Chapter 22
The prospect of matrimony caught Classie entirely off guard. It felt premature to even consider such a commitment. Their acquaintance was brief, consisting of only a handful of encounters—was he truly making a proposal this early?
Furthermore, formal marriage arrangements required a specific protocol that didn’t involve the couple discussing it themselves. Regardless of their mutual affection, such negotiations were strictly the domain of family guardians.
While she acted as a caretaker for Merran, Classie lacked any legal authority over her. If the girl intended to wed, the consent of her eldest brother-in-law was mandatory. She tried to recall the specific lineage of the Dernick family.
Practical complications swarmed through her mind.
Because of her own unconventional status, Classie knew her parents would likely accept any man of appropriate social rank. The hurdle lay with the other side of the family. Unlike Classie, Merran was the firstborn daughter of her brother-in-law and the future recipient of a noble title. He would never permit a union based solely on a young woman’s infatuation.
Trying to remain composed so she wouldn’t alarm the girl, Classie inquired, “Has Sir Dernick actually asked for your hand?”
Merran gave her aunt’s arm a playful, embarrassed shove. “Hardly! It’s far too early for that.”
Classie remained puzzled. “What was the talk of marriage about, then?”
Merran turned her head, her skin glowing with a deep crimson hue. She bounded toward Classie with a burst of energy and seized her hands.
“He told me that since I was inviting him to both my maternal and paternal residences, it felt as though we were already becoming husband and wife! And Classie, he gave me the most wonderful smile when he said it!”
Merran was practically vibrating with joy. This wasn’t the performative flirting she used to distract suitors from Classie; this was raw, genuine happiness.
A heavy breath escaped Classie. Her niece was truly smitten with Dernick. This wasn’t a whim; her feelings were profound.
To any objective observer, the man’s remark was clearly a lighthearted jest. Yet Merran was spinning into a frenzy over a single witty comment.
Classie’s expression soured. To her, Dernick was beginning to look like a serial charmer.
While the two women were preoccupied with their dinner conversation, Kishin and Dernick were similarly engaged over their own meal.
Though they were of different ages, their bond stretched back to their earliest years. They had never been separated for long, save for a few months when Dernick was thirteen.
That specific year had marked a permanent shift in their destinies. During that time, Dernick encountered the person who would become his lifelong mentor, while Kishin was burdened with a tragic, tear-soaked distinction.
“I ultimately failed to locate the item belonging to Sister Mary,” Dernick remarked, concluding his long-winded story with a heavy sigh as they finished eating.
Kishin had remained largely silent throughout the monologue, offering only a brief grunt of acknowledgement.
“She did mention she would host me at her family estate later, though,” Dernick added, staring gloomily at his empty plate before a grin returned to his face. “Enough about my problems. How was your day? I heard rumors of an intriguing investigation involving a famous stage performer suspected of espionage. Is there any truth to that?”
Kishin’s brow tensed. “That is a confidential matter. Who gave you that information?”
“My uncle mentioned it,” Dernick replied with a shameless shrug.
Kishin shook his head, weary of his friend’s lack of discretion. Finding amusement in his friend’s irritation, Dernick nudged Kishin’s foot under the table.
“Your annoyance confirms it. Which actor is it? Anyone I’d recognize?”
Kishin knew his friend could likely uncover the details if he truly tried, but he had no desire to involve him in the case. He chose to pivot the conversation.
“I happened to see Lady Classie at the grand theater.”
Dernick was instantly distracted. “Is that so?”
Kishin put his cutlery down, watching his companion’s surprised reaction. “I thought you had an engagement with her? She mentioned inviting you to her residence.”
Dernick gave an uncomfortable laugh while rubbing the back of his neck. “That was the plan, but when I arrived, only the daughter of Lady Mary was there. The weapons merchant had already departed.”
Kishin had only mentioned the woman to change the subject, but the mere mention of her name caused his earlier irritation to resurface.
Dernick saw the change in his friend’s mood and leaned in, intrigued. “Did something happen? You look miserable. Did the two of you have a falling out?”
“She seemed quite preoccupied with another gentleman,” Kishin said, his voice dropping an octave.
Dernick’s eyes went wide. “Another man? Who? Is it someone in our circle?”
Kishin was well aware of the man’s identity, and he suspected Dernick was too. The individual belonged to a family that had once been investigated for ties to forbidden sorcery.
However, Kishin kept that to himself. This wasn’t about politics or crime; it was simply the behavior of a fickle woman.
As he spoke, Kishin felt his spirits sink further. The very first woman to ever truly capture his attention had proven herself to be nothing more than a flirt.
Conversely, his friend seemed to find the situation increasingly hilarious. Dernick doubled over with laughter.
“Are you actually sulking because a girl who liked you went out with someone else, Kishin? It’s not as if you and the merchant are actually a couple.”
“You and Lady Classie seem to share a certain temperament,” Kishin countered.
“Why? Does she speak like I do?”
“She questioned why she should be expected to remain faithful to me just because she has feelings for me. When I asked if her heart changed that easily, she suggested that the duration of one’s regret—be it a day or a month—was irrelevant.”
Dernick’s jaw dropped as he listened. When the story ended, Kishin felt a surge of bitterness and drained his wine glass in a single gulp.
Upon setting the glass down, he noticed Dernick looked strangely energized, his excitement almost feverish.
“What is it now?” Kishin asked, wary of the look on his friend’s face.
Dernick flashed a wide smile. “Based on what you’ve said, it sounds like Lady Classie and I share the same philosophy.”
“A philosophy of being unfaithful?” Kishin asked.
“The public might label it that. But we aren’t unfaithful. We don’t juggle multiple lovers at once. We simply move on to the next chapter without delay!”
Kishin was a man who believed in a single, enduring love. While he valued Dernick’s friendship, he found his perspective on relationships incomprehensible. He simply shook his head in disapproval.
Dernick chuckled. “Kishin, do you still harbor any feelings for her?”
“Absolutely not,” Kishin snapped back.
He had no interest in the games of romance. He harbored the thought that he might live his entire life without falling in love.
But if he ever did, he wanted it to be a singular, unwavering devotion where two people were entirely committed to one another. He wanted no part of a woman who treated affection so casually.
“In that case,” Dernick said, still grinning, “would you mind if I pursued Lady Classie myself?”
Kishin’s expression darkened. “I was under the impression you were pursuing Lady Merran.”
Dernick made a dramatic gesture of revulsion, as if the suggestion were preposterous.
Having established that boundary, Dernick waited for a sign of approval. Kishin sat in silence, toyed with his empty glass.
He told himself he had no reason to care about Classie Kalashi. Women of her ilk were exhausting. There was no future for them anyway.
“Kishin, give me an answer. I need to know you don’t care so I can make my move without feeling guilty.”
After a long pause, Kishin stood up, his voice cold and detached. “You don’t need my permission. Lady Kalashi and I have no formal ties. We are both free to do as we wish. Act according to your own desires.”
A heavy snowfall blanketed the region for several days. As the temperature plummeted, Classie retreated into the warmth of her home, refusing to leave her room.
Merran seemed perfectly happy to brave the elements, but Classie saw no reason to subject herself to the freezing cold.
Eventually, Florence grew tired of her friend’s reclusiveness. After several ignored invitations, she arrived in person and gave Classie’s cheek a sharp pinch.
“I feel far too sluggish to go out…” Classie grumbled.
“You’ve used that same line since we were children! It’s a terrible excuse!” Florence retorted.
She hauled Classie out of her bed and forced her into winter attire. Against her will, Classie found herself being driven toward the town square in Florence’s carriage.
The square was a sea of white. The accumulated snow had stayed frozen, and the landscape was dotted with snowmen. The air was filled with the shouts of children playing.
The vibrant scene finally began to thaw Classie’s icy mood. Florence led her out of the vehicle.
The excitement proved contagious once Classie’s feet hit the ground. The pair rented a set of skates and made their way onto the ice.
As they glided across the frozen surface, Classie thought she caught glimpses of Dernick in the distance. She held Florence’s hand tightly, her eyes darting around the crowd.
“Were you searching for me?”
A voice whispered close to her ear from behind. The sudden sound startled Classie, causing her to lose her grip on Florence. She spun around, her blades wobbling precariously on the ice.
Standing there was Dernick.
