Ch#57
“I’ve already refused it outright, so even if a letter arrives for the Duke, you mustn’t agree to it, all right?”
Loic appeared mildly puzzled by her words.
“Are you truly fine with that?”
“Absolutely. After all, I already have Cecilia.”
Earlier, the Duchess had gone so far as to instruct him not to admit anyone dispatched by the Marquis beyond the castle gates, invited or not.
A steady stream of letters had poured in from the capital, yet the Duchess’s resolute stance had kept matters from escalating into a crisis.
“We should bolster Her Grace’s protection,” Loic murmured after a moment of reflection.
Initially, he had sought to keep her profile understated.
That was why he had limited her escort to Norton alone—fearing that a more ostentatious guard might draw perilous eyes.
They could hardly continue shuttling her in an inconspicuous carriage like some aristocrat’s spouse indefinitely, particularly for formal outings.
“You dispatch donations to the orphanage each season? What sorts of items?”
Not long prior, after touring the orphanage, the Duchess had reviewed the contribution ledger and insisted on curating the gifts personally.
She seemed so thrilled when she proposed it; I couldn’t bring myself to refuse.
Numerous families in the vicinity had suffered from that brutal conflict.
Perhaps deploying an entire knight squadron made sense—to deter any foolhardy approaches.
“Shall I summon the 1st Knight Order?”
Norton inquired, prompting Loic to scowl.
Dispatching Demiche would spell disaster…
“Ha! Fear not, Your Grace! I’ll shield you! Hey, you— what’s that glare for? Got an issue with Her Grace?”
The uproar unfolded vividly in his mind’s eye.
“No. I’ll mull it over further.”
Moments after Norton departed with a respectful bow, Perel lingered, shifting uncomfortably as if burdened by unspoken words.
“Something on your mind?”
“Er…”
Once Norton was out of earshot, Perel paused once more before plunging ahead.
“Perhaps… you ought to express your emotions more openly?”
“Elaborate.”
Loic’s voice hardened, and Perel gulped.
“Her Grace.”
Those words sent a faint quiver through Loic’s gaze.
“She’s giving her all, isn’t she? Tending to the servants, reaching out to you…”
Perel’s eyes flicked to Loic’s hand—the one the Duchess had clasped so recently.
Only moments before, her warm grip had enveloped it.
“She clasps your hand with such genuine affection, yet you remain as immovable as stone.”
“Was I truly that way?”
Loic recoiled at the unanticipated rebuke.
“I meant only to tread carefully for her sake…”
On reflection, though, he had kept a cool distance each time she bridged the gap. She might well have felt ill at ease.
“What if my reserve leads her astray?”
Emboldened by Loic’s quiet, Perel pressed on with greater confidence.
“Today would have been ideal for an outing together. Nearly three months wed, and you’ve yet to venture out as a couple.”
The mention of a date flushed Loic’s neck crimson.
As Loic awkwardly scrubbed his face with a broad palm, Perel averted his gaze, flustered.
He hadn’t craved involvement in his superior’s private life.
Yet intervention felt necessary—Loic excelled in every domain save courtship.
“At minimum, compliment her appearance today. Offer some praise.”
“I can manage that on my own.”
“But—”
Loic’s reddened ears betrayed his irritation as Perel’s smugness surfaced; he fixed him with a sharp stare.
“And do you truly fancy yourself an authority on romance?”
Loic lifted his chin, mirroring the smugness.
“At least I’m married.”
The implication hung unspoken:
Unlike you.
Hey! You’re the reason I’m still unattached!
Perel’s cheeks spasmed with suppressed ire, but the retort died on his lips.
“Out.”
Ultimately, Perel slunk from the chamber empty-handed.
Meanwhile, I lingered before the grand castle, observing as laborers stowed crates aboard a row of waiting carriages.
The cargo comprised supplies for the Duke’s supported orphanage.
Cecilia and Leta scrutinized the inventory with meticulous care, ensuring no item went overlooked.
Our orphanage excursion had stretched longer than anticipated.
The donation roster had undergone a thorough overhaul.
Formerly, the Grand Duchy’s shipments consisted chiefly of foodstuffs and household essentials.
“Other necessities come from a separate allocation,”
Perel had explained when I queried the absence of educational materials.
In truth, I couldn’t fault the aide’s unease—his duties already brimmed.
Henceforth, I’ll oversee it with greater diligence myself.
Time aplenty remained to me!
And darling children deserved every effort!
Fortuitously, I shared a rapport with the orphanage director.
My written inquiry about the children’s needs beyond bare sustenance yielded a prompt, exhaustive reply.
It prioritized age-appropriate stationery and volumes, alongside delights like dolls and playthings.
I consulted Leta’s fellow maids on youthful preferences to refine it.
Cecilia then sourced a reliable vendor; we placed the order and awaited delivery—which demanded patience.
I refrained from the orphanage coffers, funding it from my private purse.
Even so, the orderly stacks aboard the carriages swelled my chest with satisfaction.
The little ones will adore these, won’t they?
As the task neared completion, four or five knights approached from the main keep.
Even afar, the tousled golden locks proved unmistakable.
Tiern Bierri, accompanied by the 9th Knight Division.
“…Greetings, Lady Annette.”
I lifted my gaze wordlessly to Tiern, positioned foremost.
His lengthy lashes veiled his eyes, yet the chill beneath pierced through.
“Sir Tiern.”
My response stayed curt, a mere acknowledgment of his name.
“For the coming period, the 9th Knight Division shall safeguard you, Lady Annette.”
“The Grand Duke informed me. I place myself in your hands.”
I mustered an uneasy smile.
Ugh! I should have declined outright!
The Grand Duke had proposed augmenting my detail with gentle insistence.
Extra escorts would heighten my visibility—a drawback—yet his worry compelled my assent.
Still, the 9th Division was a poor choice.
To avoid seeming demanding, I feigned composure.
But this grates!
As I toyed anxiously with my gown’s edge…
“I hadn’t realized the orphanage provisions remained undelivered.”
Tiern eyed the carriage, his tone icy nonchalance.
“The children must have grown impatient.”
Sarcasm masqueraded as idle remark.
What, now he faults me for the holdup?
The Grand Duke had shared snippets…
The 9th Division held the orphanage dear, frequently escorting prior shipments.
He’d suggested their utility, so I held my tongue.
I had valid excuses too, you know? This sneering is unjust.
“Is that the case?”
I met Tiern’s stare steadily.
“I aimed to outpace the knights’ efforts, at least.”
My retort highlighted their tardy arrival, post my vigil.
The knights’ scowls deepened; I merely lifted my shoulders.
“Shall we depart? I’ve leisure to spare, but the children, as you note, await.”
Tiern’s lip caught between his teeth as he wheeled toward his men.
“Prepare.”
The knights hastened to their mounts, Tiern pivoting with a theatrical swirl of cloak, his glare brimming with pique.
“Wouldn’t we be safer without that sort of guard?”
Cecilia huffed from behind me.
“To me, Sir Tiern poses the gravest peril.”
“Cecilia.”
I shot her a cautionary glance, though inwardly I concurred.
Tiern proffered his hand as I ascended the carriage, his glare so venomous it chilled my nape.
Suddenly, Norton feels like a cherished memory.
Hoofbeats resounded fore and aft as we set forth for the orphanage.
The orphanage, though modest in scale, boasted a sturdy edifice.
“Greetings, Lady Annette.”
The director and instructors formed a line upon my alighting, inclining in reverence.
“A pleasure.”
Behind them, the children arrayed in tidy ranks.
Briefed on propriety, they stood rigid with apprehension.
The elder ones at rear rivaled the adults in stature.
Of course… many orphans, bereft of parents, had matured considerably.
“Oh! It’s the Goddess!”
Mid-survey of the assembly, a front-row child snared my attention—and thrust up a hand.