Chapter 9
9
That Lowly and Beautiful Child
“Is that girl supposed to be her? The orphan the gardener’s raising?”
A furrow formed on Countess Brandt’s brow as she gazed out at the garden beyond the window. A young lady wearing glasses was helping the gardener tidy up the rose bed.
“Yes, Mother. That’s Leila.”
Claudine replied nonchalantly. The movements of her needle in her embroidery were just as deft as before.
While Countess Brandt paced by the window, Claudine calmly continued her work. Vibrant roses bloomed in splendid array from her fingertips.
“She’s a pretty girl, isn’t she? She seems to be getting more beautiful as she grows.”
“Doesn’t that bother you at all?”
“I know what you’re worried about, Mother.”
Claudine set down her embroidery hoop with a satisfied smile. Countess Brandt’s eyes widened in surprise at her daughter’s anxious expression.
The frail Countess Brandt had suffered repeated miscarriages before finally giving birth to a single healthy daughter. That child was the Brandts’ only daughter, Claudine.
Tormented by an inferiority complex over her failure to produce an heir, the countess had lived in constant anxiety, fearing her husband’s love might fade. Fortunately, the count himself had no sons from his mistresses either, but that didn’t put her mind at ease. After all, a young and beautiful woman could appear at any moment to bear him a son and steal his love away.
Claudine pitied her mother for it. And in equal measure to that pity, she found her exhausting.
“But I don’t want to get caught up in that sort of thing.”
Claudine’s words carried a solemn weight, like a declaration. The countess let out a sigh as if she couldn’t believe it.
“You’re still too young to understand men. Claudine, if I were you…”
“You mean I should clear every pretty girl from Duke Herhardt’s sight?”
Claudine let out an exaggerated sigh and laughed.
“As you say, Mother, I’m still young and don’t know much about men. But I do know that even the most renowned men usually have one or two mistresses.”
“Good heavens, Claudine!”
“Of course I hope nothing like that happens, but if it does, it wouldn’t be anything new.”
Claudine shrugged lightly.
The moment she’d run into Leila by chance, even the usually composed Claudine had been quite startled. It was natural for a pretty girl to grow into a beautiful woman, but Leila’s transformation after so long exceeded expectations.
With her petite frame and delicate, beautiful features typical of Robita women, the girl almost looked like a fairy. The enigmatic green eyes and her transparently white, clear skin created that ethereal aura.
That was why she’d suddenly suggested they go together. She was curious. What reaction would Duke Herhardt have to a woman like that right in front of him? And he had responded exactly as Claudine had anticipated: with just the right mix of interest and indifference, perfect dignity and restraint. That was more than enough.
“But Claudine, there’s no good in keeping a girl like that near Matthias.”
Countess Brandt still looked uneasy.
“What if I talk to the Herhardts about it?”
“Mother.”
Claudine’s voice lowered.
She’d vowed it over and over, watching her mother—who had everything yet cried endlessly over love—refuse to live miserably like that. It was also the reason Claudine had decided on her engagement to Matthias.
Matthias von Herhardt was a noble, wealthy, and handsome man. To expect such a man to devote himself solely to a political marriage for life? It was more realistic to believe in a fairy tale happy ending.
He might very well succumb to desire for a beautiful woman someday. Like her father. Like so many other men. But a man who recognized a mistress as a mistress was generally harmless. The trouble came from men who couldn’t. And the Matthias Claudine knew was definitely the former.
Did she love him?
Claudine tilted her head, then simply smiled.
Who knew? Maybe yes, maybe no—but it wasn’t a particularly important question. She knew Matthias felt the same.
What mattered was that Duke Herhardt, faithful to every role given to him, would perfectly fulfill the roles of husband and father as well. That was what Claudine wanted. A marriage that preserved her dignity and pride.
“Even if Duke Herhardt takes an interest in that lowly and beautiful child, what of it?”
Countess Brandt gasped at Claudine’s calm words.
“Good Lord, Claudine! What on earth are you saying?”
“She’d just be a mistress, after all.”
Claudine even let out a small laugh.
“She might actually be more convenient that way. A woman I could keep right in the palm of my hand and tame, who could never dare threaten my position.”
“My dear Claudine… You… You truly don’t understand love.”
Countess Brandt’s sigh deepened as she looked at her daughter.
Gazing into her mother’s beautiful blue eyes—eyes that had never been free of tears because of that very love—Claudine turned away with a strange smile.
Through the window, she could see Leila. The girl had stood up and was pounding her waist with her fists, laughing.
When Kyle arrived, the cottage was empty. Leila and old man Bill must have gone to the garden together. He considered going to find them but changed his mind and sat in a chair on the porch instead.
Thinking of Leila’s face with her glasses made him grin. The future Mrs. Etman was beautiful even with glasses. It had felt a bit awkward and unfamiliar at first, but now just picturing her face made his heart race.
Feeling his face heat up again, Kyle cleared his throat needlessly. Around that time, Leila and Bill returned to the cottage.
“What the heck is that hat?”
Kyle’s brows furrowed at the tacky hat covering Leila’s pretty face.
“Wow, it’s seriously countryside chic. You didn’t actually pay money for that, did you?”
When he teased her again mischievously, Leila and Bill both turned fierce glares on him.
“Uncle Bill bought it for me!”
Leila shouted, her face scrunched up. Bill responded by picking up the shovel he’d brought on the cart.
“Actually, it’s pretty on second look. Wow, it’s pretty! Uncle Bill has the best taste!”
Startled, Kyle hurriedly changed his tune.
“Don’t tease her. It’s really precious to me.”
Leila, still looking displeased, took off the offending hat. It was a somewhat flashy straw hat adorned lavishly with ribbons and flowers.
While Bill sorted out the cart, Leila prepared lunch. The hat in question sat carefully placed at the end of the table. Kyle sat in front of it, stealing glances at Leila.
“Leila. Are you mad?”
“Yeah.”
Leila slammed down Kyle’s plate with force.
She’s still feeding me, though.
Kyle felt relieved first.
“Sorry. Would I have done that if I’d known?”
“Dunno.”
“But why a hat all of a sudden?”
“I asked him for it.”
“You? You know how to beg someone to buy you something?”
Kyle asked in surprise. The Leila he knew was the type who never asked anyone for anything.
“She was really upset about the glasses.”
Leila’s voice grew quieter.
“Upset that her eyesight got worse?”
“No. It’s that I saved up money on my own and bought expensive glasses without saying anything.”
Leila sat across from Kyle once the table was set.
When Leila had shown up at the cottage wearing her glasses, Uncle Bill had looked stunned, like he’d been smacked on the back of the head. After hearing the story of how she’d gotten them fitted, his expression turned icy cold. It was the first time Leila had seen him that angry.
‘Leila, do you not trust me that much?’
His eyes had looked so sad as he sighed the question that Leila’s breath caught in her throat.
She’d tried explaining that it wasn’t like that, that she felt ashamed for being such a burden, that she could handle something like this on her own—but Bill’s eyes only grew sadder with every word.
Things between Bill and Leila had been a bit awkward ever since.
Bill sulked with his mouth firmly shut, while Leila fretted, not knowing what to do. Then she’d found her solution in the hat.
‘Uncle, please buy me just one hat.’
A few days ago at the dinner table, Leila had blurted it out.
‘A really pretty one would be great.’
When she explained in a more serious tone, Uncle Bill had chuckled.
The next evening, after going into town to buy pruning shears, he came back with a straw hat covered in flowers and ribbons.
‘I got it from Lind’s, so if you don’t like it, take it back and exchange it.’
Bill added indifferently as he handed it over.
‘You picked it out yourself?’
‘Yeah, something like that.’
“It’s so pretty.”
Leila had beamed and put it on.
Uncle Bill had bought her many things, but usually he’d ask Madam Mona to help or take Leila to the shop himself to pick out what she needed. Leila knew all too well how big a deal it must have been for him to personally choose a woman’s hat. And how much love that showed.
To Bill Leamer, flowers were the prettiest thing in the world. So a hat with lots of flowers was the prettiest hat. Once you understood that, it was undoubtedly the prettiest and most lovable hat in the world.
“Hey! You should’ve said something sooner.”
Embarrassment crossed Kyle’s face as he listened intently.
“I feel like such trash for making fun of that gift!”
“When did you give me a chance to? You teased me the second you saw it.”
“Okay, but…”
“You impudent freeloader. Eating up my house’s food again. Someday I’ll make sure to bill Professor Etman for your meals!”
Bill burst through the door, bellowing loudly. But his face was warm and playful, nothing like his gruff words.
Seeing the hat on the table, he grinned sheepishly. Leila’s face lit up with such affection as she smiled at him that Kyle nearly felt a pathetic twinge of jealousy.
Any man who loved Leila Llewellyn had no choice but to accept second place. Leila’s number one would be Uncle Bill forever.
Kyle comforted himself and grabbed his fork. He didn’t care about Uncle Bill’s grumbling. Leila’s cooking was worth putting up with it.
After lunch, once Uncle Bill headed back to work, only Kyle and Leila remained in the cottage.
As always, Leila sat on the porch reading a book, while Kyle pretended to read and watched her. Except for the occasional biscuit she’d pick up, she was astonishingly focused on her book.
I shouldn’t have lent her that novel.
He felt a pang of regret but still chuckled.
Leila had no idea. How pretty her face was when she read so intently. How lovable when she nibbled on a biscuit.
Should I tell her today?
Kyle set down the book he’d already finished long ago and looked at her with a serious expression.
He’d thought he could wait a little longer, but now he wasn’t so sure.
Just brushing her fingertips made his heart pound like it might burst. Heat flooded his body, and sometimes he had dreams that left him with guilt.
But what tormented Kyle even more was his anxiety. The fear—almost terror—that some man might suddenly appear one day and take Leila away.
So maybe it would be better to just confess recklessly?
The moment impulse seized him and he opened his mouth to speak, the slow sound of hoofbeats approached. Turning his head, he saw Duke Herhardt in riding attire atop his horse. Leila, who’d been about to bite into a biscuit, startled and looked up.
The duke reined in his horse in front of the porch railing.
His gaze skimmed briefly over Kyle before stopping on Leila’s face, flushed with embarrassment.
