Chapter 19
Chapter 19: A Midnight Surprise
I folded my arms and declared,
“I’m not stepping out of this room until Your Grace gets into bed. Let the servants think what they will.”
“……!”
“Though if you comply, I’ll depart immediately.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Does that mean you want me to stay?”
“Stop twisting my words.”
“Then get into bed without delay.”
A smile tugged at my lips as I fixed him with an unwavering gaze.
“Why must you be so obstinate?”
“…….”
I sighed.
After a heavy exhale and a long pause, the Grand Duke relented at last, stretching out upon the bed.
Even reclining like that, he resembles a model in a photoshoot.
Suppressing a smile, I dragged a plush chair to his bedside.
“Your Grace, I’m not about to devour you. Loosen up a bit.”
He lay there rigid, like a patient awaiting surgery.
“For your information, I’m a swordsman of considerable prowess.”
Huh?
I cocked my head at his abrupt declaration. He breathed out and pressed on,
“Don’t attempt anything reckless.”
“……?”
“My reflexes might kick in, and I could injure you without meaning to.”
I couldn’t help it—laughter bubbled up at his grave tone.
“Are you fretting that I might assault you?”
“It wouldn’t shock me.”
The Grand Duke’s brow creased, his silence peculiar.
“I might be audacious, but I’m not daft enough to challenge the Empire’s Swordmaster.”
I chuckled, eyeing his awkward pose amid the crisp folds of his shirt.
“I happen to cherish my life.”
“Your behavior thus far suggests otherwise.”
His mutter struck me as endearingly petulant.
Wordlessly, I slipped my hand beneath the covers to grasp his sturdy one.
His throat bobbed as he flinched on instinct.
“Wh-what are you doing, holding my hand…?”
“Warm hands help you drift off quicker.”
His fingers jerked once, but when I held firm, he ceased struggling.
Goodness, his hands dwarf mine.
Seen this closely, they were enormous—long, elegant digits bearing faint calluses. Even clasping with both of mine, I couldn’t fully encircle his palm.
Perhaps my own are simply diminutive…
The contact left me faintly ill at ease.
Gently, I began to knead it: rubbing the coarse patches, tracing his fingers, pressing key spots with care.
An odd sensation stirred within me.
Truth be told, I could scarcely recall ever holding another’s hand this way, not even in my former life.
As a girl, my mother’s grasp was forever claimed by others; as a woman, no bonds ran deep enough for such intimacy.
Yet clasping the Grand Duke’s felt strangely right.
Hold on—why’s he so hushed?
I’d braced for complaints, but he’d gone quiet ages ago.
For someone unaccustomed to touch, it had to be…
Intrigued, I glanced up.
He’d averted his face, as though shielding it. From my vantage, though, his features lay bare.
Teasing words died on my tongue.
His expression twisted in quiet anguish, on the verge of tears. His chest hitched with ragged, shallow breaths.
I dropped my eyes, feigning ignorance.
How could a frame so powerful appear this brittle?
Even my breath seemed too loud to risk. I merely cradled his hand in stillness.
When next I looked, sleep had claimed him. His lashes quivered faintly over even respirations.
He resembles a slumbering pup.
Tenderly, I tucked his now-toasty hand beneath the covers and slipped from the chamber.
If this world holds true, those scant tragic lines I once skimmed were his lived torment.
The Grand Duke was, beyond doubt, a figure from the tale.
Yet his emotions rang so vividly, I kept overlooking it.
I figured I could handle him like a game avatar…
Had I plunged too deeply into this realm?
Lost in reverie, I traversed the corridor to the grand staircase.
Voices drifted up from below.
“Swapped shifts again, have you?”
“What choice did I have? No one to mind the little ones.”
The maids murmured in low tones.
I halted at the stair’s edge, concealed.
“What’s her alibi this round?”
“Her husband twisted his ankle.”
“How in the world?”
The first paused, then whispered something that drew a snicker from the other.
“Sounds like they were setting a sultry scene—things heating up—when the children burst in!”
“Oh dear!”
“The fool leaped in fright, snagged the bedframe, and wrenched it.”
Giggles erupted anew.
Mere idle chatter, harmless enough. But having ducked out of sight first, emerging now felt clumsy. Panic flickered—were they gossiping about me?
Descend now?
Chill seeped into my feet from the shadowed hall.
As I resolved to step forward, a known voice cut in.
“What are you two doing here?”
It belonged to the maid who tended my quarters morning and night.
“Just a quick breather.”
“You shouldn’t linger here after dusk.”
“I’m only loitering. Why the drama?”
“The head butler forbade anyone near the central stairs at night.”
“Such a stickler.”
“And you? What brings you?”
“No hot water in Lady B’s room.”
“I’m delivering some.”
“…Hold on, this is lukewarm.”
“It was piping when I fetched it. Night chill, probably.”
“Reheat it.”
“Ugh, I’m not your lackey.”
“It’s your shift’s duty.”
“Fine, whatever! I delivered it already, alright?”
“Lady B won’t care. Just set it down.”
With that, the pair shuffled off, still bickering. The third sighed and trailed after.
Rule-followers earn scorn everywhere, it seems.
Their laxity irked me, but it wasn’t my affair.
No laws broken, after all.
I lingered a moment more before retreating to my quarters. Oddly, the lounge stood vacant.
Only later did the final maid arrive with the water.
Did she truly reheat it?
Curiosity bloomed for this dutiful soul.
“Could you pour me a glass?”
She set the teapot and cup on the table, then filled it. I sipped.
Perfectly warm.
She’d bothered reheating it properly.
Kitchen run at this hour—such a chore.
The Grand Duke’s household treated staff far better than my prior one. Knowing my leniency, most cut corners.
But this one had upheld standards, unseen.
I’d thrived in a dingy studio flat before, so no real hardship here.
Still, on her watch, the space gleamed pristine.
Expression blank, the maid awaited the cup’s return.
Brown hair framed a freckled face. Her nose turned up bluntly, eyes keen.
No hint of grand designs, nor fawning efforts.
She simply refused self-delusion.
Reminds me of myself—resilient.
“What’s your name?”
Poised statue-still, she faltered as if bracing for rebuke, then replied.
“Leta.”
“The water’s nicely warm—perfect for drinking. Thank you.”
Her eyes flared wide, at a loss. She fumbled for reply, settled on a bow, and claimed the cup.
Back at the marquisate, maids had been icy; closeness never crossed my mind.
Here, servants kept distance too, so I spoke little. Overfamiliarity risked backbiting, stinging my heart.
Knowing names, though—harmless enough.
Leta finished her tasks and departed. I flung myself onto the bed.
Perhaps the endless day, or idleness, had my thoughts churning more than usual since arriving.
Am I the sort who thrives on purpose?
For now, the duke served as mine.
The notion soothed me into sleep.
