Chapter 17
“Hmm… When I simply want to see you, it’s much better if I come to visit—provided Uncle allows it, of course.”
“Is that so?”
A delicate fragrance drifted from the flower Benjamin held in his arms. Her only task was to shield it, ensuring no violent gale could snap its stem.
It was enough to simply move it into the warmth of the sun, pick away the hungry pests, and listen intently to its soft, rustling sighs.
The boy already possessed the inner strength required to make his own soul bloom.
Jacqueline’s eyes danced as she pointed toward a nearby almond tree.
“Oh! Benjamin, look—a longhorn beetle! Would you like me to catch it for you?”
Benjamin began to nod with an eager, bright expression, but he stopped short. A flicker of hesitation crossed his brown eyes as he stole a worried glance at her.
She sensed exactly what was troubling the child. Planting her hands firmly on her hips, Jacqueline offered a confident declaration.
“Don’t worry, Benjamin. I won’t scream again—never. I was merely caught off guard last time, that’s all. I’m hardly a fragile lady who would be terrified by a few cicada shells.”
“Yes!”
Reassured, the boy finally reached toward the beetle. His small, precise fingers darted out and snatched it.
The longhorn beetle, as if struck by a bolt of lightning from a clear sky, flailed its legs in a belated panic—but the struggle was useless.
“I got it! It’s a giant one, Miss Somerset!”
Benjamin turned to her, his face radiant. His round eyes crinkled into happy crescents, and a wide, joyful grin stretched across his face.
Jacqueline’s own eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time she had seen the boy truly smile.
It was more innocent and luminous than she could have envisioned—a smile so infectious it could brighten the heart of anyone who saw it.
After a moment, Jacqueline closed her eyes with a gentle smile of her own.
“How very brave of you.”
Benjamin studied the creature with rapt attention—the twitching legs, the obsidian shell, and its formidable horn.
Every time the beetle’s legs scraped against his palm, Jacqueline felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine, but she fought to keep her composure.
“The next time a stray bug finds its way into my room, will you come to my rescue? I’m still working up the courage to handle them myself—not that I’m afraid, you understand.”
“I will, Miss Somerset! Just call for me!”
“You are wonderfully reliable.”
The boy’s focus soon shifted to a nearby cicada. His small fingers moved quickly, pinching the loudly buzzing insect.
Jacqueline tilted her head, wondering if the insects on the Preston estate simply lacked a survival instinct, or if Benjamin was naturally gifted at the hunt.
Eventually, she glanced up at the afternoon sky and signaled the end of their outing.
“Aren’t you feeling hungry? Let’s head back to the manor for some lemonade.”
“Yes, Miss Somerset.”
The boy, though clearly enjoying himself, didn’t offer a word of protest. He lifted the cloth covering his collection bucket.
Inside, a chaotic mix of longhorn beetles and cicada shells tumbled together. Only after he had carefully returned each one to its proper place did Benjamin briskly dust off his hands.
He looked up at Jacqueline, his brown eyes signaling that he was ready to depart.
“Very well—back to the house. We shall celebrate our successful return from this great expedition.”
“Yes, Miss Somerset!”
They walked side by side toward the manor. As they approached the grand entrance, a carriage emblazoned with the Preston family crest came to a halt in the driveway.
Benjamin immediately corrected his posture. He squared his shoulders, clicked his heels together, and lifted his chin with practiced poise.
Windsor stepped down from the carriage. Sensing their presence, he turned his head slowly. His cool, detached gaze brushed past Jacqueline and settled on the boy.
Benjamin’s shoulders went rigid. His face clouded with tension as he suddenly became acutely aware of his disheveled state and the dirt smudging his clothes.
It was an appearance hardly suitable for the future Marquess of Preston. His lips pressed together in a sullen line.
The spark in his eyes vanished instantly. Bracing himself for the inevitable reprimand from his uncle, Benjamin looked down at the ground.
He was terrified of disappointing his uncle again—fearful that eventually, the man might give up on him entirely.
But then—
“Welcome home, Lord Preston.”
Jacqueline offered a light, cheerful greeting. Windsor’s attention shifted back to her.
He pulled a pocket watch from his coat, noted the time, and spoke in a flat tone.
“I trust the afternoon curriculum is proceeding as planned, Miss Somerset.”
“Of course, Lord Preston. I’ve even managed to find time for a tea break.”
Windsor gave a curt nod and continued past them. William, waiting by the doors, bowed low.
“Welcome back, sir.”
Benjamin’s jaw dropped in sheer disbelief. He stared at the heavy front doors, stunned that his uncle hadn’t uttered a single word of reproach.
Slowly, he turned to Jacqueline. His light brown eyes were shimmering like stars.
Seeing the pure admiration in his gaze, she straightened her back and spoke with pride.
“Didn’t I tell you, Benjamin? Lord Preston has agreed to respect my methods of instruction.”
“Miss Somerset… are you perhaps…”
Benjamin’s voice was a hesitant, dreamy whisper. Jacqueline tilted her chin up, encouraging him to finish his thought.
“…a fairy?”
“Pardon?”
The question caught her completely off guard, and her poised expression slipped for a second. Benjamin, his voice trembling with excitement, hurried to explain.
“When I was five, I read a book that said fairies can melt even the coldest of hearts! Not that I’m saying Uncle is cold—I just… Are you a fairy, Miss Somerset?”
Jacqueline prepared a rational, adult response, but then she changed her mind. She pressed a single finger to her lips.
“Shh.”
“How did you know? It’s a secret.”
The boy’s eyes grew as large as saucers. Jacqueline looked around with dramatic caution before lowering her voice. Her conspiratorial look made Benjamin’s eyebrows fly upward.
“You mustn’t tell a soul. If the secret gets out, I’ll have to go back to where I came from. And I’d like to stay here at the Preston manor a while longer.”
Benjamin didn’t say a word; instead, he clamped his hands over his mouth and nodded frantically.
“Come now. If we move quickly, we’ll have plenty of time for that lemonade before your lessons begin.”
The boy continued to nod with solemn intensity, his hands still masking his face. Jacqueline bit back a laugh and led the way inside.
Regardless of how mature he tried to act, he was still only six years old—a child who could be swayed by a gentle white lie, and who likely still believed in Father Christmas.
His innocence was truly precious.
“Oh?”
As they passed the carriage, Jacqueline stopped. She had spotted a lone cane resting inside.
Tom, the coachman, was scratching his head with an embarrassed expression as he went to close the door. Seeing Jacqueline, he gave her a sheepish grin.
“He’s gone and forgotten it again.”
“I’ll take it in. I’m heading that way regardless.”
“Thank you, Miss Somerset. Much appreciated.”
Tom handed her the cane. Jacqueline gave it a playful little twirl, as if she were a fairy casting a spell.
Benjamin’s eyes glowed with even more wonder. Smothering another chuckle, Jacqueline walked alongside the boy.
“Of course, you must still be very studious during our lessons—that was part of my vow to Lord Preston.”
“I will.”
Benjamin nodded as if it were a sacred oath.
“But once classes are over, you are your own master. Shall we go on another hunt tomorrow morning? There might be entirely different creatures in the opposite garden. My books say that different soils attract different insects.”
“Really?”
The boy’s eyes widened as though he’d been handed a magnificent gift. He looked at her with pure, unadulterated devotion.
He truly believed she was a magical being—and she found she didn’t mind the title.
Jacqueline stomped her feet firmly on the welcome mat at the entrance.
“I never break a promise. And remember to knock the dirt off your boots before we go in—we don’t want to give the maids extra work.”
Benjamin mimicked her immediately, stamping his feet with gusto. His eyes were now brimming with absolute trust.
At this point, he would probably believe her if she told him she could turn sand into gold. At this rate, she might end up as the secret advisor to the future Marquess of Preston.
Not that she had any such designs on power.
“Young Master Benjamin! Whatever has happened…!”
Their triumphant march through the hall was cut short when Madam Ritz spotted the boy’s mud-splattered clothes and gasped in dismay.
Jacqueline leaned down to the boy’s ear and whispered softly, letting the cane in her hand droop toward the floor.
“I’m sorry, Benjamin. Even a fairy’s magic is no match for Madam Ritz’s scolding.”
The boy gave a dignified nod and a small shrug, signaling that he was prepared to face the consequences like a man.
“Don’t worry, Ritz. I’m going to change right now.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Madam Ritz finally ceased her fussing. Benjamin started up the grand staircase toward the second floor, with the housekeeper trailing behind him.
He paused to look back once, his bright eyes sharing a secret, knowing look with Jacqueline.
Jacqueline stood still, watching him go.
She found herself wondering—perhaps the true fairy was the boy himself. Hadn’t he managed to melt her own heart from the very first moment they met?
“Yes… that might be it.”
Jacqueline laughed softly to herself.
Dozens of carriages rolled through the gates of the Preston estate every day. Visitors who had fought for an audience with the Marquess arrived precisely at their appointed times.
With practiced, hollow smiles, they showered Windsor with endless adulation. Only after a mountain of flattery would they lean in and say, “I would only share this with the Marquess,” before revealing their true motives.
Usually, it was a plea for investment or a business proposal. Sometimes, it was a blatant request for a handout.
They didn’t actually care for Windsor; they cared for the title of the Marquess of Preston, or more accurately, the immense fortune attached to it.
Those who lacked the status to visit in person sent letters—pages filled with tragic tales and thick layers of praise.
Sifting through them to find anything of value was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Or perhaps, there was no needle to be found at all.
“Hah.”
Windsor let out a weary sigh, staring at the documents piled high on his desk. No matter how many he cleared, an equal number seemed to materialize by the next morning.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Windsor looked up from his work.
The door opened to reveal Jacqueline. She had changed out of her walking clothes and greeted him with a soft smile.
“You left your cane in the carriage again.”
She crossed the room and held it out to him. Windsor took it and leaned it haphazardly against his desk.
He expected her to depart immediately, but he was surprised to see her linger. He met her eyes.
“Is there something else, Miss Somerset?”
