Chapter 16
The walk back to the backyard felt much longer than the escape had. Throughout the stroll, the Duke did not utter a single word to her. It was, without question, a rude way to behave, and Rosalyn was forced to accept the reality that he truly did not like her.
Should I be the one to start the conversation this time?
She had been agonizing over this since about two minutes after they left the Main Building.
While proper etiquette dictated that the person of higher status should speak first, judging by the Duke’s current state, it seemed he wouldn’t say a word until they reached the tea table. Perhaps he felt that since he had initiated the conversation on the way there, it was her turn to shoulder the burden on the way back.
And so, Rosalyn scanned her surroundings, searching for a suitable topic. She hoped that through conversation, the Duke might shed at least a little of his animosity toward her. To be honest, she felt it was somewhat unfair that he showed her such blatant dislike.
To lead a smooth conversation, one needed the knack for picking a good subject. A partner’s interests were always the best choice, but unfortunately, Rosalyn had no idea what interested this Duke. In such cases, the next best option was to talk about immediate surroundings.
A conversation about the mansion had already ended in failure, so that was out. What else could they discuss? Her eyes, darting around urgently, finally landed on something.
“Oh, there are violets over there.”
When she spoke tentatively, the Duke came to a halt. He turned his head to look at her, then shifted his gaze to where she was pointing. Rosalyn approached the edge of the flower bed and naturally lowered herself into a crouch.
Tiny blue flowers. The clusters of violets were quite lovely—enough to make her momentarily forget the discomfort the Duke caused her.
“Such a pale blue is rare. And they’re in such a large cluster. I wonder if they were planted intentionally rather than being wildflowers?”
As she asked, Rosalyn lifted her head. The Duke was standing tall, looking down at her. From this low vantage point, the already tall man seemed immense. Perhaps it was his cold eyes, devoid of any hint of warmth, that made him seem even more imposing.
His gaze pierced down at her relentlessly. Under that stare, Rosalyn felt incredibly small. She felt like a wildflower herself—one that no one had planted or tended to, existing without anyone’s interest.
“I wonder.”
Once again, the Duke showed no interest in conversing with her.
“I wouldn’t know.”
It was only when he gave that dry response that Rosalyn remembered. He had explicitly stated he had no interest in flowers. It was a ridiculous mistake born of nerves. She had been so tense that she’d lost her composure and spoken thoughtlessly.
She had been too desperate. Too eager to make a good impression.
“If you are curious, pluck a stem and show it to the gardener. He will give you an answer.”
At the Duke’s suggestion, Rosalyn looked down at the cluster of flowers at her feet. Then, she straightened her knees and stood up empty-handed. The Duke did not show the courtesy of offering a hand to help a lady rise.
“That is a kind suggestion, but I don’t think that will be necessary. If I tell the gardener they are between the daffodils and the roses, he will know. And if they aren’t intentionally planted, plucking them wouldn’t help identify the species anyway.”
She spoke politely with a practiced smile. Forcing a smile when she didn’t feel like laughing was a skill she had thoroughly honed through social circles. She had already dragged the poor flowers into her desperate attempt to talk to the Duke; she didn’t want to go as far as plucking an innocent blossom. She felt that doing so would only make her feel more miserable.
“To cherish even a single wildflower… Miss Fairfield, you possess a gentle heart.”
Rosalyn looked up at the Duke’s words. Though she was standing straight, he was still looking down at her from above. Even though she was taller than most women, Rosalyn felt smaller than ever before.
“Admirable.”
The Duke of Windburg offered his praise. Rosalyn knew it was merely a perfunctory remark. The green eyes looking at her remained ice-cold. Yet those eyes, with light passing through them, were so beautiful that they only made the observer feel more sorrowful.
The two stood there for a moment, facing each other. The daffodils had already faded, and the roses had yet to bloom. Light settled over the tiny, tightly closed buds. As the afternoon slowly waned, the transparent May sunlight was gradually thickening into gold.
From the moment he sat down in the dining room, Jered felt like he was caught in a trap. Knowing it was a trap and being unable to escape only made his mood fouler.
He felt he had sensed it coming from the moment the maid spilled tea on the guest’s dress—that this wouldn’t end with simply escorting the woman to the lounge.
‘It is time for a walk. You go with them too, Jered. That way, everyone will have a partner.’
The Dowager Duchess had made an unreasonable demand of him when he returned with the woman. A walk was out of the question, so he had declined with a suitable excuse, only for the Dowager Duchess to counter with elegant reproach as if she had been waiting for it. In the end, Jered had no choice but to respond like a gentleman.
‘I shall invite the ladies to dinner. I would be pleased if that compensates for my rudeness.’
Only after paying that price was he able to leave the room.
Since then, he had been pondering why his mother was pushing that particular woman on him.
There were two possible reasons. First, because she was a Viscount’s daughter. Being from the lower nobility, she would be relatively easy to handle, and thus, his mother might think she could mold her to her liking.
However, knowing Diane Glenn’s personality, that was a somewhat weak deduction. His mother was not a woman who would find it difficult to handle a daughter of a Duke, a Marquis, or even a princess of the Imperial family. If so, the second reason was likely closer to the truth.
‘Place that lady in the position of Duchess.’
Unfortunately, it seemed his mother had misunderstood him. She thought her son was interested in that lady.
“It truly is wonderful to spend time with such young ladies.”
At his mother’s voice, Jered set aside his thoughts. Dinner had been underway for quite some time, yet he still found it difficult to focus on the conversation.
“Having only a son, I have always envied mothers with daughters. Today, I feel as though that longing is being fully satisfied.”
There were six guests at dinner, all of them women. Sitting among them, Diane Glenn looked very pleased.
From the moment he announced he would hold a ball, his mother had been delighted. She seemed to thoroughly enjoy the process of gathering daughters of the nobility, judging them herself, and even conducting interviews with the carefully selected candidates. Thus, the fact that the Dowager Duchess was considering a Viscount’s daughter as a final candidate for a daughter-in-law, instead of the high-born candidates who met her standards, was quite a concession on her part.
Is she actually going to respect my wishes this time? After all this?
The more Jered thought about his mother’s ‘consideration,’ the more unpleasant he felt. He felt as if he were being profoundly toyed with. He felt played by these people, by the women here, and by this godforsaken situation surrounding him. He felt like a fool for being part of this, but the lack of an exit was driving him mad.
He couldn’t delay his duty to produce an heir forever. He had to marry. One of the women at this table.
“Ostrich feathers are certainly the most beautiful. They are so flamboyant that they catch the eye in any setting.”
“Bird-of-paradise feathers also go well with the dresses trending these days.”
“That’s true. Since fabric colors are quite subdued lately, the bird-of-paradise makes for a good accent.”
Jered sat in silence, pretending to listen intently to the ladies’ conversation. He had zero interest in which bird’s feathers they preferred for hair ornaments; in fact, he looked upon such talk with disdain, but he did not let it show. Showing contempt was a far cry from being a gentleman.
It was something that had to be hidden, no less than anger, hostility, or anxiety.
“Miss Rosalyn, which feathers do you like best?”
“I prefer egret feathers.”
“The same as me. Egrets have an elegant charm.”
“My mother used to say the same thing. She said the egret is a dignified bird that suits a lady.”
“It seems Miss Rosalyn takes after her mother. She must have been a very dignified lady herself.”
His mother was now openly showing favoritism toward her final choice for a daughter-in-law. At this table, the only people the Dowager Duchess addressed by their first names were Lady Mendel and the daughter of Viscount Andover. Thus, the other ladies from prestigious families, who originally held the advantage, would be hiding their sense of defeat, while the protagonist of this reversal would be hiding her happiness.
‘To cherish even a single wildflower… Miss Fairfield, you possess a gentle heart.’
Jered scoffed inwardly as he looked at the daughter of Viscount Andover, who sat some distance away.
‘Oh, there are violets over there.’
It had been a rather creative strategy. A noble lady who loves wildflowers. It made her seem modest and human. If her goal was to leave a deep impression on him in any way possible, the woman had succeeded. Though perhaps not in the way she had intended.
Of course, Jered had no intention of blaming her for her shrewdness. It was a perfectly plausible and understandable ambition. Every noble lady’s dream was to be a Duchess. Just as every politician’s dream was to be Prime Minister.
