Chapter 58
“I have placed the royal attorney under surveillance.”
“Oh…”
A faint, wispy sigh escaped Jacqueline. She looked down, her lashes casting small shadows against her cheeks.
She couldn’t help but wonder how Windsor had felt when the reports reached him.
What had crossed his mind when he learned that Jacqueline—who had supposedly rushed to Southfield to tend to her dying mother—was actually holding secret meetings with the royal attorney?
Only now did the icy distance in his recent gaze make sense. She finally understood him.
Though they were opposites in every conceivable way, speaking entirely different languages of the soul, in this singular moment, she saw him clearly.
“I… I believe I have caused you pain, Lord Preston.”
Windsor’s eyes narrowed at her admission. He seemed to mentally replay her words, his expression shifting into one of genuine bewilderment, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.
“I offer you my sincerest apologies, My Lord.”
Jacqueline kept her focus on the handkerchief she was twisting between her fingers. She suspected that every time she looked at this scrap of fabric in the future, she would be reminded of the wound she had inflicted upon him.
She would also remember the sting of his coldness and how much it had hurt her in return.
“There is no need for apologies, Miss Somerset. It was a simple lapse in communication between us.”
Jacqueline slowly raised her eyes to meet his. Even a man forged of iron, it seemed, was capable of being hurt. The sting of betrayed trust was a universal ache, even for him.
A small, quiet smile touched the corners of her mouth.
“I know the hour for tea has technically passed… but would you care to join me for a cup? That is, if your schedule allows it.”
“I am not busy.”
The response came so instantly that Windsor inwardly winced, wondering if he had sounded far too eager. Jacqueline merely nodded, her smile widening.
“Then I shall send for Benjamin.”
“Please do.”
The gale had died down, leaving the waters still and glass-like. The vessel was safe, its colors snapping gently in a light breeze.
Yet Windsor was under no illusions of victory. He had survived the tempest only because the storm itself had chosen to show mercy.
As he rose, he made a silent vow never to underestimate the power of such natural forces again. A long-held breath finally left him in a sigh of relief.
Benjamin gripped his glass of lemonade with both hands, pressing the rim to his lips and taking tiny, performative sips. His eyes darted back and forth, watching Jacqueline beside him and his uncle sitting across the table.
“The weather is quite pleasant today. I expect the true summer heat will arrive any day now.”
“I suspect you are right.”
“Which is why I had a thought—perhaps a stroll through the park with Benjamin this Sunday? We should take advantage of the outdoors before it becomes too stifling.”
“An outing to the park?”
“Precisely.”
Jacqueline nodded, casting a quick glance at Benjamin before leaning in toward Windsor. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as if shielding the boy from the weight of adult concerns.
“Wouldn’t it bolster our position to present the image of a devoted uncle and his nephew to the public?”
Of course, Benjamin’s ears were sharp, and he caught every syllable.
The boy was well aware that a legal battle over his future was looming. The newspapers had been saturated with the story for weeks, and Benjamin had been an adept reader since the age of three.
He knew, even if the adults around him insisted on maintaining a fragile facade of normalcy and calm.
So, Benjamin played his part, pretending to be oblivious even as anxiety gnawed at him. The thought of being torn away from his uncle and handed over to a grandfather he had never met terrified him.
Benjamin had lost his mother at birth and his father two years ago. Just as the world had felt most empty, a man claiming to be his uncle had appeared.
Because of that man, he was no longer adrift.
In truth, Benjamin had always known who he was. His father had spent many afternoons telling him stories about the man in the clippings.
“The man in this picture is your uncle, Benjamin.”
At the time, Benjamin had looked at the stern, unyielding face in the newsprint with suspicion. “Is my uncle the ‘Angma’?” he had asked, his eyes welling with tears.
“‘Angma’? Ah… the ‘Devil of the Black Fleet.’ My word, reading already? You truly are a clever boy, Benjamin—just like your father.”
Normally, such a compliment would have made him beam, but Benjamin remained unsettled. He turned his head, trying to escape the piercing gaze of the man in the photograph.
“That is a name used only by pirates,” his father explained.
“Pirates?”
“Your uncle is a legendary commander of the navy. He hunts those who threaten our kingdom’s reach. He once faced ten pirate ships alone to save our people. He is a hero.”
“A hero!”
Benjamin looked at the photo again. The sternness didn’t look like cruelty anymore; it looked like courage. His uncle was a champion of the realm, and the boy felt his chest swell with borrowed pride.
“He is a man who cannot be broken, no matter the hardship. He has been that way since he was a boy.”
“Oh.”
Benjamin stopped listening to the stories and simply stared at his uncle’s indifferent face.
“If I am ever gone, your uncle will be there for you. He would never ignore my final wish. Windsor… unlike me, he is a man who will stay.”
From that day on, Benjamin hunted for any mention of his uncle in the papers. Even when the words were too complex, he felt a sense of belonging knowing such a great man was his kin.
He also knew he was a burden—a sudden weight dropped into his uncle’s life.
But he didn’t want to leave. He would take his stern, silent uncle over a distant King any day.
To stay here, I must be the perfect Preston heir, Benjamin resolved silently.
Windsor gave a curt nod. “I will consult my calendar.”
“Wonderful. I hope you find the time.”
Jacqueline turned her attention to the boy. When their eyes met, she gave him a soft, radiant smile. This time, she leaned toward Benjamin, pitching her voice low so as not to be overheard by Windsor—a secret just for the two of them.
“I’m a bit late, but I’ve kept my promise, haven’t I?”
“Yes, but… Miss Somerset?”
Benjamin looked at her with an intensity that suggested a burning question. Jacqueline waited patiently.
“Yes, Benjamin? What is it?”
“Are you and Uncle friends again?”
Jacqueline flinched, her eyes darting away as a faint blush crept up her neck. “Yes… fortunately, we are.”
Benjamin’s expression became incredibly grave. He set his lemonade down with meticulous care, as if preparing to discuss a matter of national security.
“Did the two of you go looking for cicada shells without me?”
“…What?”
Jacqueline blinked, seeing the genuine look of betrayal beginning to form on the boy’s face. Then, she couldn’t help it.
“Ahahaha!”
She erupted into a bright peal of laughter. Benjamin looked baffled, and his uncle looked equally lost; Windsor froze with his teacup halfway to his lips, staring at her in confusion.
Wiping a tear of mirth from her eye, Jacqueline looked at the boy with immense tenderness.
“Benjamin, may I give you a hug? You can say no, of course. I won’t be offended.”
“Um… alright.”
After a moment of shy contemplation, Benjamin nodded. Jacqueline immediately pulled him into a warm, firm embrace.
The boy’s eyes went wide, and his arms hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure of where to land. It wasn’t that he disliked the contact; he just had no frame of reference for it.
When had he last been held?
He searched his memory, but found nothing. His mother was a ghost, and his father had been too frail for such vigor. And Windsor…
Windsor was not a man of embraces.
The heat of another person felt strange at first, but slowly, the tension bled out of him. It was a lovely sensation—warm, solid, and safe. He felt as though he could fall asleep right there.
His small hands tentatively gripped Jacqueline’s dress, and in response, she held him even tighter.
“Oh…”
Benjamin let out a small, embarrassed sound when he caught Windsor watching them with an unreadable expression.
Does this make me look like a baby? Will he think I’m a poor heir?
He was terrified of disappointing his guardian, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the warmth. Finally, he simply tucked his face into Jacqueline’s shoulder, hiding from his uncle’s sight. Windsor’s gaze remained fixed on them for a long time.
Jacqueline eventually looked up, her expression softening as she watched Windsor sip his tea with his usual grace. Sensing her gaze, he raised an eyebrow.
“You have no flaws,” she said, answering his silent question. “You are perfect.”
“The result of a very capable governess, I’m sure.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Jacqueline gave a mock-haughty nod, which earned her a dry, short chuckle from Windsor.
Startled by the rare sound of his amusement, Jacqueline smiled back. A sense of genuine peace finally filled the room.
Lately, Jacqueline found her own emotions increasingly difficult to navigate. Being with Windsor brought her a sense of profound tranquility, yet he was also the only person who could make her pulse race with nerves. He was both the harbor and the gale.
What was this strange, contradictory feeling?
“Miss Somerset, you are truly the most persistent nagger I have ever met. Though, I suppose I must admit you are usually right.”
“Calling my guidance ‘nagging’? I only say these things because I care for your well-being, Lord Pres—”
She cut herself off. Her eyes widened, and she suddenly clapped her hands together. “That’s it! That’s the answer!”
Windsor frowned at her sudden outburst, but Jacqueline was far away in her own thoughts.
Nagging! That was the missing piece!
The perfect solution to the writer’s block that had paralyzed her manuscript had just fallen into her lap. As she sat there, glowing with her discovery, the door opened and William stepped inside, approaching Windsor.
“A visitor has arrived, My Lord.”
“A guest?”
Windsor’s brow furrowed. He didn’t recall any appointments for this hour.
“Yes, My Lord. A Miss Megan Wilson.”
