The Trash Lady Who Stole the Duke's First Night
Chapter 40
“Gwen.”
“…Who’s Gwen? Is that that pretty boy’s name?”
“How should I know his name? Victor.”
“You introduced yourself to the chef, too? Are you planning to get on first-name terms with every man here?”
“Harry.”
Carlos let out an incredulous snort, a corner of his mouth curling upward.
“Harry? Harry Pearlbuck?”
“Prince Harry is far more of a true knight than the Young Duke of Schuppenhardt.”
Carlos looked at the pouting rabbit, tapping the armrest with rhythmic raps before stroking his chin. His hand gently closed over the rabbit’s wriggling wrist, pinning it in place as she tried to pull away.
“Aquitaine.”
“Yes.”
“Elio Aquitaine.”
“Yes.”
“Elio.”
“…Yes.”
“Elly.”
“…….”
“Elly. Don’t sulk.”
“…….”
“Sulking Elly. Aren’t you going to answer? I’m curious what you talked about with Nirta, Killian, Haill, Demian, and Gwen. Did you say, ‘I’m Elly. Please call me Elly, like a sweet peach’?”
Elio bit her lip and glared back at him. Propping his chin on his hand, the man was smiling with a strangely fierce expression, like a wolf king on the hunt.
“…Are you teasing me right now?”
“Yeah.”
“…You’re annoying.”
Carlos gave a low laugh and removed the handkerchief wrapped around Elio’s fingers. He gently pressed against her nail, which seemed to have finally healed, and spoke.
“What will you do now, Elly?”
“I never gave you permission to use my nickname. Stop calling me Elly. Now, I’m going back to my house… to the Young Duke of Schuppenhardt’s house in town.”
“There’s somewhere we need to go together. Madam Schuppenhardt.”
❖ ❖ ❖
Elio had meant to keep pouting at the man who made people feel petty over a simple name, but at his polite address, a laugh burst out of her.
She scoffed and firmly declined again, but the shameless man brought up his authority as her lord every single time, eventually dragging her along a forest path. It seemed so secluded that there was no sign of reaching their destination.
“……My lord. It feels like we still have so far to go. I’m exhausted, my lord.”
“Please stop looking for your lord, Madam Schuppenhardt. We’re here.”
Carlos tugged at his sweat-soaked tunic, peeling it away from his skin. Sweat glided down his smooth, sun-tanned skin, and the damp fabric clung tightly to the sharp contours of his back muscles.
Elio swallowed hard, her eyes glued straight to his lean waistline. She feigned interest elsewhere, glancing around at the dense foliage as she dragged her feet.
For quite some time, they walked under the blazing midday sun, the deafening drone of cicadas ringing in their ears as their boots crushed the dry clods of dirt beneath them.
A tickling scent of haystacks and fresh carrots drifted over on the warm breeze. While Elio looked around with a bewildered expression, Carlos pulled open a door with long strides.
“Neighhh.”
Dozens of horses, chewing on hay with loud smacks of their jaws, let out welcoming whickers.
“Pick one.”
He leaned against the wall near the entrance and spoke.
Elio blinked her wide, round eyes and stared at him. He had suddenly told her to follow him, and this was a sight she had never imagined.
“They’re horses kept for emergencies. None of them have an owner, so pick whichever one catches your eye.”
“…Are you giving it to me?”
Elio stared blankly with her mouth parted at the sleek, glossy coats of the horses, then bit her lower lip.
Is he already giving me a horse to ride when I leave…?
“I’m lending it to you. A knight needs to know how to ride. During the subjugation, you’ll ride with Salah. Practice beforehand.”
Watching him close his eyes against the wall as if drained by the sweltering heat, she stepped hesitantly onto the wooden floorboards.
“Uh… I still don’t really know how to ride properly. Whenever I rode Older Sister’s horse, I fell off every single time.”
Creeping slowly toward the horses, she muttered in a slightly brighter voice.
Is he giving me one because I’m a squire?
“They understand everything you say, so don’t go telling them you can’t ride. If a rider is a novice, horses will look down on you and give you a hard time.”
“…They understand speech?”
“Yeah. Speak with confidence.”
“No, I really can’t ride, so what am I… well, maybe I’ll ride better than I think. But still, I feel like I need a te-teacher… By the way, sweetie. Which number lady am I to visit here? I heard so many ladies visit the Duke’s Castle. Is this part of the standard dating course for the ladies?”
Elio asked the horse with a gentle, smiling gaze. Carlos let out a low, incredulous laugh.
“Learn how to ride from Grita. I’ll let her know.”
“Why should I learn from Sir Grita?”
“Grita is the best rider among the female knights.”
“Y-you ride far better, Sir!”
Her voice rising without her realizing it, Elio clenched her hands into fists.
He stopped fanning his sweat-dampened tunic and opened his eyes.
Elio hurriedly averted her gaze, patting down the row of shovels and tack boxes lined against the wall.
Not a breath of wind stirred inside the stable; only the damp, fermented smell of straw and the rhythmic smacks of horses’ tongues echoed in the air.
“I… I just thought you’d ride better, Sir.”
Brushing back his hair from his forehead, he gazed quietly at her. A horse, nudging as if begging for food, bumped against the small of her slender back. In that instant, the firm outline of his thigh muscles tensed.
“…I do ride well.”
“Right. Of course you’d ride well.”
Elio rattled open a drawer of the tack box, fumbled around uselessly, snapped it shut, and walked toward the horses.
“…I think this one is kind of pretty…”
She leaned down toward the black horse standing closest to her.
He offered no response, and Elio quickly moved on, coming to a stop before a pure white horse.
“…The black horse is nice, but I think I like the white one better. White suits me better, anyway, and this one looks like just the right size. Should I go with this one?”
Was it the smell of hay suffocating her, or was it the silence? She inhaled deeply and picked up a carrot from the feed trough at her feet.
“Do you want a carrot?”
“Do you want to learn from me?”
A faint chuckle sounded. Pulling his back away from the wooden wall by the entrance, he approached with quiet, measured steps. Elio hastily squatted down and pulled another carrot from the trough.
“…It’s only natural to want to learn from someone who rides better.”
Keeping her eyes glued to the horse chewing its carrot, she stroked its neck. The stable was humid, hot, and damp.
“…What, do you just not want to teach me? You said pretending to love me was easy.”
Carlos sat down beside her. He radiated so much body heat that she could feel his presence without even looking. Elio tugged at the collar of her training uniform and rubbed her sweat-slicked palms hard against it.
He slowly reached out an arm.
Elio flinched, looking up.
His hand grazed her sensitive skin. He pulled up the neckline that had slipped down, revealing the curve of her chest.
“Don’t tug at it. I gave you smaller clothes. Whose clothes are these?”
“I left mine at the house, so I’m wearing Salah’s…”
As Elio flusteredly clutched the front of her uniform, Carlos adjusted the shoulder seams and pulled it into place.
At his unruffled touch, Elio cast down her wavering eyes and gripped the fabric tightly.
She was always the only one startled and flustered. Lowering her head, she bit her lip. Seeing herself constantly scrambling on her own dampened her mood, and because the stifling stable felt suffocating, she let out a long breath.
…Why isn’t he saying anything?
Apart from the soft snorts of the horses, the quiet air felt awkward. As Elio curled inward, still clutching the front that kept slipping down toward her chest, she stole a glance at him.
Then, Carlos tapped the bridge of her nose.
“If I teach you, what will you do for me?”
At his teasing voice and lighthearted demeanor—suddenly crinkling his eyes as if he had been smiling the entire time—Elio blinked.
……I’m certain he wasn’t smiling a second ago. His gaze felt so heavy.
“You’re putting your lord to work. You ought to pay a price.”
He gave a wicked grin as he spoke.
Elio whipped her head around, her face flushed peach-pink. His constant habit of treating her like a child made her expression sink into a pout once more.
“You’re disqualified, Sir.”
“I’m disqualified? Me?”
Carlos let out a soft laugh and brushed back Elio’s sweat-dampened hair.
“Yes. Regrettably so. I have no intention of paying any price.”
Carlos tilted his head, gazing at Elio.
“Then who do you plan to learn from?”
“Sir Toby. Or Sir Nirta.”
“No.”
“Why not? It’s not your place to say, Sir.”
“Why wouldn’t it be? I’m your fiancé and your lord.”
“You told me to become a shameless piece of trash. What kind of fiancé is that? That’s just a thug.”
Come to think of it, there wasn’t just one or two things to be furious about. She plucked bits of straw and tossed them away.
“Just introduce me to a decent young nobleman instead. You said you’d introduce me, didn’t you? Next time, I want to meet a true gentleman. Not someone like the Young Duke of Schuppenhardt, but an innocent, young junior knight.”
Carlos gazed quietly at the woman curled up in a ball, then swept back his sweat-dampened black hair.
“Right. Not a man like me. A junior of mine.”
He gave a low laugh and stroked the neck of the white pony.
“…….”
“…….”
Elio glanced at the man, who was quietly lost in thought while gripping the soft golden mane in one hand, and hesitantly reached out her fingers. Dusting away the bits of straw that had settled on his boots, she added quietly:
“……It would be nice if he took after you by half, though.”
As if startled awake from his reverie, he looked at her. Elio immediately averted her eyes. Her cheeks burned so hot that she felt one could fry an egg on them.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter who teaches me.”
Elio changed the subject and shrugged as if she truly didn’t care.
“Sir Grita is nice too, but we’re not close yet, so it’s a bit awkward. You ride much better, Sir, and I’m more comfortable with you… Well, since you’re the commander, you wouldn’t teach me personally anyway.”
The words ‘Still, I’m your fiancée for now’ were swallowed down her throat. For some reason, it was hard to be shameless like she had been when she asked him to pretend to love her.
“Teaching horsemanship is part of my duties as well. Grita takes the women. I take the men.”
When the horse nudged Elio’s knee with its muzzle, begging for a carrot, Carlos took the carrot from Elio’s hand, tossed it carelessly to the horse, and dusted off his hands.
Then, as if to brush the dirt from Elio’s hands too, he took hold of her hand, placed it on his thigh, and gently flattened out each of her fair, pale fingers.