Chapter 30
“Why would the Grand Duchess summon Leon?”
The Grand Duke’s tone dropped, chilling the room. Leon and Perel both recoiled, yet Whitley stayed composed in his answer.
“She offered no explanation.”
“Only Leon?”
And what of me?
“Precisely.”
Whitley’s reply cut sharp and icy, as if he’d glimpsed Loic’s inner turmoil.
“Perhaps… I should accompany the head butler?”
Leon faltered, eyes flicking to Loic’s unmistakable scowl.
“…”
“Indeed, a wise plan. Sir Leon, gauge the atmosphere while you’re at it.”
Perel injected forced cheer to ease the tension.
“Gauge the atmosphere?”
“You’re already going—why not inquire if Her Highness enjoyed the gift—”
“Under no circumstances.”
Loic’s hard glare silenced Perel instantly.
“Not a single mention.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
Leon bolted after Whitley, fleeing the scene.
Perel gulped amid the stifling quiet, stranded with the Grand Duke.
“Greetings, Your Highness.”
“Sir Leon, do come in.”
I’d anticipated Leon’s typical brightness, but unease shadowed his face.
“Oh dear, have I kept you up too late? You must be exhausted.”
“Far from it! How could I feel weary in Your Highness’s presence?”
Leon dismissed the notion with frantic gestures.
Is it just me sensing this intimacy?
His words rang hollow as he darted anxious glances at the door, stirring my own discomfort.
Wasn’t this akin to a superior calling a subordinate after dark?
Hold on—I’m not even his superior. Does that render me the superior’s spouse summoning staff? Even more awkward.
How long since I’d occupied a junior role? Yet here I was, slipping into the guise of an imperious lady.
“My apologies for the hour. I need you to pass something along.”
“No trouble at all, Your Highness!”
Leon’s grin strained at the edges.
“What shall I convey?”
I extended a petite box.
“Would you deliver this to Madame Marie?”
“To my mother?”
Bewilderment creased Leon’s brow. The ornate jewelry case had clearly caught him off guard.
“Feel free to look inside.”
He lifted the lid and inhaled sharply at the floral brooch, its surface sparkling with tiny gems.
“Madame Marie shared her tomato stew recipe with me. Consider this a modest thank-you.”
Leon stuttered.
“Such a lavish item… for a mere recipe?”
“It’s not yours to refuse on her account. I’d hand it over myself, but I’d hate to burden her.”
I’d acquired the brooch during my Ramondria trip. Nothing ostentatious, but by my reckoning, it balanced the scales nicely.
Not to mention, it claimed half my contingency funds.
Still, endless tomato stew access made it a sound bargain.
Leon paused, then beamed with genuine warmth.
“My deepest thanks, Your Highness. I’ll see she gets it.”
“One more thing.”
The thought had nagged me since my inn visit.
“…Is the inn facing money troubles?”
After sketching the vibe there, Leon rubbed his neck sheepishly.
“Few travelers pass through. Our bargain lunch rates leave slim margins.”
“Why not hike the prices?”
“Prime location it’s not. Cheap fares draw the sparse crowd we have.”
Leon elaborated: his kindhearted mother often lavished extras beyond the bill, compounding woes. Still, he insisted they coped fine and brushed aside worries.
The cuisine shines, though. Pity the trade lags…
Ideas to boost their revenue bubbled up—then I reined them in.
No. I vowed against interference.
Since landing in this realm, I’d mulled my prior existence endlessly.
Why had diligence yielded such misery?
Epiphany struck.
My woes stemmed from prying into others’ affairs.
Thus, this lifetime’s creed: if it’s not mine, ignore it. No fixing.
“My own burdens suffice. Stay in my lane.”
“Thank you for coming at this hour. Off you go, Sir Leon.”
“My gratitude, Your Highness.”
As Leon grasped the door latch, a crucial detail resurfaced.
“Sir Leon?”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
Nearly slipped my mind.
“Has the Duke returned to the castle?”
Leon’s features lit up.
“Indeed! He’s just arrived.”
“I see.”
“No further engagements tonight, as far as I know. He’s available.”
Perceptive lad—quick on the uptake.
“Appreciated.”
I flashed a mischievous smile; Leon ducked his head, chuckling bashfully.
“Wonderful! Enjoy yourselves!”
Leon departed lighter, unburdened relief in his step.
“Why the glee over my seeking the Duke?”
Perhaps the knights fretted over their master’s solitude?
Truth be told, I pitied the Duke too.
Blenheim’s pinnacle noble, yet socially barren. No comrades, no confidants.
Work or drills filled his days. Nothing more.
“What a monotonous existence—mirroring my old one.”
Change loomed, however.
Our union was contractual, with him at the helm.
“Yet he’s a benevolent, thoughtful superior. And strikingly handsome to boot.”
Prime accounts demand stewardship.
As the sole spark for his drab routine—and given his reluctance to lead—I’d step up.
“He forbade nighttime visits, but…”
He hadn’t banned nocturnal encounters.
Merely summon him to neutral ground.
I peered out. Moonlight gilded the vista, amplifying its allure.
“Poor Whitley, laboring so late…”
A brief waver, then I summoned my steadfast butler anew.
“Does this suit Your Highness?”
“Impeccable! Whitley, you’re incomparable!”
“I’m gratified.”
Pride softened the elder butler’s smile.
I settled at the tea table within the glass conservatory.
A cart nearby bore fragrant herbal brew and exquisite confections—ideal for midnight indulgence.
I’d requested a greenhouse tea with the Duke; Whitley had orchestrated it flawlessly.
“Convey my invitation to the Duke.”
“I’ll be swift.”
Purpose etched Whitley’s face as he exited.
I surveyed the space.
The glass-domed haven exuded ethereal allure.
Lunar rays filtered through, bathing untamed creepers in gentle luminescence.
Unpruned boughs sprawled wildly; exotic verdure thrust from crevices. Raw, captivating wilderness.
Whitley’s initial castle tour had shown it padlocked—a mere peek fueling my longing for intimacy.
“I practically pleaded for entry.”
Fifty-fifty odds he’d appear.
Behind the stern facade lurked surprising delicacy. Yet he could freeze distant at will.
His nighttime-visit ban had brooked no argument.
“Ah well. Solo tea if he skips.”
Squandering this splendor alone seemed criminal.
Should I have fetched him personally?
Lost in rumination—
Scarce ten minutes passed before the Duke framed the threshold.
“Duke!”
“Have I kept you waiting?”
Serenity cloaked his voice, though his breaths came quicker.
“No need to hurry. Did you sprint here?”
“…No.”
Sweeping disheveled forelocks betrayed him, drawing my laugh.
Hurried footfalls had echoed, braking abruptly pre-entry. He’d dashed, now feigning calm.
Adorably transparent.
“I haven’t roused you from sleep?”
“I was brewing tea regardless.”
Night cloaked the world deeply.
“So it wasn’t nocturnal meetings he opposed—just me in his chambers!”
I chided myself inwardly.
“Simplifies everything.”
Solemn words belied his subtle thrill.
Summoning proved spot-on.
I served him steaming herbal tea.
As he drank, his eyes roamed the enclosure. Moonbeams etched his chiseled profile, accentuating his refined jawline.
I’d marked it at our debut, but nocturne transformed him.
The unbound hair? The shirt’s casual drape?
Veiled gaze lent perilous allure.
“Gazing at him dissolves my tensions.”
Truthfully.
I wasn’t enlivening his world.
He illuminated my own gray routine.
