Ch#88
“Has he yielded to the Grand Duchess’s influence?”
That earlier flinch of his, warning her to stay back—it suggested he feared discovery by the Grand Duchess.
A lump of hurt lodged in her throat, leaving Meisel no option but to bid him a courteous goodbye.
With each retreating footfall, the soft jingle of her jewelry carried an oddly mournful note.
“Are you all right?”
Once Meisel had cast a final glance over her shoulder and departed, I turned to assess Loic’s state.
“She didn’t lay a hand on you, did she?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Loic replied, clearing his throat.
“You arrived just in time to pull me from the brink…”
Amid his unease, a subtle smile tugged at his lips.
Evidently, my earlier theatrics had left an impression.
“You can smile at a moment like this?”
My gentle rebuke prompted him to press his mouth into a firm line.
“No.”
“I had little choice. These incidents could strike again without warning. Without a display like that, noblewomen will continue hurling themselves at you whenever they please.”
Truthfully, vigilance was essential.
I’d stepped away for a mere instant, and already Meisel had closed in.
Then again, with such a remarkable man, it was hardly surprising.
Not even a robe could dim his allure.
Beneath the hood, Loic’s features radiated aristocratic refinement.
At this pace, he’d soon claim the title of the empire’s most eligible bachelor.
Now that he ventured into public more often, his marital status—tied to what they viewed as an adversary—wouldn’t deter them in the slightest.
A nagging worry surfaced: more women like Meisel would inevitably appear.
“From here on, cover your face whenever possible.”
Loic’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“And don the shabby garments from your old days.”
“…?”
“You’ve grown far too striking. The noble ladies are redoubling their efforts to approach you.”
“What do you…?”
The Grand Duke coughed, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
“No one sees it that way.”
Did this man never glance in a mirror?
In any case, my sharp words to Meisel would likely fuel her gossip. Still, other women might think twice before confronting Loic.
Perhaps from the strain, the strands of hair peeking from under his hood gleamed with moisture.
I drew a handkerchief and tenderly dabbed his brow.
“The children…”
“No cause for concern. Their parents were already searching. Jerome has them now, so reunions should happen swiftly.”
For some reason, a subtle warmth emanated from Loic’s skin.
Was he feverish?
As I lifted my hand to test, he clasped it softly and guided it down.
“Forgive me, but I must depart from here alone. Will you manage?”
“Alone?”
His eyes drifted toward the lakeshore.
The fountain display had concluded, and the throng had scattered.
The street before the shops, deserted moments before, now brimmed with revelers once more.
“Ah…”
“Norton will see you safely home, so try not to fret.”
At that, I glanced back to find Norton lingering a short distance away, ready to accompany me.
“And you?”
“I’ll take the gate along that wooded trail.”
He assured me his knights had likely fetched his mount already.
“Then you head out first.”
“No, you.”
“I’ve got Sir Norton, but you’d be on your own.”
Since his encounter with Meisel, his pallor had seemed strangely ashen, stirring my unease.
That forest path appeared forebodingly dim.
Even a sturdy adult might quail at traversing it solo, no?
One could never predict what might lurk in the underbrush…
I nearly instructed Norton to escort Loic ahead, insisting I’d be fine.
“I’m sorry,” Loic murmured.
“For what?”
He paused, then continued.
“I realize the effort you poured into transforming this lakeside.”
Out of the blue?
Puzzled, I met his gaze, and he offered a sheepish smile.
“I should have proclaimed it publicly and thanked you before the crowd…”
“What on earth? You’ve expressed your gratitude a thousand times over.”
“Not in an official capacity.”
I scrunched my nose.
The same issue again.
He regretted the lack of a formal ceremony honoring the Grand Duchess.
With the Grand Duke unable to appear openly, it was unavoidable.
“Still, you’ve spread the word informally throughout the territory.”
Every bulletin from the ducal residence during preparations opened with “Curated by Her Grace the Grand Duchess herself…” and each gathering commenced with “Per Her Ladyship’s design…”
By now, no soul in Blenheim remained ignorant that the lakeside market was my brainchild.
Yet he fretted over the secrecy.
If Loic were my superior, I’d swear fealty eternally.
Even now, the need for concealment clearly troubled him.
“Then I’ll go on ahead.”
His remorseful expression prompted me to turn away first.
I signaled Norton with a wave over my shoulder, and Loic, raising a hand from his side, returned a modest gesture.
Back at the administrative office, Cecilia awaited with an array of treats she’d gathered.
We savored apple tart on the terrace as Perel delivered his updates.
Attendance had exceeded projections, leaving some vendors depleted and shuttered ahead of schedule. A few eateries exhausted their supplies mid-rush, pausing briefly to replenish. All in all, the market triumphed.
“It’ll take roughly a week to iron out the kinks, but the delegation’s arrival should see it operating seamlessly.”
Perel, relieved, credited the staff’s tireless efforts for averting major mishaps amid the masses.
Responses to the market glowed with approval.
Lacking prior recreational venues, folk reveled in the bustle, elbow-to-elbow.
That necessitated extending hours by one.
Only as the exodus thinned the crowds did I board a carriage for the ducal castle.
What a gratifying, draining triumph.
Throughout the market’s rollout, a thread of anxiety had knotted inside me.
Especially since no one had challenged my vision.
In my past life, meddlers and overseers would have swarmed with directives and disruptions.
Here, though, officials and laborers executed flawlessly, accepting my decisions as infallible—a prospect that unnerved me, truth be told.
Yet nothing had ever felt so fulfilling.
Taut from dawn, my limbs throbbed, but fulfillment swelled in my chest.
I’d upheld the Grand Duchess’s mantle admirably.
Leta, having readied my bedchamber, brimmed with cheer from the excursion.
Feigning composure, she presented warmed water. I sipped and settled in.
“Rest well, Your Ladyship.”
“Good night, Leta.”
Once Leta departed, contentment lulled me toward slumber.
…
Time blurred.
On the cusp of dreams—
Knock, knock.
A sharp, insistent rap pierced the quiet.
Who at this hour?
Dread sharpened my awareness.
Snatching a light wrap, I hastened to the door as the knocks intensified.
Norton stood rigid outside.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your Ladyship…”
The knight gulped, his tone beseeching.
“Please, save His Grace.”
I trailed Norton from the main castle.
Chilly night breezes kissed my ankles.
He guided me along an unfamiliar route.
Beyond the east wing’s arcade, we navigated jagged stone stairs linking edifices, then a rugged, sloping lane for some distance.
He’d warned of Loic’s impending frenzy, so I’d donned a robe and hurried after.
Norton knew of the curse, then…
Anxiety and alarm made my footing falter repeatedly.
I’d knotted his cravat daily, clasped his hand occasionally.
Hadn’t that eased his mana sufficiently?
Why this abrupt surge?
With time short, Norton proposed a rugged shortcut; I agreed.
The terrain proved steeper, more treacherous than anticipated, leaving me breathless and silent in pursuit.
Even in haste, he checked over his shoulder to confirm I kept pace.
“Mind your step. It’s treacherous.”
Some ten minutes later, after descending a lengthy, slick stoneway hugging the outer wall, Norton halted.
A sturdy brick edifice loomed—fortress-like, jarringly incongruous amid its neighbors.
“This is…”
“His Grace’s refuge until the episode passes,” Norton explained, unfastening the heavy iron portal.
At the corridor’s far end waited two figures: Whitley and Enolius.
Enolius?
He noticed me, scowled in evident irritation, shot Whitley a look, then sighed as his eyes returned to mine.