Ch#48
“Jared loves hunting. When his elder brothers were alive, they used to go out every year for bear and reindeer. They would camp out for days at a time.”
“Then why now…?”
“Because hunting requires riding a horse.”
Rosalyn didn’t immediately understand what the Dowager Duchess meant. It was only after staring blankly at her face for a moment that the realization struck her.
Ah. I see.
“The Duke’s body is far too precious now to be used as collateral for entertainment, don’t you think?”
Listening to Diane’s aristocratic tone, Rosalyn reflected on her words.
Come to think of it, she had never once seen Jared ride a horse. Within the estate grounds, he always walked or took a car, and whenever he went out, he was accompanied by at least three attendants, including bodyguards.
Until now, she had thought that excessive security was merely a formality to emphasize the Duke’s dignity. To think it was all forced upon him.
“My son has a very strong sense of responsibility. He knows well what duties he has and what role he must play. He might complain, but he cannot turn away from them.”
The Dowager Duchess continued in a low voice. Rosalyn understood the firm intent behind that calm tone.
Jared had to give up his freedom until his duties were fulfilled. He could not do what he wanted until he completed the role required of him. Instead of mounting a horse and racing through the hunting grounds, he had to be content with shooting poultry at home.
“It is a pitiful thing. Don’t you agree, Rosalyn?”
Diane Glenn’s green eyes turned toward her. Rosalyn knew what those beautiful, stern eyes were saying. To liberate her pitiful husband, she had to fulfill her role. It was her duty to strip away the shackles that bound him.
Until the Duchess produced an heir, the Duke could not be free.
“You are right, Mother.”
Rosalyn had to agree once again. She couldn’t tell which felt heavier: her sympathy for her husband or the weight of the pressure.
Bang!
A gunshot echoed from the north, sounding much louder than before.
Rosalyn quietly lifted the pot and refilled the Dowager Duchess’s teacup. Once the afterimage of the gunshot faded, silence returned to the surroundings. Her own cup was still half-full, the reddish tea having gone nearly cold.
Knock, knock.
After knocking on the office door, Rosalyn straightened her posture. She waited with her shoulders back and spine straight, but there was no answer. She knocked again, but still, no response came.
He’s not inside.
Even as she thought that, Rosalyn remained standing there.
Could I just step inside for a moment? I could wait for him there.
It wasn’t an urgent matter, and it wasn’t even something she needed to deliver in person, but since she had come all this way using it as an excuse, she didn’t want to turn back now.
She hesitated before the door for a moment, but her internal debate didn’t last long. The fact that she had never once been to her husband’s office spurred her on further. Eventually, Rosalyn opened the closed door and stepped inside.
There were three offices for the Duke within the mansion, but the one Jared primarily used was here, in the west wing of the second floor. It wasn’t far from the master bedroom and was in the opposite direction of the drawing room Rosalyn used as her workspace.
She had vaguely imagined a vast and grand space, but seeing it in person, it was unexpectedly simple.
A large desk and built-in bookshelves against the wall sat directly ahead. In front of the fireplace were an armchair, a sofa for guests, and a tea table. The furniture was all mahogany—even the legs of the leather-upholstered armchair were mahogany.
There were no unnecessary items besides the furniture. There wasn’t a single painting hanging, let alone a vase or a potted plant. Perhaps the only decorative elements were the books packed into the built-in shelves.
Rosalyn slowly walked around the space, which seemed strictly designed for work. The entire room was permeated with a familiar scent. She had smelled it the moment she entered. The unique fragrance that emanated from Jared. A scent like a cold winter forest.
Rosalyn knew the scent was cypress. She knew now what perfume her husband used. She had found out through Edith because she was too embarrassed to ask him directly, but simply knowing the identity of the fragrance had made her feel wonderful.
Every time she discovered a fact about Jared that she hadn’t known before, Rosalyn felt a small thrill. She was happy, feeling as though she had moved one step closer to him. She was curious about everything, from trivial things like the main ingredients of his perfume to more profound and meaningful details. She wanted to know what kind of person he was and what he was thinking.
‘Jared loves hunting. When his elder brothers were alive, they used to go out every year for bear and reindeer.’
He rarely spoke about his past. He didn’t seem to care for stories of the distant past or his childhood, either. It was likely because they reminded him of his brothers. They would have been in every memory. Rosalyn could fully understand that.
He spoke even less of the time after his brothers died. He never even mentioned the years leading up to now—the three years of his life since becoming the Duke.
The deaths of his brothers were such a great tragedy to him that it seemed to overshadow his entire life. Rosalyn couldn’t ask about the time before or after that event, which meant she couldn’t access the whole of the man named Jared.
He probably just needs time. After a while longer, he might be able to talk about it. She had no choice but to soothe herself with that thought.
Rosalyn moved from the center of the office toward the desk. She brushed her fingertips over the clean desk surface and touched the fountain pen, the ink bottle, and the blotter. She pictured him sitting here, using these things. The images were painted as vividly and naturally as if they were right before her eyes.
As she was looking at the desk, she raised her head and noticed the books filling the shelves behind the chair.
There were three large, magnificent libraries in the main building, but they were all common areas open to the family and guests alike. On the other hand, the books here belonged to the Duke. They were his alone, shared with no one else. Rosalyn couldn’t help but approach them.
Her eyes scanned the spines of the books packed into the built-in shelves. Capital Markets Act, Compendium of Revised Tax Laws, Family Law Code. The titles that caught her eye were all legal texts, and Rosalyn looked through the books—which were tedious by their sheer thickness alone—with interest.
Most of the books within reach were related to commercial law and family law. Commercial law made sense since it was his specialization, but why were there so many on family law? Rosalyn wondered why Jared was so focused on it as she continued to read the book titles.
Then, when she reached a certain corner, she couldn’t believe her eyes.
Blooming Mansion
The book was smaller and thinner than the others, but it stood out remarkably. The navy-blue spine and the silver-foiled lettering were also strikingly beautiful. Rosalyn reached out as if drawn to it and pulled the book out. The familiar cover was exactly as she remembered.
Blooming Mansion. Dennis Howl. Beaucastle Publishing.
To think such a book was here. In the Duke’s office.
‘Have you read that author’s books too? No, a girl like you wouldn’t read such things. I heard they’re more vulgar than romance novels.’
She could almost hear her aunt’s horrified voice. Rosalyn was momentarily speechless at Jared’s unexpected taste. At first, she was simply bewildered, but soon a faint smile leaked out. It felt as though she had accidentally discovered a soft spot of his, as if they shared a secret hobby.
I’ve read this book too.
Blooming Mansion was a thriller novel about a maid who, after being toyed with and abandoned by a nobleman, burns with hatred and kills him. It had been immensely popular since its release. Aside from the plot, there had been much criticism that it was provocative due to its unconventional descriptions. Indeed, the sexual depictions in this book were far more explicit than in other romance novels.
Rosalyn had read this book in her own private space, the small greenhouse at Fairfield House. She had always loved novels; while romance novels were fun, her favorites were mysteries. She felt such a sense of catharsis every time the culprit in a labyrinthine case was caught.
While reading those books, Rosalyn could become the protagonist. She could fall in romantic love with a wonderful man, or become a brilliant detective helping the wronged. She could even become a maid who kills the man who abandoned her.
That was why she liked novels. Because she could live out lives she couldn’t even dream of. Because she could freely roam the world outside the mansion and high society.
Did you think that way too? Like me?
A strange sense of pride bloomed within her. Rosalyn fought back the urge to keep smiling and opened the book in her hand.
As she was turning the pages one by one, looking for traces of his reading, the closed door suddenly swung open, making her jump.
Turning her head, she locked eyes with Jared, who was standing a short distance away. He stood at the entrance with an attendant, looking toward her. He stared at her face with a look of surprise before dropping his gaze to scan the book held in her hands.
Rosalyn did not miss the slight hardening of his brow.
