Chapter 52
“I understand. If that is your final decision, Miss Somerset, there is little else I can say. We shall speak again some other time. Farewell.”
With those words, Evan turned and headed for his carriage. Simultaneously, Jacqueline turned her back to the world outside and retreated toward the manor.
The sound of wheels fading into the distance followed her as she moved through the hallway. Her pace was hurried, but she came to a sudden, jarring halt. Unconsciously, she bit her lip.
Had she agreed to testify, Windsor’s legal standing would have been far more secure. Yet, in the end, she had found it impossible to give him that nod of consent.
Jacqueline could not bring herself to abandon her mother. No matter how exhausting or burdensome the woman might be, she was still her mother.
And yet, despite that loyalty, she hadn’t even summoned the courage to visit Parker O’Brien on her mother’s behalf.
“…Coward,” she whispered, the self-reproach stinging.
She forced herself to look up and resumed her walk with newfound resolve. As she reached the base of the stairs, she sensed a presence above. Slowly, Jacqueline raised her gaze.
Her eyes locked with Windsor’s as he descended. In an instant, her features stiffened.
The news would reach him eventually. He would learn that she had flatly refused to testify in his favor.
She wondered what his reaction would be. Would he view her choice as a betrayal? Would he find some way to sympathize with her plight? Or was it possible he had never expected anything from her to begin with?
A heavy, leaden sensation settled in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Even when she pulled her shoulders back and tried to draw a deep breath, her lungs felt constricted.
A profound shadow of gloom fell over Jacqueline’s eyes.
Seeing this, Windsor let out a sharp, mocking sneer. Jacqueline offered a curt bow and attempted to brush past him.
However, a frigid voice caught her, slipping through Windsor’s gritted teeth.
“What business did you have with Mr. Evan Knox?”
Jacqueline didn’t answer immediately. She came to a slow stop before turning back to face him.
Their eyes met again. Positioned a few steps above him, she looked down as he looked up, their gazes leveling in a tense, straight line.
She felt her shoulders tense instinctively. There was something deeply unsettling about the way he was watching her.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but Windsor’s demeanor had shifted over the last few days. Every interaction felt like she was being pulled down into suffocating quicksand.
Suddenly, a wave of heat surged in her stomach, and a storm of raw emotion swirled in her breast.
Her mother had begged her to betray Windsor, a plea Jacqueline had ignored even knowing the pain it caused her mother.
Meanwhile, Windsor had become cold and distant, treating her with nothing but icy glares and mocking tones.
And he knew absolutely nothing!
The memory of Evan’s respectful treatment only fueled her resentment toward Windsor’s callousness. Narrowing her eyes, she snapped back.
“That was a private matter.”
Her voice was sharp, a blade honed by frustration. She knew she was merely venting her inner turmoil on him, but she couldn’t stop the words from coming.
For a split second, Windsor’s brow twitched. A corner of his mouth curled upward in a joyless smirk.
“A private matter. Tell me, have you decided to resume your engagement to the man?”
Jacqueline’s eyes widened in genuine shock at the absurdity of the question. That shock quickly curdled into a piercing, angry glare.
Unable to stifle the retort bubbling up inside her, she fired back.
“Whether or not I choose to reconcile with Mr. Knox is my business alone, Lord Preston. It is no concern of yours—even if you are my employer!”
“If Miss Somerset’s personal entanglements interfere with Benjamin’s education, then I assure you, it becomes my concern.”
That wretched education! Education, always education!
Jacqueline felt a flash of white-hot fury. She didn’t even fully understand the source of her rage, but it consumed her.
Her vision blurred with red. Pushed past her limit, she cried out.
“If you are so obsessed with precision, how did you manage to get the time wrong? Benjamin’s afternoon lesson doesn’t begin now—it starts in an hour!”
Having delivered that verbal volley, she spun around with such force that the air whistled. She began to storm up the stairs.
Then, she stopped. Whirling around, she marched back down and shoved the spectacles she had been carrying directly against Windsor’s chest.
He winced slightly, his gaze dropping to the glasses. Jacqueline’s voice remained razor-edged, her hand trembling with heat.
“Since you are so meticulous about every detail, perhaps you should start looking after your own glasses!”
“You needn’t trouble yourself, Miss Somerset. A servant will see them to my desk.”
“Is that so? Then I suppose I’ve overstepped. My deepest apologies, Lord Preston! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lesson to prepare for!”
She turned on her heel once more, her face flushed with indignation. This time, she didn’t stop until she had reached the top of the stairs.
Windsor watched her go, his brow furrowed as he tightened his grip on the spectacles. Then, he turned and continued his descent.
They moved in opposite directions, neither willing to look back. Yet that very stubbornness was a testament to how acutely aware they were of one another.
It wasn’t until he reached the drawing room that Windsor finally stopped. He looked down at the glasses in his hand, a frown creasing the bridge of his nose.
He felt as though he had been struck by a sudden, violent gale. The wind shook him; the rain soaked him to the bone.
He was left with two possibilities: either his resolve would shatter under the pressure, or he would endure long enough to see the sun break through the clouds.
The storm currently ravaging Preston Manor showed no signs of passing. Windsor looked out at the clear, mocking blue of the sky and let out a soft sigh.
Reflexively, his hand went to his tie.
There were times when Jacqueline couldn’t even understand her own heart. She had always been a person of feeling, but lately, her emotions had become volatile.
Take her outburst just now—it hadn’t truly been worth such anger. Windsor had always been devoted to Benjamin’s studies; his words, while cold, weren’t factually wrong.
Besides, he was oblivious to what had transpired in Southfield. He had no way of knowing the conflict tearing her apart.
Logically, she had no reason to be furious with him. Her mind understood this perfectly. The trouble was…
“He’s been so strangely cold lately.”
“I’m sorry?”
The response startled her. Jacqueline blinked, coming back to reality. “Oh!” Her eyes met Benjamin’s. The boy was watching her curiously.
“It’s nothing, Benjamin.”
“Alright.”
Benjamin nodded and returned to his text. He was studying ancient script with the intense focus expected of a young heir.
Such knowledge was vital for a nobleman; since the holy scriptures were written in the old tongue, mastering it was the only way to truly understand the faith.
His pen moved across the page in a series of hesitant pauses followed by quick, certain strokes. Watching him filled Jacqueline with a sense of pride, though her brow soon clouded again.
The real issue was the distance Windsor had placed between them. It wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
His eyes, his tone, even the way he moved—everything about him felt chilled.
It was as if he were drawing a line she wasn’t allowed to cross, or perhaps he was genuinely angry with her.
But who had the right to be angry here?
Jacqueline’s gaze softened with a touch of sadness. No, she wasn’t angry. She was just deeply disappointed.
Disappointed that Windsor’s heart had cooled so abruptly.
He was still the picture of formal politeness, but the shared tea and the quiet dinners had vanished.
Even their secret lessons—the ones only the two of them knew about—had come to an abrupt end.
She didn’t understand why.
Perhaps… perhaps it was for the best.
Jacqueline offered the thought as a quiet internal whisper.
In all likelihood, she would end up choosing neither side. If she helped Windsor, her mother would be crushed; if she chose her mother, she would lose Windsor’s respect.
She was simply stalling, hiding behind the excuse of seeking a ‘better way’ while hoping the problem would vanish on its own.
What a coward.
She let out a bitter, self-mocking sigh at her own indecision.
“Are you quite alright, Miss Somerset?”
Benjamin was looking at her again, his face etched with concern. The little freckles on his nose crinkled.
“Oh? Yes, I’m fine, Benjamin. Truly.”
“Would you like to take a break before we go on?”
Looking into his bright, honest eyes—which reminded her of the glass eyes of her plush bear, Colin—Jacqueline managed a small smile. Benjamin seemed to relax at the sight of it.
“I wish Lord Preston were as gentle as you are.”
“Uncle?”
The boy’s eyes darted around, clearly struggling to reconcile the concept of ‘Windsor’ with the idea of ‘gentleness.’ To him, the two seemed fundamentally at odds.
But Jacqueline knew better. She knew the warmth he kept hidden beneath that stern facade.
Every time she caught a glimpse of it, it felt like a wonderful discovery—like finding a sweet cranberry hidden inside a plain loaf of bread.
With a light, playful sigh, Jacqueline added, “I know the truth. I know your uncle is actually a very kind man.”
“…Yes.”
The boy looked away, appearing as bashful as he did when someone complimented his artwork.
He returned to his pen, his expression sharpening as he dove back into the ancient script, seemingly eager to avoid any further personal talk.
“The problem isn’t Lord Preston. It’s me.”
The words were a mere breath, too quiet for Benjamin to catch. Yes, she was the issue.
She was the one who couldn’t make a choice, the one who carried a crushing weight of guilt.
In her desire to avoid hurting either her mother or Windsor, she was simply drifting in a sea of indecision.
Jacqueline’s expression darkened. She was the problem, and there was no solution in sight. The leaden weight in her heart only grew heavier with each passing hour.
Night was always the time when the mind grew crowded. Once the world fell silent, the thoughts that had been suppressed all day began to creep out from the shadows.
Usually, they were trivial things—regrets over old mistakes or impossible dreams.
She would find herself remembering the time she tore her skirts climbing a wall at school, or imagining her long-lost father returning as a wealthy sea captain.
But tonight, the silence brought a different weight.
Jacqueline shook her head and stared down at the empty parchment on her desk. She wanted to write, but her mind was preoccupied by her mother’s face.
Her mother’s voice rang in her ears, as persistent and irritating as a mosquito—no matter how many times she tried to brush it away, it kept coming back to haunt her.
