maid’s eyes briefly before answering calmly.

Mathias rose from his chair and approached the maid, who was trembling and weeping. As if determined to take all the blame, she kept her lips clamped shut and simply cried. In that resolute display, Mathias discovered a new virtue in Claudine von Brandt: she knew how to manage her people well. It was a fine quality for a duchess.

“Deceived……”

A faint note of amusement colored Mathias’s voice. The maid flinched, lowering her hands from her face to look up at him with terrified eyes. Mathias met her tear-filled gaze without hesitation.

“You dared to deceive my woman.”

With each word, his voice grew lower and softer instead. The emotion in his steady gaze seemed closer to intrigue than anger.

“Please forgive Marie, Duke Herhardt. I’ll apologize on her behalf.”

Claudine finally stepped in. Countess Brandt, seated beside her, tried to restrain her, but Claudine shook off the hand and moved to her maid’s side, who looked on the verge of fainting.

“Marie must have been going through a hard time lately. It’s my fault for not considering my maid’s circumstances, even if she resorted to lying just to rest. Please forgive her for my sake.”

“To apologize for a maid who deceived her mistress—you’re most gracious, Lady Brandt.”

“She’s been with me for many years. Even though she committed this foolish act, I can’t cast someone out heartlessly over a single mistake.”

Pushed into a corner, Claudine grew bolder instead.

“I believe Duke Herhardt understands my feelings better than anyone. After all, you showed mercy to that gardener who caused such a major incident and allowed him to remain here in Arbis.”

Claudine’s gaze upon Mathias was cool and piercing. In a game where composure and brazenness won out, she was confident she would never lose. Even if he knew everything, that man would never reveal a thing.

After staring at Claudine for a moment, Mathias nodded with a quiet smile.

“So even you, Lady Brandt—who once questioned my decision not to dismiss the gardener—now understand my reasoning.”

Caught off guard by the unexpected retort, Claudine drew in a silent breath.

“To show such broad understanding and tolerance—truly admirable. Seeing such an exemplary lady makes me want to forgive the maid for her foolish deed.”

Claudine’s cheeks began to flush gradually at Mathias’s tone, as if he were praising a good child.

“But Lady Brandt, if she seeks forgiveness for such an outrageous act, shouldn’t this maid atone for it as well?”

“I…… I’ll go meet Leila tomorrow with Marie.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s the one who suffered the most from my maid’s lie.”

Despite mustering all her strength to steady herself, Claudine crumbled before the humiliation. Her face was now burning bright red.

“Ah. I see.”

Mathias nodded lightly, his eyes narrowing.

“But isn’t it rather absurd for you to go with her? It would almost seem like it’s your fault.”

“Exactly, Claudine. It was just the maid’s foolish mistake—why are you the one going to apologize to that girl in person?”

Countess Brandt chimed in from where she watched. As Claudine’s agitation grew, Mathias became all the calmer.

“Leave the atonement to the maid who committed the wrong. Your dignity is my dignity as well.”

Before Mathias’s expression, which seemed almost consoling, Claudine felt a chill seep into her very bones. She suddenly felt like a fool for trying to go head-to-head with him. Absurdly, she was even relieved that this chillingly cold-blooded man’s attachment was to Leila Llewellyn, not her.

“……Yes, Duke Herhardt.”

With that single reply, Mathias expertly cornered Claudine. Even as he forced her submission, no joy or satisfaction crossed his face. Instead, he turned back to the maid and lowered his eyes to meet hers.

“Remember this clearly, Marie.”

As Mathias passed Claudine, his gaze halted on the maid’s ashen face.

“How great a mercy your mistress has bestowed upon you.”

The annexe lay shrouded in darkness by the riverbank, its lights extinguished. Mathias’s exhaled breath scattered white into the frozen night air.

Changing his mind about heading to the gardener’s cottage, Mathias strode up the annexe’s stairs. That foolish woman might not have lit a fire, after all.

The annexe fell silent again once the door creaked open and shut. No lamps burned, not even a single fireplace; a chill hung in the air. Though he was now certain Leila hadn’t come, Mathias still methodically surveyed the annexe. Just in case. He couldn’t shake that faint hope—or worry.

His eyes, calm as part of the shadows, scanned the room, which showed no signs of recent habitation. With each step, his fingers brushed the edge of the box deep in his coat pocket, and his lips grew drier bit by bit.

The cold seemed to have swallowed the entire annexe in the time he’d been away from Arbis. By the time he opened the bedroom door, he hoped Leila had defied orders with that stubborn pride of hers. The room was as dark and quiet as the rest, fulfilling his wish—or so he thought, just as relief washed over him and he turned to leave. His brows furrowed.

No way.

He swallowed a sigh of denial, but his eyes, adjusted to the dark, saw it clearly: a woman curled up in the wingchair by the unlit fireplace, like a young beast in its mother’s womb. Leila slept deeply, wrapped tightly in her coat, gloves, and scarf—but it was woefully insufficient against the cold.

Mathias unclenched his fisted hand and swept it over his face. She wielded that pointless stubbornness so well, yet was so compliant in moments like this. Swallowing dryly amid rising curses, he took a step forward, and Leila’s eyes fluttered open languidly. Her just-wakened face was innocent. Of course, anger, fear, and the thick resignation that followed soon stained that clear face like blotches.

“Given up on starving to death and decided to freeze instead?”

Mathias approached the fireplace and lit it. There was already wood stacked; all it needed was a spark.

“Or do you not even know how to light a fire?”

He stood with his back to the roaring flames, looking down at Leila. She glared up at him, still huddled tightly.

“You can tell, can’t you?”

“What?”

“The smoke from the chimney.”

With the firelight spreading, Leila’s face came into sharper view. Bloodless, as if she could slip into eternal sleep right then without it being strange.

“No smoke rising where there’s no master.”

“Who would come here in the middle of the night?”

“Even so, I hate it.”

Leila uncurled her arms from around her knees and slowly set her feet on the floor. Mathias’s lips twisted as he watched her slowly rub her gloved hands.

“Then shouldn’t you think about going back home?”

“You ordered me to wait here, Your Grace.”

“Since when have you ever obeyed my orders so obediently?”

“Because you’d come if I weren’t here.”

Contrary to her listless voice, her glare at Mathias held a sharp edge.

“I’d rather freeze to death than let you into our house.”

“Is that so? Then I’ll make sure to visit that cottage sometime.”

Mathias tossed more wood onto the fire to stoke the flames.

“You hate it that much? You’ll cry so prettily.”

“I really hate you. I loathe you.”

“Try harder, Leila. Same old words—boring.”

“Then good. I have no desire to entertain you, Your Grace.”

Seeing her fire back without yielding, it seemed she wouldn’t freeze after all.

With a chuckle, Mathias tossed his coat onto the bed bench. Leila startled and tried to stand, but he scooped her up far faster.

He wrapped his arms firmly around her struggling, ice-cold body and sank deeply into the chair she’d just vacated. Leila thrashed for a while, clinging to futile resistance, then suddenly went limp and still. Mathias’s hand stroking her hair grew languid.

“Please, just finish quickly today.”

Leila, resting her face quietly on his shoulder, whispered like a sigh. His fingers, toying with her loosely braided hair, stopped abruptly.

“What?”

His questioning voice was as cold as the room’s air.

“Whatever. Whatever you want to do.”

Leila lifted her head limply to look at him. Her eyes were those of an old woman worn down by worldly cares.

“No matter what I say, you’ll do whatever you want anyway…… So just get it over with quickly.”

The shadow of her trembling lashes fell over her reddened eyes. Staring into space, those eyes no longer looked at Mathias.

“I…… I just want to go home and rest.”