Chapter 32
Classie gave a strained grin and a small nod.
Boiling with rage, Merran slammed her heel against the floor and stormed out. Classie changed her garments, feeling a sense of liberation that outweighed her lingering guilt. She reflected that despite her niece’s refusal to listen, her suggestions were grounded in reality.
Once she had settled in and felt more at ease, Merran reclined on the settee, seeking reassurance. She asked her nanny what she made of the situation and if her aunt’s words held any weight.
Karen paused, admitting that Classie had clearly put significant thought into her position.
Merran scoffed, suggesting her aunt was simply obsessed with men. She noted that Classie only seemed to find her wits when romance was involved, questioning if her aunt valued potential suitors more than her own kin.
Reluctantly, Karen began to untangle the knots in Merran’s disheveled hair, offering a soft agreement. She remarked that regardless of Classie’s motives, the advice was actually sound this time.
As the comb moved through her locks, Merran relaxed her posture and closed her eyes. She mused aloud about her internal conflict—whether to keep barring her aunt from her personal life or to heed the suggestion and focus solely on her own pursuit of love. She clarified that her attraction to Lord Dernick wasn’t based on his status as the Grand Duke’s heir; it was simply that her personal requirements were exceptionally high.
Karen looked down at Merran with affection, noting that her high standards were justified. She pointed out that Merran was far more sincere than the other socialites hunting for a title, as she had fallen for Dernick before realizing his rank. Karen was certain the Grand Duke and Duchess would appreciate such genuine feelings.
The nanny admired the thick, soft curls now beginning to shine. Even in her current state of disarray, Merran maintained the charm of a porcelain doll. Karen spoke of her pride, imagining Merran as a future Marquess and Grand Duchess, adding that Mary would have been overjoyed to see her daughter reach such heights.
Merran agreed that her mother would have been truly happy, though perhaps a bit protective. She insisted that Mary would never have manipulated her emotions the way Classie did.
Karen gently reminded her that while Classie tried to fill the void, she could never truly replace Lady Mary. She urged Merran to set aside the bitterness, promising her she would become the most enchanting Grand Duchess the world had ever seen.
The compliment earned a laugh from Merran, who gave Karen a playful shove, telling her not to get ahead of herself.
Karen let out a breath and began picking stray hairs off the rug. She pointed out that once Merran attained that rank, Classie’s marital status would be irrelevant. She noted that while Classie might inherit a fortune if she remained single, it paled in comparison to the immense wealth of the Grand Duchy.
Merran’s brow furrowed in a sharp scowl. She snapped at Karen to stop framing her motivations around money, fearing that any eavesdropper might think she was chasing Sir Dernick solely for his estate or her aunt’s inheritance.
Karen quickly apologized, acknowledging that a noblewoman of Merran’s standing would never be so shallow. She explained that her focus on wealth came only from a desire to see Merran secure, promising that such candid thoughts were reserved for Merran’s ears alone.
The apology smoothed Merran’s temper, though the tension in her face didn’t fully vanish. Noticing this, Karen shifted to a more spirited tone. She suggested they needed a concrete plan to secure the Grand Duchess title and offered to investigate any whispers regarding Sir Dernick and the House of Siwill.
Merran added that she should look into Sir Kishin as well, just to be safe.
Karen agreed eagerly, proud of her own initiative. Before leaving the topic, she advised Merran to maintain her composure around Classie for the time being. She warned her not to let Classie’s burgeoning relationship with Sir Kishin provoke her into an outburst.
Merran bristled, asking if she was expected to just stand by and watch without intervening.
Karen insisted it was necessary. She argued that a moment of pique shouldn’t be allowed to jeopardize Merran’s bright future. If things progressed with Sir Dernick, the best course of action was to simply ignore Classie’s affairs.
Merran eventually conceded to the nanny’s logic. Given how much energy she usually spent trying to manage her aunt, this shift in focus was significant. It served as a testament to the depth of her feelings for Dernick; for his sake, she was willing to tolerate her aunt’s happiness, however bitter it tasted.
Yet, a firm resolution does not instantly quiet the heart. That night, sleep eluded Merran. She spent the hours wrestling with her blankets, unable to find peace.
By three in the morning, she gave up on rest and sat up, reaching for the necklace she always wore. The pendant was a far cry from the typical jewelry of the elite, lacking any gold or gems. Instead, it held a small glass vial.
Inside the tiny container, a liquid glowed with the ethereal light of a fallen moonbeam.
Merran’s thoughts drifted back to the day she received it. Nearly a decade ago, following her mother’s burial, she had been a broken child weeping at the gravesite. The world felt empty. Her mother was gone, and in her place was a new woman her father had brought home—a woman who wore a mask of kindness while her eyes betrayed the fact that she viewed Merran as a nuisance.
Refusing to go back to the home haunted by that woman and her father, Merran had stayed by the grave into the darkness. That was when a young boy had approached her. He had taken this very necklace from his neck and fastened it around hers.
The memory finally brought a heaviness to her eyes, and she drifted off.
The following evening, the dining room was thick with a heavy silence. Merran, usually the life of the table, ate without a word. Classie made no effort to bridge the gap. Anna, caught in the middle of their cold war, could only sigh and focus on her own tasks.
The arrival of the butler broke the stillness. He announced that Sir Kishin had sent a floral arrangement for Lady Classie. He held a vibrant bouquet that concealed a substantial envelope.
“Sir Kishin?” Classie’s voice was bright as she hurried over. She took the flowers, breathing in their scent, and asked if a guard had brought them.
Merran’s jaw set as she gripped her silverware tightly. Anna, feeling the sudden rise in tension, took a long drink of water to hide her reaction.
The butler, oblivious to the simmering hostility, matched Classie’s upbeat energy. He confirmed that a guard had delivered them on the Vice-Captain’s behalf.
Classie, looking as though she might kiss the petals, asked what the messenger’s expression had been. The sound of a metal fork scraping harshly against a ceramic plate reminded her of her audience.
Classie barely finished her meal before retreating to her chambers, clutching her gifts. True to her new strategy, Merran did not give chase.
Once behind closed doors, Classie sat on her bed and spread the letter open across her lap. She wondered what could have prompted him to write so suddenly.
The parchment detailed the rhythm of Kishin’s day. He wrote of his busy mornings spent catching up on missed reports and his afternoons filled with duty. He noted that he preferred the constant movement of a busy schedule, as silence often felt like the omen of a coming storm, making both him and his men restless and prone to harsher training.
Then, the tone shifted. He mentioned that his eyes had been drawn to the sofa in his office where she had recently sat. He offered to have a custom cushion made for her if she had a specific preference for colors or patterns. He concluded by confessing that she crossed his mind at least once every day, and he wondered if he occupied her thoughts as well.
Though the writing was professional and somewhat reserved, the sincerity of his words brought a constant smile to Classie’s face.
Anna entered with a tray of warm coffee and stopped in her tracks, remarking on how lovestruck Classie looked. She warned her mistress not to let such a goofy expression slip in public.
Classie ignored the teasing, holding the letter to her heart and showing off the flowers. She beamed, telling Anna that Kishin had given them to her and had even admitted to thinking of her.
Anna teased that thinking of her only once a day seemed a bit low, but she watched as Classie buried her face in the blossoms. She remarked that this blatant display of joy was exactly why Merran was currently miserable.
When Classie asked for clarification, Anna explained that Merran had stayed in the dining room to eat ice cream through her tears. Anna pointed out that Merran viewed Classie as a surrogate mother and was likely terrified of being abandoned if Classie moved on to a new life with a husband.
Classie’s smile faded slightly as she touched the flowers. She admitted she understood the feeling, recalling the grief she felt when her own sister married and when Merran was born. It had felt like losing her place in her sister’s heart.
Anna urged her to be gentler with the girl, noting that they wouldn’t be living under the same roof forever now that Merran was an adult.
Classie countered that she was kind to her niece whenever the girl wasn’t being difficult. She pointed out that even as a child, she hadn’t acted out the way Merran did when their sister married.
Anna conceded the point and left the room. Classie’s mood grew somber as she set the bouquet aside and sighed. Anna didn’t realize that the bond between Classie and Merran was far more complicated than the one Classie had shared with her sister.
Taking only the letter, Classie entered her hidden study. She placed Kishin’s message in a drawer, right next to the collection of letters from her first love.
