Chapter 4
Jacqueline offered the boy a warm, gentle smile as she took her seat. The place at the head of the table remained vacant; she stole a quick look at the empty chair before focusing her attention back on Benjamin.
“I imagine you’re quite excited for your very first dinner here at the Preston estate,” she said.
The child remained silent, offering no verbal reply. He simply stared straight ahead, his small frame rigid with nerves.
A moment later, the dining room doors swung open again. Jacqueline glanced at the wall clock and her eyes widened slightly—the hands were aligned perfectly at seven o’clock.
Windsor entered, accompanied by the butler, but paused at the threshold. His sharp gaze flicked between Jacqueline and Benjamin.
“Well, since Miss Somerset has joined us, I thought a family dinner might be appropriate…”
The boy’s voice trailed off, sounding almost apologetic. Having sat down to eat later than his usual hour, Benjamin ducked his head even lower, looking for all the world as if he had committed a terrible crime.
Windsor’s critique was delivered in a flat, detached tone.
“When you speak, do so with conviction. Never let your voice falter at the end of a sentence.”
“Yes, sir!”
Benjamin’s entire body stiffened at the command, his shoulders bunching with tension. He snapped his head up to look forward once more.
“I believed we should dine together, given Miss Somerset’s arrival.”
“I shall eat later.”
Without another word, Windsor turned on his heel and vanished from the room.
Benjamin’s posture collapsed, a heavy gloom settling over him. Even in his silence, the depth of the child’s heartbreak was painfully evident.
As if the awkward encounter hadn’t happened at all, William began the service. One by one, the courses were laid out before them.
Jacqueline unfurled her linen napkin and smoothed it over her lap. She leaned in and whispered in a low, comforting tone, “It appears Lord Preston is simply avoiding me. We had a bit of a disagreement earlier today.”
She was trying to reassure him that Windsor’s departure was her fault, not his.
She pulled a silly face behind the butler’s back to lighten the mood, but Benjamin didn’t even crack a smile. Feeling a prickle of embarrassment, Jacqueline composed her features and reached for a roll.
Suddenly, a quiet, melancholy voice drifted across the table.
“Uncle never… eats with anyone else.”
Catching the underlying sadness in his words, Jacqueline’s voice grew even softer.
“Is that so? Well then, Benjamin, from now on you shall have me as your dining companion.”
The boy gave a small nod, though his expression remained a mask—neither happy nor upset. As Jacqueline bit into her bread, she couldn’t help but think that her tenure at the Preston manor might be more complicated than she had bargained for.
If nothing else, the food was superb. Picking up her spoon, she maintained her elegant poise while clearing her plate with uncharacteristic speed.
It occurred to her then that this was the first real meal she’d managed to eat all day.
Five hundred and fifty-two, five hundred and fifty-three, five hundred and fifty-four…
Staring up into the shadows of the ceiling, Jacqueline eventually let out a heavy, defeated sigh. She had counted over five hundred sheep, yet sleep remained frustratingly out of reach.
The day had been a chaotic blur. She hadn’t realized how much the stress had affected her until now, as she lay wide awake in the dark.
“It’s only natural to be restless,” she whispered to herself, trying to find some solace. “Everything is new—the house, the people. Honestly, I’ve done quite well for my first day.”
She let out a soft hum. “Perhaps a cup of tea will settle my nerves.”
Abandoning the hope of sleep, she kicked back the blankets and sat up. Experience had taught her that when the mind raced, it was better to keep the body moving.
Though the late spring days were as warm as a mother’s hug, the nights still held a lingering chill. She hesitated for a moment, peering into the gloom, before shaking her head.
It was late. The majority of the household staff would be asleep in their wings; only a skeleton crew would be awake to mind the house. They were likely dozing in chairs or narrow cots, waiting for a summons that might never come.
“It would be terribly rude to disturb them,” she murmured.
She pulled on a robe and opened her bedroom door, but stopped short at the threshold.
Jacqueline had been cursed—or blessed—with a vivid imagination since she was a girl. Tonight, it was decidedly a curse. The darkened corridor looked less like a hallway and more like the open throat of some great beast. Steeling her nerves as if she were walking into a lion’s den, she took one tentative step—then quickly turned back.
“What’s the matter, Colin? Are you frightened to be left alone? Honestly, you’re such a baby. Fine, you can come along.”
She hurried back to the bed, scooped up the teddy bear from her pillow, and tucked him firmly under her arm. Bolstered by her fuzzy companion, she marched back out into the dark.
In a long, dark tunnel, even the smallest bit of warmth provides comfort. Jacqueline felt as though she were still navigating such a tunnel—the precarious path a “penniless lady” was forced to walk. She didn’t know how much ground she had covered or how much further she had to go; she only prayed she wouldn’t stumble, for there would be no going back and no moving forward if she did.
To her relief, she found the kitchen without losing her way. Benjamin had pointed it out earlier, and a faint, inviting warmth radiated from the room. Even in this modern age of steam and steel, the primary law of a household remained: the kitchen fire must never go out.
Once inside, Jacqueline used the lingering embers to light an oil lamp. Though the glow only extended a foot or two, it was a sanctuary against the oppressive shadows. The “monster” of the hallway seemed to retreat just beyond the circle of light.
“Now, where would the kettle be?”
Navigating a strange kitchen proved more difficult than she expected. After some rummaging, however, she finally managed to get the water on the stove.
“Hmm?”
She paused, certain she had heard the soft thud of a footfall. She held her breath, listening intently, but silence followed.
“Just my imagination, surely.”
Hoo… hoo…
An owl called out somewhere in the night.
Frowning, she retrieved the tea canister. she checked the scent and began to measure out the leaves, only to freeze a second time.
The footsteps were unmistakable now—and closer. She spun around, heart in her throat, but saw nothing but the void beyond her lamp.
The beast’s maw.
The hair on her arms stood up. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to speak.
“Who is there?”
Her voice was thin and brittle. At that exact moment, a violent gust of wind rattled the windowpanes.
Eeeeeee…
The sound of the wind whistling through the frame mimicked a woman’s high-pitched wail.
“I-it’s alright, Colin. Don’t be scared. It’s nothing,” she stammered, pulling the bear tighter against her chest. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
Her mouth felt like it was full of dust. As she turned back to her tea—
A tall, dark silhouette stepped out from the shadows. Jacqueline saw it a fraction of a second too late. Her eyes went wide, her jaw dropping as she prepared to shriek.
“Kyaa—!”
Before the sound could leave her throat, a large, firm hand clamped over her mouth. Her heart skipped a beat. The terror of her nightmares manifesting in the flesh was paralyzing; she could already see her own grisly fate unfolding.
Oh, heavens!
As she began a silent prayer, a deep, cultured voice spoke from above her—a voice far too sophisticated for a monster.
“It is a bit late for screaming, Miss Somerset.”
“…Mmph-wuh?”
A muffled noise escaped her. The hand finally released its grip.
“Lord Preston?”
Jacqueline repeated his name, emphasizing every syllable as she squinted suspiciously at the figure draped in shadow. Part of her wondered if it were a creature merely mimicking his voice—she was certain she’d read a gothic novel with a similar plot.
Her imagination began to run wild again. Lifting the oil lamp, she thrust it toward his face to inspect him.
“Oh—it really is you.”
The tension drained out of her all at once, leaving her limbs feeling like lead.
Windsor winced slightly, pulling back from the glare of the lamp. He spoke through gritted teeth, his tone dry.
“And what, may I ask, are you doing in the kitchens at this hour, Miss Somerset?”
Jacqueline immediately moved the lamp forward again, matching his retreat inch for inch, as if terrified he might vanish or change shape if he left the light.
Windsor’s scowl deepened.
Then, Jacqueline’s expression shifted. Her eyes widened in surprise. Windsor watched her, his eyes narrowing as she remained silent. He wondered if she was purposely ignoring his question.
But then she spoke.
“You… you look remarkably like Benjamin.”
Her eyes softened into gentle crescents. Windsor stared at her in silence, his striking green eyes catching the lamplight.
“During the day, your hair is styled so severely with pomade that I didn’t notice. But it’s actually quite soft—almost like cotton candy. Just like his.”
Windsor’s brow furrowed as he tried to parse her meaning.
He had always possessed senses sharper than the average man—whether a gift from his opera-singer mother or a result of his military service, he wasn’t sure. He simply knew he noticed irregularities before anyone else. More often than not, he was already reacting to a threat before the official alarms were ever raised. His aide, Roman, once joked that he possessed a “sixth sense,” a comment Windsor had met with a chilling glare.
Tonight, his ears had picked up the sound of light, rhythmic footsteps in the hall—far too poised to belong to a servant. He knew immediately who it was and wondered why she was prowling the house in secret.
He had checked the time and risen from his desk. Roman had reported that she hadn’t made contact with the King yet, but Windsor was a man who lived by the rule of healthy suspicion. He preferred caution over regret.
“Next time, I would appreciate a bit of warning,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of a scold and a sharp look. “You gave me a terrible fright.”
Windsor’s gaze drifted downward. He felt his eyebrows twitch at the sight of the stuffed bear clutched tightly in her arms.
Realizing what he was looking at, Jacqueline began to stammer out an explanation.
