Previously
Dressed up and feeling a warm nostalgia for her mother, Cordelia joins Noah, who escorts her to a vintage Louise Theroid car he audaciously took from his cousin. Noah drives Cordelia down the hills of Narat, displaying the sweeping vistas and vibrant morning sea of the southern port city.
The motorcar sped down the neatly kept boulevard and turned into an alley of snow-white buildings draped in red canopies, where a mouthwatering aroma of fresh seafood and spices drifted on the air. Having eaten only a light breakfast while getting ready to go out, Cordelia felt the tip of her small nose twitch.
Bringing the car to a smooth halt, Noah Tudor offered an easy smile.
“Since you dressed up so nicely for our day out, shall we have something delicious?”
Cordelia knew well enough that in polite society, telling a lady she was pretty or beautiful was little more than a customary greeting.
Even so, she could not help the lift in her spirits.
Not wanting to seem unrefined by letting him see how thrilled she was by every passing word, she cleared her throat and gave a small nod.
He chuckled softly as though seeing right through her, but Cordelia feigned ignorance of that foxy smile. Today, she honestly felt she could forgive this man anything, even if he ridiculed her and tossed around his usual insolent remarks.
Escorted once more by his hand, Cordelia took a seat on the terrace, pressing down firmly with the tips of her toes to keep her feet from bouncing with excitement. Noah casually snapped his fingers to summon a waiter.
“I imagine Jan must have asked already, but do you have any allergy to shellfish? Any seafood you cannot eat?”
“Oh, no. I love anything from the sea.”
During Cordelia's childhood, fresh fish, savory clams, and shellfish were never lacking in her home. Her mother and Cordelia had both been remarkably fond of dishes made with seafood.
Unlike the empire's common practice of treating seaweed as waste, dishes made with sea mustard and sweet kelp were always served at the Marguerite family table, and mother and daughter had adored that savory, fragrant, and oceanic flavor.
Though expensive seafood had become entirely unthinkable after the family's ruin, a lingering nostalgia for those days still lived on in Cordelia's heart.
“Hmm, is that so?”
Resting his chin on his hand, Noah ordered several dishes. Hearing the fluent Roland tongue flow from his lips, Cordelia realized only then that this was an authentic Roland restaurant.
Her mouth watered at the rich scent of butter and fried fish fillets. Trying to keep her composure, she swallowed her saliva as discreetly as she could, but Noah Tudor had already pressed a hand to his lips and turned toward the sea, stifling a laugh.
“Why… why are you laughing?”
“Well, you look so restless, like a puppy that hasn't eaten in three days, that I wondered if I ought to toss you a chew toy more often.”
Unsure whether to take it as a compliment or mockery, Cordelia gave an awkward smile. Had she learned the art of conversation, she might have fired back with an elegant, polished retort, but Cordelia knew nothing of such things. So she merely gave a sullen reply.
“I'm not a puppy….”
“It was only a figure of speech. Besides, aren't you quite pretty for a dog, Miss Cordelia?”
His nonchalant answer left her utterly speechless. Cordelia rubbed her fingernails beneath the table and bit her lip, trying to think of how to speak to him as his gaze drifted back toward the sea.
Strangely enough, whenever he stared straight at her with those stunning eyes, she was at an absolute loss, yet the moment he turned his gaze away as if losing interest, she found it unbearable. She did not know why. It simply made her anxious and parched.
Was it because she feared the single year he had granted on a whim might slip away in an instant? She could only guess. In any case, the man holding her fate in his hands right now was the one sitting before her.
“Um… Lord Tudor.”
When she called to him, the eyes turning back to meet hers resembled crimson roses blooming beneath a sunset. Ah. He was undeniably dangerous, but how could such a face exist in this world?
“Do you not know my name?”
“I… do?”
“Then you should call me by it.”
Prompted by a tone reminiscent of coaxing a child, Cordelia complied without thinking.
“Noah?”
Startled when the very man who told her to do so arched an eyebrow, she quickly added—wondering if she had crossed the line:
“…Lord Noah?”
He shook his head and let out a chuckle.
“Whenever someone calls me Lord Tudor, it sounds as if they are speaking to my brother.”
So that was why. Having no siblings, she had not realized. Before she knew it, as she absentmindedly admired his features, an unexpected question slipped past her lips.
“Does your brother look like you, Lord Noah?”
“I suppose he does. We are twins, after all.”
“Wow.”
To think there was another person this gorgeous. Truly, the world was a vast place. Hearing her admiring murmur, Noah remarked cynically,
“Don't get the wrong idea. I am far handsomer.”
“Oh… yes….”
“It's the truth. Even Father was fonder of me.”
Though his expression remained deadpan, Cordelia somehow sensed a peculiar pride in his words.
He was a grown man boasting that his father loved him more than his brother, which might have seemed absurd, but perhaps thanks to his striking looks, it did not feel terribly strange at all. Though she did find it rather amusing and boyish.
Just then, the first dish arrived. Oysters Rockefeller: freshly harvested oysters baked with vibrant spinach, parsley, green herbs, rich savory butter, fresh cream, and cheese.
A flush colored Cordelia's cheeks as her mouth watered in an instant. She thought she heard a quiet snicker, but the oceanic fragrance filling her mouth and the velvet richness of the cream, brightened by a squeeze of tart lemon juice, only stoked her appetite. Oh, this is delicious! Smiling blissfully as she ate, Noah poured her a glass of white wine and took up his own silverware with practiced poise.
Unlike her helpless delight, his own silent verdict was merely that it was leisurely and decent to eat, yet he found himself eating more than usual. Perhaps it was because she made it look so enticing across the table.
Cordelia ate remarkably well. She polished off a Roland-style calamari tossed with fried octopus and shrimp drizzled in marinara sauce in the blink of an eye, followed by perfectly seared scallops, a rich lobster simmering in a bisque of crab tomalley, celery, onion, and carrot, and sea urchin pasta topped with sweet spot prawns. Dish after dish vanished, making one wonder where it could all possibly go in such a small frame.
As she happily savored a salmon roe tart stuffed with creamy fish fillet, Noah reached across to brush a breadcrumb from the corner of her lips and murmured,
“Miss Cordelia. Is it good?”
“Yes. Why aren't you eating more?”
Watching this young lady—no, this slip of a girl—busy chewing with her cheeks stuffed full, Noah replied languidly,
“Who can say? Watching you eat so diligently across from me, I wonder if there is any reason left for me to bother.”
Though it was merely his usual teasing tone with no real malice behind it, Cordelia instantly drew her shoulders in with a flinch and searched his expression, as if she had just been scolded for eating too greedily and far too much.
Relaxed a moment ago like someone watching a squirrel shell an acorn, Noah furrowed his brow at her jumpy reaction. At that, she set down her fork entirely, her eyes darting about as she froze mid-chew.
Rolling those big eyes again. Even for someone as devoid of sympathy as him, it was grating enough that he spoke in disbelief.
“Don't tell me you took that as a reprimand? I was complimenting you on your appetite.”
“Go on, eat. I don't make a habit of watching other people eat, but the way you chew is rather amusing and cute, Miss Cordelia.”
At Noah's blunt compliment, Cordelia hesitated before resuming her chewing. Unlike before, she was remarkably cautious now.
‘One can hardly say a word to her. Was she raised under constant abuse? Aside from being timid and frightened, she doesn't seem like someone brought up in deprivation.’
Noah offered an effortless, practiced smile as she glanced his way, though such thoughts ran through his mind. Then again, it was plain as day that a gambling addict of a father who would sell his own daughter off in place of his debts would never have raised the child properly.
Because Noah said little else until dessert arrived, Cordelia was able to finish her meal in peace. Watching her nibble on a sorbet topped with seasonal fruit, Noah spoke.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
Even while thinking he sounded an awful lot like a nursemaid looking after a child, Noah brought up the main topic without much fuss.
“Regarding the principal.”
“Cough!”
As she coughed violently, a handkerchief was held out to her. Cordelia murmured, “Thank you,” covering her mouth as she anxiously eyed the calm man across from her. What had been a delightful meal now threatened to give her indigestion.
“I don't do business at a loss, you see. But since you claim there is nothing to shake out of you even if you die, Miss Cordelia, I gave it some thought as a concession….”
Crossing his long legs, the man offered a faint, pleasant smile.
“I will purchase information instead.”
“Pardon…? Infor… mation?”
“Or it could be something else. At any rate, that will depend entirely on how you answer, Miss Cordelia.”