Translator: Nox

Chapter 9

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Jacqueline’s eyes rounded in sheer disbelief, as if the words she had just heard were physically impossible. Windsor, however, merely met her shock with a heavy, silent stare.

Against her will, Jacqueline found herself drawn into the depths of his steel-gray eyes. They were clouded with a profound melancholy, possessing a weight that felt almost magnetic.

She forced herself to snap out of the trance, sharpening her focus.

“As I explained, it was a pedagogical choice,” she stated firmly. “To properly illustrate the Fauvist movement currently in vogue, I felt a direct demonstration was necessary. Since the contract doesn’t dictate my specific teaching techniques, I can understand if Lord Preston was caught off guard. For that oversight, you have my regrets.”

“And why, precisely, was the wallpaper chosen over a standard canvas?”

He allowed the question to hang in the air, creating a pressurized silence. Though his tone didn’t rise at the end, the sheer weight of his authority was unmistakable. Jacqueline, however, did not flinch.

“Would the vast potential of the future Marquess of Preston truly be contained by a mere scrap of canvas? A spirit that large requires the expanse of a wall.”

Windsor remained quiet. He didn’t look defeated; rather, he seemed to be meticulously weighing his next words.

He was the picture of cold rationality—a stark contrast to Jacqueline, whose actions were often fueled by spark and impulse.

You knew this from the start, didn’t you? she reminded herself. You knew he would be a formidable employer.

“Was Lord Preston aware that Benjamin has a passion for ships?”

Jacqueline’s voice dropped an octave, becoming more intimate. Windsor watched her with a quiet, expectant intensity, signaling her to continue.

“He may be reserved, but he can speak for an hour without pause if the subject is the Black Fleet. It isn’t just warships, either—he is fascinated by trains, carriages, and anything else built for travel.”

“And how does this fascination serve his education?”

Her opening gambit failed to move him. If anything, the atmosphere surrounding Windsor grew even more formidable, causing Jacqueline to waver.

She realized then that it was time for a tactical retreat—a single step back to ensure she could eventually take two steps forward. The initial skirmish was lost, but the campaign was just beginning.

Adopting an expression of poised elegance, she faced him once more.

“This afternoon, I intend to begin his Northean lessons. Foreign languages are notoriously dry subjects; many students falter because the progress is slow. To prevent that, I plan to frame the lessons around the things Benjamin actually loves.”

“Am I to understand, Miss Somerset, that your artistic display this morning was a calculated precursor to this afternoon’s linguistics? That it was all intentional?”

“Naturally, Lord Preston. You didn’t think I was simply indulging in a whim for my own amusement, did you? As any educator knows, all subjects must be organically linked.”

Preston fell silent. For the first time, he seemed genuinely stumped. He tapped a finger rhythmically against his thigh.

Sensing her advantage, Jacqueline offered him a polished, professional smile—the kind she used specifically to signal that a meeting was over.

“Before we begin the Northean study, I’d like to review the materials left by his previous tutor. If there is nothing else, may I be excused?”

Windsor could only stare.

Her posture was that of a perfectly bred noblewoman, her gaze respectfully lowered—yet beneath that veneer lay a streak of pure audacity.

She was unlike any lady of the ton he had ever encountered. In his experience, a well-bred woman would never dream of defacing a wall with pigment. In fact, most wouldn’t even risk a stray drop of paint touching their silk gowns; such restraint was the very definition of refinement.

Was hiring Jacqueline Somerset a mistake?

He had reached this fundamental doubt in less than twenty-four hours. He studied her coolly, but Jacqueline merely returned his look with a soft, practiced smile.

“Unless, of course, you have more to discuss?”

For the moment, he was trapped. He had no way of knowing how long it would take to secure a replacement.

His social capital had essentially vanished; no one in his circles was willing to vouch for a tutor anymore. After he had dismissed the twelfth candidate, it had taken two grueling months just to find Jacqueline.

The clever nobles stayed away to avoid the fallout of his friction with the royal court, while the less observant simply labeled him an impossible master. He had been forced to recruit from employment agencies—a desperate move far beneath his station. He wasn’t foolish enough to expect a paragon of scholarship and grace from such a place.

He needed Benjamin to be the perfect heir. He refused to let the boy be slandered as the nephew of a “bastard-born” uncle.

Benjamin had to be beyond reproach.

To ensure that future, Windsor would endure much. After a long, heavy pause, he finally gave a curt nod.

“Given that this is your first appointment, Miss Somerset, I shall overlook this—once. Do not let such a lapse in judgment happen again.”

Jacqueline’s smile was confident; she had anticipated this exact surrender. She had read his predicament as clearly as he had felt it. He was stuck with her, at least until a better option appeared.

It was a stroke of luck for her.

“You are dismissed, Miss Somerset.”

“Thank you, Lord Preston.”

As she rose to leave, Windsor cast a seemingly casual glance her way, as if struck by a sudden afterthought. She paused, turning back toward him.

“I shall be sitting in on your afternoon lesson as well.”

“Very well, Lord Preston.”

That was no problem at all. Jacqueline gave a breezy smile and a brief, graceful curtsy.

“And one more thing…”

Clearly, he wasn’t finished. Jacqueline, already halfway to the door, turned back again.

“Count Greenwood paid me a visit today.”

“Uncle Walter?”

The name slipped out before she could stop it, her eyes widening in genuine surprise. She caught herself instantly, smoothing her features back into the mask of a refined lady.

“You mean Lord Greenwood?” she corrected herself gracefully.

Windsor watched her closely before nodding. Only a woman of true standing would refer to the Count so familiarly as “Uncle.”

“He asked me to ensure you were well looked after, Miss Somerset.”

A genuine warmth touched Jacqueline’s lips. The sharp, defensive edge in her eyes vanished, softening her entire presence in a heartbeat.

So, he was thinking of me after all.

“I see,” she whispered, almost to herself.

She looked up, meeting Windsor’s indifferent gaze as he continued.

“He spoke of you with great pride—your distinguished graduation from the Bristol Girls’ Boarding School, the glowing praise from your instructors, and your spirited nature. He admitted you were green, but insisted you would be an unparalleled tutor. I trust you intend to live up to his endorsement.”

“I certainly do, Lord Preston.”

With the poise of a high-born lady fully restored, Jacqueline gave a final, confident nod and swept out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, her measured pace broke into a quick, energetic stride.

“Northean is my forte,” she whispered.

The late spring sun streaming through the windows seemed to brighten her smile. Knowing she had an ally, even from a distance, filled her with a sudden, unshakeable confidence.

“Right then. Wish me luck, Colin.”

With the grim determination of a soldier preparing for a charge, she gave a quick nod to her teddy bear and marched toward her next challenge. Taking a steadying breath and fixing a bright smile on her face, she pushed open the door to the study.

“Good afternoon, Benjamin. Shall we begin our Northean lesson?”

Benjamin had been scrubbed clean of the morning’s paint and looked quite dapper. The only sign of his earlier chaos was his hair, which usually looked like a soft cloud but now sat a bit more flatly.

The boy sat perfectly straight, his eyes darting nervously toward Windsor, who was perched on the sofa behind him. His round cheeks were tight with anxiety.

Windsor’s attention, however, was fixed solely on Jacqueline. Even under his piercing, critical gaze—one clearly hunting for a reason to complain—she remained entirely unruffled.

In a voice that managed to be both gentle and authoritative, she began.

“Benjamin.”

“…Yes, Miss Somerset?”

Benjamin pulled his gaze away from his uncle and looked at her, his eyes full of effort. Jacqueline turned a page in her text and pointed.

“First, I want to see how much Northean you already know. Can you describe that ship on the wall for me in Northean?”

Surely that will prove the mural has a purpose, she thought.

The boy hesitated, stealing another look at Windsor. He was clearly paralyzed by his uncle’s presence. He was desperate not to fail, desperate to be the “perfect heir” Windsor expected, but the pressure was overwhelming.

Seeing the light fade from the boy’s eyes, Jacqueline added softly,

“It doesn’t have to be perfect. No one starts out as an expert. Just give me your best effort—that’s all we need to start.”

“Yes, Miss Somerset.”

Benjamin took a deep, shaky breath and began to speak in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

— “This is the Black Fleet of our kingdom. They are the Sea Guardians. There are more than a hundred sailors on the ship, and it has a large cannon at the bow for battle.”

— “Excellent, Benjamin. Truly well done.”

Jacqueline responded in fluent Northean. Benjamin’s face flushed with a shy, proud heat as he peeked at Windsor.

— “Thank you, Miss Somerset.”

— “Just a small correction: the word is ‘cannon,’ with a sharper ‘n’ sound. Can you try that again?”

— “Cannon…?”

The boy carefully mirrored her pronunciation.

“Wonderful. Your grasp of the language is much better than I expected. You’ve moved well past the basics.”

She made sure her voice was loud enough for Windsor to hear before switching back to Northean.

— “And where is this ship traveling to?”

— “To the great ocean. To fight pirates. When the pirates try to take the merchant ships, the fleet… they appear and destroy them.”

— “A better word would be ‘eradicate.’”

— “Yes, eradicate.”

— “Very good. You’re doing beautifully. What else can you tell me?”

— “Um… where else does it go? It goes to the… the unknown…”

Benjamin faltered, his confidence wavering as he looked back at Windsor. Before the shadow could fully return to his face, Jacqueline prompted him gently.

— “The New World?”

— “Yes! They are sailing to discover the New World!”

Benjamin beamed, nodding vigorously as if that was exactly what he’d intended to say.

— “How exciting. And what might they find there?”

To Windsor’s surprise, the lesson proceeded with remarkable fluidity. He found himself unable to intervene. Jacqueline’s command of the language was flawless, and she was skillfully tailoring the complexity to suit a child’s understanding. More importantly, Benjamin was more engaged than Windsor had ever seen him.

They were, for all intents and purposes, an ideal pair. Even if he were to fire her now, the odds of finding someone who could achieve this level of rapport—especially on short notice—were slim to none.

Jacqueline eventually glanced at the wall clock, closed her book, and announced,

“I think that is a productive place to stop for today.”

She finally turned her gaze toward Windsor. Her eyes were bright and challenging, silently asking, “Well? Do you have any objections now?”