Chapter 30
The Duke was said to have other plans. Rosalyn did not let her disappointment show. It was understandable; he might have had a prior engagement. She quickly gathered her thoughts and nodded.
“Thank you, Edith. Shall we go then?”
“Yes, my lady.”
She rose from her seat with a composed smile.
The Hall of Mirrors on the second floor was located at the eastern end of the building. With its long wings stretching out on both sides, Maxville followed the typical layout of a noble estate, but its scale was incomparable to Fairfield House. The Master Suite where Rosalyn stayed was close to the central staircase, so walking to the banquet hall at the eastern end took quite some time.
“How many rooms are there in the Main Building?”
She asked the question simply because the silence while walking down the long corridor with her attendant felt awkward. She was also genuinely curious.
“From what I know, there are over four hundred. If you give me some time, I can confirm with the Head Butler and let you know.”
“No, that’s quite alright. I’ll ask Sterling myself.”
Four hundred rooms. She wondered how many people it took to maintain them all.
Even if the vacant rooms were kept under dust covers, managing the rooms currently in use would require a vast amount of labor. She had been surprised to learn that Maxville employed three butlers, but considering the size of the estate, it made perfect sense.
There is so much to learn. This isn’t a household I can grasp in just a few days.
Rosalyn steadied her fluttering heart. It seemed that establishing herself as the mistress of this estate would require even more effort than she had anticipated.
Managing people cannot be done through the power of rank or status alone. To lead many, one had to understand the principles of the work as well as the workers did and grasp the inner workings of the household.
The relationship between master and servant was, in the end, a matter of dealing with people. To do it properly required delicate skill and sincerity. Nobles who failed to realize this were often looked down upon; they were prone to being deceived and manipulated by their subordinates until they eventually lost their very dignity. Taking command of the servants was the second task Rosalyn had to resolve here.
The first task, of course, was to improve her relationship with her husband.
“This is the Hall of Mirrors.”
Rosalyn stopped as they reached the practice space. The firmly closed doors looked large and heavy. Her heart pounded as the attendant opened them for her.
Would he be inside? The thought that the Duke might have arrived first made her feel a sudden wave of nerves.
The doors opened, and light spilled from within. It was the white glow of linen curtains covering the large windows. A man stood with his back to that light.
Black hair contrasting with the white light. Softly curling locks. Her heart began to beat heavily.
Rosalyn stepped inside the open doors and gave a slight curtsy toward the man watching her. The Duke greeted her with a nod of acknowledgment.
“Welcome.”
“Have you been waiting long?”
“About three minutes.”
He offered a smile as if to reassure her, then glanced at her attendant. The way he acknowledged Edith’s greeting with a look suggested a natural familiarity. The two must have known each other already, given that Edith had served the previous Duchess.
“You may step out while we practice. I’ll be too embarrassed if there’s an audience.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.”
The Duke chuckled as he gave the instruction jokingly. Rosalyn smiled a little as well. Thanks to that, the atmosphere remained soft even after Edith withdrew.
The empty ballroom was filled with gentle light. White linen curtains were drawn across every window, obscuring the view outside. It made the space feel isolated from the rest of the world—as if the entire room were floating solitary in the air.
The wall opposite the windows was lined with mirrors. Judging by the state of the glass and the gold-leafed frames, they were old. Dozens of relics. She could see immediately why this place was called the Hall of Mirrors.
Otherwise, the space was almost entirely empty, save for a piano and two vacant chairs positioned some distance away.
“This is the pianist, Mr. Manson.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
“It is an honor to meet you, My Lady,” the performer, dressed in a formal frock coat, replied with a polite bow.
Rather than correcting his premature choice of title, Rosalyn acknowledged him with a gentle nod. The Duke, likewise, saw no need to correct him.
After the brief introduction, he turned to her and asked immediately, “How are your dancing skills? For the record, I’m rather clumsy.”
“That didn’t seem to be the case at all when I saw you at the ball the other night.”
“How thoughtful of you to encourage me.”
“I was merely stating the truth. Actually, my own skills aren’t exactly brilliant either.”
“Well, let’s see then. Who is worse.”
He smiled and took off his coat. His white shirt and dark gray vest were tailored perfectly to his body, revealing the lines of his shoulders, arms, and waist.
It was her first time seeing him without his jacket. Did his frame look even larger because of the white shirt?
Rosalyn unconsciously curled her fingers. The Duke draped his folded coat over an empty chair and spoke.
“Shall we start with a Moderato?”
The Moderato was a dance where the two partners faced each other from start to finish, and it wasn’t overly difficult. It was a sensible choice for their first practice.
“That sounds good.”
At her reply, the Duke approached her. The two stood facing each other a short distance from the piano. At her eye level, she could see his silk tie—today, as always, a simple fabric without a pattern, perfectly knotted.
“Let’s begin, Manson.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
As the pianist answered, the Duke held out his left hand. His lightly opened hand was remarkably large. Rosalyn carefully reached out her right hand and placed it atop his. It was the first moment her body had touched the Duke’s.
Gripping her hand lightly, he wrapped his right arm around her waist. With her remaining hand resting on his shoulder, Rosalyn held her breath for a moment.
The scent of his cologne mixed with his natural musk was unfamiliar yet intense. She could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt. They were so close that she could feel the heat radiating between their chests. She thought she felt his breath brush against her forehead.
Her heart raced wildly.
She was far too conscious of her partner. Get it together, Rosalyn. You can’t focus on the dance like this. Take a deep breath.
Right on cue, the piano accompaniment began. To catch the timing of the first step, she had to look into her partner’s eyes. Rosalyn managed to lift her head and look up at the man’s face; he was already watching her, as if waiting for that moment.
His green eyes were very close. She could see the black pupils and the edges of his irises in detail. The green looking down at her was unusually pale. Perhaps it was the afternoon light, softened as it filtered through the linen curtains.
Rosalyn looked up into those eyes, forgetting to breathe. Several measures of the piano accompaniment passed during their eye contact. Then, at a certain moment, she took the first step simultaneously with him, as if possessed.
The timing was perfect.
Once they began to move, the dance flowed. Since they couldn’t stop in the middle, they had no choice but to see it through to the end. Rosalyn channeled all her concentration, reflexes, and composure into the dance. The rhythm of the music, the direction of movement, the correct steps.
Her years of training were not in vain, but she made a mistake near the end when her tension finally began to ease.
When the woman stumbled, the man faltered as well. The Duke also lacked the skill to smoothly cover for his partner’s error. It was clear after just one song that their skills were at a similar level.
“I don’t think thirty minutes will be enough,” the Duke said with a laugh after the first song ended. Rosalyn also gave a sheepish laugh, her face flushed.
“If you can spare an hour each time, I would welcome it.”
“We’ll see if there’s no improvement. For now, let’s stick to thirty minutes.”
He sighed with mock exaggeration as he replied. The smile on his face was more natural than ever. Neither his gaze nor the line of his mouth as he spoke was stiff.
The Duke had changed. It was enough for Rosalyn to feel it. Since she had accepted his proposal, since their marriage had been finalized, his heart had clearly shifted. The definition of their relationship as ‘fiancés’ seemed to have opened his heart to some extent.
Since the engagement, he had become decidedly kinder. He smiled often, made jokes, and was considerate of her. He no longer looked at her with cold eyes, nor did he provoke her with a mocking or sarcastic tone. Given this clear progress, Rosalyn couldn’t help but harbor hope.
As a fiancé, he was different than before. She wondered how much more he would change as a husband.
