Ch#47
Gerard Glenn needed nothing. All he desired was tranquility. A life devoid of both hope and disappointment. A life that appeared perfect on the surface. A life where, consequently, no one would ever urge or demand anything of him again.
To live that way, he had to do it. He had to try until he had an heir. He had to become a monster or a beast.
Every single one of these damned Tuesday nights.
“Ah,”
At the moment of climax, he grit his teeth. A gentleman could not let profanities spill from his lips like a common thug.
Steadying his ragged breath, Gerard rose. He hoped the woman gasping for air with her head turned away would stay exactly as she was. He hoped she wouldn’t open her closed eyes. He hoped she wouldn’t look at him again like she had moments ago. Before Rosalyn could even open her eyes, he climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom as if fleeing.
He turned the faucet and thrust his head under the gushing water. His heated body cooled instantly, but his head remained burning. He stood beneath the stream until that heat vanished completely. Until his own body temperature dropped so much that he felt a chill.
Even after his shower, Gerard did not return to the bedroom. Of the two exits in the dressing room, he opened the door leading to the drawing room and approached a liquor cabinet larger and more ornate than the one in the bedroom.
Tonight, too, he needed a drink. He needed the strongest whiskey, a moderate amount of darkness, and a space where he could be entirely alone.
Was it just a delusion to feel that something had changed?
Rosalyn held onto that thought until the moment she fell asleep. She lay in bed waiting for him to return, but as always, the bedroom door did not open until she drifted off.
Gerard had a habit of staying up late. Thus, Rosalyn had grown accustomed to not waiting for him on days other than Tuesdays. Sometimes she would wake up in the morning to see his back as he slept in his own bed, but most days she began her morning looking at an empty space with ruffled linens. Her husband was a man who slept very little.
Nevertheless, Rosalyn somehow thought he might come back early today, and her heart pounded when the sound of water ceased beyond the dressing room. She hid her heat-flushed body beneath the duvet and waited for the door to open. If he returned, she wanted to find the courage to ask.
Why did you kiss me then?
‘Please take good care of my wife.’
Gerard acted much more affectionate when others were present. Since the look in his eyes and his smiles toward her were things he never showed when they were alone, she couldn’t help but know that his tenderness was for show.
‘Are you really going to send those photos to the newspapers?’
‘My aides thought it would be beneficial.’
So that kiss must have been an extension of such calculations. Yet the reason she wanted to ask him anyway was that she couldn’t let go of a shred of expectation. Because there might be another reason. Because perhaps he simply wanted to do it.
Because he wanted to become intimate. Because he wanted to get closer.
Because now, just a little bit, he might like her.
“So, did you find out what the fire marshals are doing?”
Rosalyn was shaken from her thoughts by Diane Glenn’s question. After blinking her eyes, which had been staring blankly at her teacup, she naturally lifted her head and smiled.
“Yes, Mother. I’m told they are also handling weapon maintenance.”
“Weapon maintenance? How interesting.”
“There are many weapons among the artifacts stored in the annex. It happened that they needed extra hands there, so the two of them were trained as assistants. They clean the old firearms and have to regularly polish the swords and armor. It’s work that requires a lot of devotion.”
“One must put in devotion to preserve precious things.”
“You’re right.”
Agreeing, Rosalyn set her teacup down with a soft click.
The place where the two sat facing each other was the summer dining room. Rosalyn knew the Dowager Duchess loved this room the most and used it frequently from late spring to early autumn. Since Diane Glenn was from the South, she often spoke of how suffocating the North’s long winters could be.
As the thought occurred to her, Rosalyn shifted the topic.
“Mother. Why don’t you spend the winter in Isen? Everyone with a townhouse in the capital does so. Is the townhouse uncomfortable?”
Diane Glenn gazed quietly at her daughter-in-law, who asked so affectionately, before speaking with a faint smile.
“Didn’t Gerard tell you?”
She continued.
“We hardly ever stay in that townhouse.”
“Why is that?”
“Because of pride.”
A peculiar smile played on the Dowager Duchess’s lips. Pride. Rosalyn waited for an explanation for those mysterious words.
“The townhouse in Isen was a gift from the First Empress. After the Glenn family surrendered to the Emperor and received the title of Duke, the Empress gave it to them to soothe their discontent. It was a gift for the sake of friendship, but the stubborn men of this family viewed it as a humiliation. They still do. Even though three hundred years have passed.”
After her brief explanation, Diane Glenn let out a small laugh and shook her head. Her elegantly pinned platinum-blonde hair shimmered like moonlight.
“A man’s pride is like a child’s. It’s utterly childish. Don’t children act even more stubborn just to protect their own ego? It’s no different from that.”
“My younger brothers were like that too.”
“My sons were the same.”
Rosalyn laughed along. Her mother-in-law, who was of imperial blood, was a difficult person to deal with, but it wasn’t as if they had nothing in common.
“At any rate, consider that townhouse as something we rarely use. We only stay there for a few days during the Sun Festival—a week at most.”
“But you are from there, Mother. Isn’t it inconvenient for you when you have business in the capital?”
“It isn’t inconvenient at all. I can simply stay at the Imperial Palace.”
Rosalyn was inwardly surprised by the casual tone. A relative’s estate would be one thing, but the Imperial Palace was an option she hadn’t dared to imagine.
“You haven’t been to the palace yet, have you?”
“Not yet.”
“You’ll get to go next spring.”
The first week of March was the period of the Sun Festival, the anniversary of the nation’s founding, and nobles from all over the empire attended the grand banquet held at the Imperial Palace. Since she was now the Duchess, she would naturally be invited.
“You’ll like it. Trissen’s Imperial Palace is a magnificent place.”
Diane Glenn smiled proudly at her daughter-in-law.
“It pained me that Gerard went alone every year, but he won’t be lonely next year.”
Rosalyn returned the smile. The summer dining room was filled with bright sunlight, making the Dowager Duchess’s green eyes sparkle like new shoots.
Those beautiful green eyes. Rosalyn gazed at that color—the exact same as her husband’s—with a distant feeling in her heart.
When she had locked eyes with him in bed last night, she was certain she had seen something. Unlike other Tuesday nights, Gerard hadn’t touched her immediately. Between the strange silence and the void, she felt his gaze.
Even though her eyes had been closed, she felt it clearly. So she opened them, and their gazes met.
Those eyes. In the eyes of the man looking down at her, Rosalyn saw something unfamiliar. The emotion she felt at that moment was similar to the pang in one’s heart when seeing something fragile—the tenderness she felt toward delicate seedlings or her young siblings.
There is a certain poignancy that weak things evoke. Seeing such things makes one want to care for them and make them strong. Rosalyn was a person drawn to the soft and weak rather than the strong, but she never expected to feel such an emotion toward her husband of all people.
Why did you have those eyes? Or have you always looked at me like that, and I just never knew because I always had my eyes closed?
Bang!
A loud gunshot echoed from a distance, making Rosalyn lift her head. She turned her face slightly toward the north. She knew this sudden gunfire was coming from the northern grasslands. She also knew it would continue for dozens of minutes.
“It seems the gentlemen have started a wager again.”
“I suppose dinner this evening will be another bird dish.”
Diane Glenn quipped, and the two laughed together.
Gerard enjoyed shooting. He had set up a shooting range on the grounds and enjoyed a game of shooting down poultry raised for the purpose. On days when he invited guests for a wager, the atmosphere at dinner was exceptionally good, and the pheasants and quails sacrificed as targets appeared on the table.
“I wonder how often he’ll be away from the mansion once autumn comes. He’s like that even when it’s not hunting season.”
“You needn’t worry about that. Gerard doesn’t go out hunting.”
“Is that so? Does he dislike hunting?”
Rosalyn tilted her head in surprise. A Duke who didn’t go hunting. For noblemen, hunting was the ultimate entertainment and social activity. Her father and brothers also looked forward to September and October, the hunting season, every year.
