Chapter 15
The Duke did not say a word until they had cleared the rear garden. He simply walked to the lady’s left, maintaining the proper etiquette of a gentleman.
As they walked in silence, Rosalyn felt so uncomfortable she thought she might suffer from indigestion. The estate grounds were so vast that the main building still looked like a distant landmark.
She was in a state of utter confusion. From the moment the maid had absurdly spilled tea on her dress to this current situation where the Duke was graciously escorting her, it had been one bewildering event after another.
No, Rosalyn had been tense from the moment the Dowager Duchess sent the butler to fetch the Duke. When he appeared and sat across from her, she had grown so nervous that her fingertips turned cold; she’d had to constantly talk herself down just to avoid paying him excessive attention.
Don’t be conscious of him. Focus on the other ladies. Pretend he isn’t even here.
But when her eyes finally met his, she couldn’t escape the breath-stealing shock of it.
Rosalyn couldn’t fathom the meaning behind the gaze he’d fixed on her over the rim of his teacup. It seemed like a cool sneer, yet also a simple stare. It was eyes that made it impossible to distinguish between favor and animosity.
Those eyes. Green irises made translucent by the light. His pupils, constricted small, pierced her eyes like needles.
He had watched Rosalyn for a long time. After holding her gaze steadily, he swept his eyes downward as if checking her attire before returning to her face. It was an excessive stare, bordering on rude, yet she couldn’t even bring herself to feel offended. In truth, she couldn’t think of anything at all.
What thoughts could she possibly have had? She had even forgotten to breathe.
“Do you like it?”
Walking with her head down and her heart heavy, Rosalyn looked up. The Duke, who had abruptly thrown the question, wasn’t even looking at her. He was merely staring straight ahead at the Main Building as it slowly drew closer.
“Pardon me?”
“This mansion.”
He looked toward her as he spoke. Rosalyn focused on her breathing and met his eyes.
“I asked if Miss Fairfield finds this place to her liking.”
It seemed the Duke was finally ready to start a conversation. Perhaps he had been silent all this time because he was searching for a suitable topic. If so, it was a relief. It meant he didn’t necessarily resent spending time with her.
Feeling internally reassured, Rosalyn replied with an appropriate smile.
“Maxville is the most historic and magnificent structure in the North. Now that I’m here in person, it’s even more beautiful than I had heard. I doubt there is anyone who wouldn’t like a place like this.”
“You have a habit of making easy assumptions, Miss Fairfield.”
“…….”
“Don’t misunderstand; I’m not criticizing you. It’s a very common delusion to believe that others’ thoughts are the same as one’s own. You aren’t the only one who makes that mistake.”
Rosalyn looked at him, careful not to let her embarrassment show. The Duke continued without a moment’s hesitation.
“However, I suspect there are certainly people who would not like this mansion.”
With that, she could reach a conclusion. That look in his eyes was not one of favor.
“Just as there is someone here who does not like roses.”
This man does not like me. I don’t know why, but he doesn’t.
Rosalyn couldn’t think of a proper response. Nor did the Duke bother to continue the conversation or seek out another topic. Naturally, the two began walking in step again in silence. It was a small mercy that they reached the Main Building shortly after.
The ceiling of the mansion’s first-floor main hall was soaring and grand. Despite it being her second visit, Rosalyn couldn’t help but marvel at its magnificent beauty. She still wondered if anyone could truly dislike such a home, but she wasn’t foolish enough to bring the subject up again and risk deepening the Duke’s animosity.
Once inside, the Duke walked slightly ahead. Thanks to his manners in leading a guest to their destination, Rosalyn was able to see the man’s back. He didn’t spare even a glance at the beautiful main hall, seemingly unmoved by any part of it. It served as a fresh reminder that he was the master of this estate, born and raised within these walls.
The Duke led her a little way down the right corridor to a large door that, from the outside, looked no different from any other room.
Rosalyn felt a prickle of nerves as he opened the door and stepped inside. The long hallway was empty; it was just the two of them. The prospect of entering a confined space alone with a man triggered an instinctive wariness.
But this was the Duke of Windberg. Rosalyn did not doubt his reputation or his gentlemanly conduct, so she suppressed her hesitation and followed him inside.
The lounge was very spacious. The interior, decorated with marble, gilded mirrors, red velvet chairs, and couches, was elegant. As she cautiously scanned her surroundings, the Duke pointed toward the back.
“There is a washstand further inside. I will wait here.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Responding with gentlemanly poise, he sat in a velvet chair. Rosalyn turned and walked toward the area he had indicated. Her whole body felt stiff at the thought that the Duke might be watching her from behind. She walked inward, trying her best to ignore the weight of his gaze on the back of her neck.
In a space partitioned by a wall, there was a washstand and a mirror. Only after closing the door was Rosalyn able to relax. A wall finally stood between her and the Duke. Standing with her back to the door, a long sigh escaped her lips.
“Haa….”
After closing and opening her eyes, Rosalyn checked her reflection in the mirror. The skirt of her dress, just above the thigh, was stained reddish-brown with tea.
This cream lace dress was one of her favorites, a keepsake from her mother that she had tailored to fit herself. Please, let it come out. Rosalyn hurried to the washstand, turned on the tap, and pulled up the hem of her dress.
As she worked feverishly to scrub the stain, a belated sense of upset washed over her. She felt far more miserable now than she had when she discovered there were four other women invited by the Dowager Duchess—five, counting the lately invited Princess Mendel.
To have picked out her favorite clothes, taken the train, and come all this way only to end up looking like this. As she scrubbed the stain, scolding herself, Rosalyn was forced to admit her true feelings.
Deep down, she had been excited. She had thought that being invited to the Dowager Duchess’s tea party might have been her son’s wish. No matter how she looked at it, Rosalyn didn’t possess the qualifications to catch the Dowager Duchess’s eye. Thus, she had been possessed by the ridiculous vanity that the Duke might have taken a liking to her.
And yet he doesn’t even like me.
Suppressing her heartache, she rubbed the stained skirt with her fingertips. The fact that the Duke was waiting outside made her feel rushed. He already looked upon her with disfavor; she couldn’t afford to make him wait long after burdening him with this troublesome task.
In her haste, she soaked more and more of the skirt. By the time the stain was nearly invisible, an area several times larger than the original spot had become drenched. From below the waist to above the knee. Most of her thigh area was soaked.
“Haa, really….”
Rosalyn bit her lip anxiously as she looked in the mirror. She tried to smooth the fabric with her palms and dab the moisture away with a handkerchief, but of course, it was useless. After a few attempts to fix it, she decided to just go out. The damage was done, and she couldn’t keep the Duke waiting any longer.
I don’t care anymore. He’ll understand. It was his employee’s mistake in the first place.
Pushing down her shame and trying to look confident, Rosalyn opened the door and stepped out.
“Fortunately, the stain came out.”
Her tone was not just confident, but excessively bright. The man, who had been sitting calmly, seemed to flinch slightly. Rosalyn felt a wave of dismay, but she couldn’t take back the words she’d already spoken. She had no choice but to break the awkward silence with a strained laugh.
“It’s a bit wet, but it will dry in no time.”
She looked at him with a smile. As if it were nothing. As if she had nothing to be ashamed of or bothered by.
The Duke remained seated in the red velvet chair exactly as she had left him. In that position, he moved only his eyes, looking back and forth between her face and her dress. The moment his gaze landed on her wet skirt, Rosalyn instinctively tensed her thigh. It felt as though her bare skin might be visible through the damp fabric.
“That is a relief,” the Duke replied with a ritualistic, unchanging expression.
“Let us head back.”
As if he had been waiting for the word, he rose from his seat. Rosalyn struggled to ignore her wet skirt as she followed him. Leading the way out of the lounge, the Duke held the door for her. As she passed him, the proximity allowed her to catch the scent of his cologne, even stronger than before.
Then it suddenly occurred to her that she had applied rose water today. If he was someone who disliked roses, he would naturally hate the scent of them as well. Hoping that he wouldn’t find her perfume offensive, Rosalyn tried her best to walk as far from him as possible from then on.
