Chapter 32
“You’ll come to regret it.”
Yet this shy facet of his was oddly endearing…
I puffed air at my fringe with deliberate flair and teased,
“Your Grace, I’m not proposing we share quarters. So why are you flushing so fiercely?”
The mere mention of sharing a room sent a vivid crimson flush creeping up the Grand Duke’s neck.
“D-don’t utter such things…”
He muttered almost inaudibly as I drew nearer.
“You dislike my nighttime visits, don’t you? That’s why I figured I’d at least stop by each morning to say hello. Even that’s too much?”
“No need to turn it into a vow.”
“…?”
“Simply drop in whenever the mood strikes. That suffices for me.”
“But what if I decide to visit every day?”
He paused at length before whispering so faintly I could scarcely catch it,
“…I’d relish it far too keenly.”
“Pardon?”
“If it became a promise… I’d spend every morning anticipating you.”
Had I caught that correctly?
“So, in other words, you’re avoiding a promise because you’d look forward to my visits too eagerly?”
He averted his eyes, compressing his lips in silence rather than reply.
Oh dear, was my heart holding up?
He was so utterly charming in that moment, I feared it might burst.
Stifling the smile tugging at my lips, I ventured,
“That prospect would delight me, though?”
His gaze had been fixed on the floor, but my words coaxed him to hesitate, then raise his head gradually.
“The very idea of Your Grace awaiting me each morning fills me with joy.”
“…You’ll grow weary of it.”
His murmur was a fragile thread of sound.
“Your Grace, may I share something?”
I held his eyes with gentle warmth.
“I’d take a husband who relies on me over a flawless one who doesn’t, any day.”
At that, scarlet flooded the Grand Duke’s features, from earlobes to crown.
“Eh?”
I gave his sleeve a playful tug, sending the towering, mountain of a man teetering unsteadily.
“Hmm? Your Grace?”
After gnawing his lip several times, he offered a tiny nod at last.
“Then… follow your heart.”
“Truly?”
“You’ll persist regardless, won’t you?”
“How ever did you guess?”
My triumphant grin drew a soft, resigned laugh from him.
His cheeks burned on.
Meanwhile…
Ferdinand, heir to the Marquisate of Frais, spotted an unanticipated yet recognizable emblem amid the stack of correspondence delivered by his valet.
It belonged to the Grand Duchy of Blenheim.
He lifted the envelope edged in gleaming gold.
Most aristocrats favored unadorned paper, deeming lavish flourishes tasteless.
This missive, however, flaunted opulent gold accents that seemed to scorn such conventions outright.
And he suspected the gilt was genuine, unlike the rest.
It hailed from a sender he’d never imagined hearing from.
With measured care, Ferdinand broke the seal.
“To my cherished brother Ferdinand,
Word reached me of your presence at my wedding.
I lament not greeting you myself—please accept my apologies.
Spring must be bursting forth in the capital now. In Blenheim, it creeps in gradually yet relentlessly.
Your gift arrived safely; I cherish it.
May peace ever attend you.
Yours sincerely,
Annette Blenheim.”
Ferdinand traced his thumb across the closing line.
“Annette Blenheim, is it.”
Only then did it sink in: she had severed all ties with the Frais lineage.
He’d long suspected Annette intended to depart.
After all, he owned the intelligence network where she’d attempted to offload her jewels.
“How much value do they hold?”
“At best, a few dozen danirs.”
Still, for a marquis’s daughter to possess nothing finer to pawn?
Ultimately, he’d directed the guild head to pay her fairly, without arousing doubt.
He’d questioned whether the carriage she’d hired could even reach Blenheim, but the letter confirmed her safe arrival.
Ferdinand scanned the note once more.
Its serene poise clashed with the skittish, sentimental girl he recalled.
“Doesn’t suit her? Do I truly know her so well?”
They’d shared little more than blood, never true kinship.
So why did her abandonment of the Frais name stir such acrid regret?
Dismissing idle musings, he slid the letter back into its sheath.
He’d already dispatched their mother’s heirloom to her in secret, beyond his father or Ladriel’s knowledge. He’d granted her due inheritance.
“That settles it. Her path henceforth is her own.”
As he glanced toward the window, a knock sounded.
Marquis Frais summoned him.
“Did Blenheim’s letter find its way to you?”
The marquis demanded, barely reining in his fury.
Evidently, he’d learned it had been routed straight to Ferdinand.
Since Annette’s wordless flight to Blenheim, the marquis teetered on eruption’s edge.
Being bested by his negligible third offspring stung; discovering her scheme’s premeditation deepened the wound.
Upon learning she’d stripped her chambers of wedding presents, jewels, and gowns prior to vanishing, even her maids and attendants faced reprimands.
“It bore my name.”
“Why would that wretch write to you?”
“A mere courtesy for my wedding attendance.”
“Nothing more?”
The marquis’s jaw flexed ominously.
A servant had sworn sighting Ferdinand’s man at the chapel, forcing his admission.
He’d downplayed it as a fleeting detour, yet suspicion lingered.
“Hand it over.”
“I consigned it to flames.”
“What?”
An eyebrow arched as the marquis probed his son’s motives.
“You destroyed a vital document? Knowing my stake in it?”
“It held no import.”
“Regardless, you ought to have delivered it promptly! Do you fancy defying me, your sire and this house’s lord?”
Ferdinand locked eyes with his father’s glare.
“I incinerated it to spare you the aggravation.”
Their stares collided, rigid with strain.
The marquis, his icy blue gaze boring into his son, yielded first.
Though Ferdinand rarely defied him, those eyes—echoes of his departed wife—unsettled the marquis at times.
As his father’s ire ebbed, Ferdinand released a hushed breath.
“Annette served her purpose. You secured your aim in the end, did you not?”
“My aim? Grasp the prize we squandered?”
The marquis crumpled the sheaf of papers in his fist.
“Do you fathom how I vetted the agents dispatched north with her?”
“The Grand Duke of Blenheim isn’t naive.”
Ferdinand replied evenly.
“Have you overlooked Blenheim’s martial borders? A dozen men alongside her wouldn’t breach the gates.”
“Hence the need for cunning—”
“Father.”
The marquis’s eyes narrowed at Ferdinand’s resolute timbre.
“Annette merits no such exertion. Frail as ever, wasn’t she? Whatever her role in the duchy, it aids us little.”
The marquis’s tone chilled to frost.
“Dare you school me?”
Ferdinand dropped his gaze, expression inscrutable.
“I merely wish you’d conserve your vigor for battles yet to unfold.”
“…Out.”
The curt dismissal closed the exchange.
Ferdinand bowed crisply and withdrew.
As the door clicked shut, the marquis ground his teeth.
“Over?
Far from it.
Despite relentless bids, he’d failed to insinuate spies into Blenheim.
Save for Annette.
Her flight marked betrayal, yet her foothold within offered leverage still.
“I’ve endured thus far… but the tide shifts.”
Blenheim’s initiative altered the game.
For the first time, the marquis penned a missive to his errant third daughter.
Knock, knock.
My rap was answered by the door swinging open at once.
“Did you rest well?”
The Grand Duke, hair slicked impeccably, exuded refined poise even at dawn.
“Do you linger by the entrance each morning?”
“…”
“Forget I asked.”
I shrugged it off and slipped inside with easy familiarity, ignoring his flustered quiet.
Since our greenhouse exchange, I’d made a habit of morning visits to knot his cravat. Barring mishaps, we’d descend to breakfast as one.
It evoked the rhythm of true newlyweds.
This morning, I selected a rich teal cravat to complement my gown. He inclined his head instinctively, accommodating me.
A fresh, invigorating aroma enveloped us as I draped the silk about his throat.
His exhalations grazed my skin, sending a faint shiver through me.
“He even smells divine.”
Mid-knot, I sensed him tense ever so slightly, touch-averse perhaps.
Yet he held statue-still, lest he hinder me.
It charmed me—like a tamed beast of the wilds.
Smoothing the fabric’s pleats, I heard him murmur,
“I’ll miss breakfast with you today.”
“Oh? Pressed for time?”
“Border villages demand inspection. The journey’s arduous; I depart at first light.”
“That does sound grueling.”
My reply drifted as I perfected the tie.
I savored this ritual; it sparked an unexpected thrill of purpose.
“There—perfect!”
Gazing at my handiwork, he faltered before adding,
“If it pleases you… dinner tonight, perhaps?”
“Truly? I’d adore that!”
His schedule left scant room for evenings, so I’d never broached it.
His uncommon overture lit my face with joy.
“I’ll have Whitley prepare something exquisite.”
“I’ll hasten back.”
He dipped his chin in assent.
Laughter bubbled from me unbidden.
“What amuses you?”
“This… it’s precisely how a real couple would carry on.”
While I beamed, the Grand Duke’s expression grew taut.
