Chapter 41
Would Pheon really dismiss even the butler? This was already the second time he had mentioned replacing him, and there had been that incident with the head maid as well. Given everything he had done so far, it seemed quite likely.
Yes, Kaella didn’t trust him completely. After being confined and starved, then gratefully drinking poison and dying, what was there to trust? As if she would trust Pheon. All she trusted was the small vial in her pocket and the experience of having died once.
Since she had died once, she could die again. She could endure it.
“Letters for Your Highness.”
Kaella wondered just how many silver trays were left as she looked at the ones the butler had placed them on. The stock of silverware must have been shockingly low.
“Thank you.”
How many letters could there be for a duchess who had only just risen from her seat? At most, she expected one from her father in Ostein, but there were quite a few.
“Are you proceeding with selecting a head maid?”
Cecil and Denise immediately shot the butler a sharp glance. That was the problem with this ‘viscount’ Rolf Anderson.
The butler was supposed to keep his mouth shut until the duchess gave an order. Or ask very cautiously, at the very least. But every time he faced Kaella, he went on about the head maid position as if he were her superior inspecting the work, making her want to crack open his skull and see how he viewed rank and hierarchy.
“I’m not forgetting.”
Even if she pressed him, his habit would stay the same. Since it was obvious he would retaliate privately no matter what she said to this ridiculous duchess, Kaella was too tired to bother.
They had deliberately let in maids who kept making mistakes, or made them err on purpose, and whenever Kaella said something, they would cry that they had done their best, painting Kaella as the bad one.
“Conveniently, the senders of these letters are all excellent candidates for head maid. Your Highness can refer to them when making your choice.”
“I understand. You may go.”
“Yes.”
When Kaella waved her hand dismissively, the butler had no choice but to leave. As soon as the door closed, Cecil, who had been staring blankly, turned to Kaella.
“Just now… he said he checked who wrote the letters to Your Highness first…”
“Censorship is only natural. This isn’t a castle—it’s a fortress, Cecil.”
“But ‘you can refer to them,’ not even ‘please refer to them’…”
Cecil flapped her mouth open and shut, unable to continue properly. How dare he take such an insolent attitude toward the noble daughter of Ostein, the emperor’s niece!
“Things like minor speech habits aren’t important here.”
Kaella muttered without smiling as she examined the letters.
“But speech habits are so important, Your Highness. In Ostein…”
“This isn’t Ostein, and the more we talk like that, the more we’ll be treated as outsiders.”
Cecil wasn’t one to avoid things; she had endured alongside Kaella here until she fell ill and died. The treatment of the duchess’s maids was probably even worse than that of the duchess herself, so it made sense that Cecil would break first.
Kaella spoke firmly as she tore open a letter. Perhaps she should send Cecil back before young Mari. She had to send her off properly, and she needed a plausible excuse when she did. Everything was just exhausting.
“Why would the ladies of Lüsenford send letters to Your Highness?”
Yolnes Pare, the gatekeeper’s wife, and Alicia Rulemon from her family that she had wanted to introduce, along with all the other noble ladies Kaella was thoroughly sick of—they had sent letters.
“They want to meet.”
Kaella formally tore open the rest, skimmed them roughly, and pushed them away.
“Burn them all.”
Noble ladies couldn’t visit the duchess unless she summoned them. So they were requesting it in writing first.
It was obvious they were all eyeing the vacant head maid position. Of course, Kaella had no intention whatsoever of bringing in any of former head maid Doris Windgood’s allies.
‘Head maid.’
Managing people was the most annoying and troublesome thing. The position itself was loathsome.
Wouldn’t it be easier without one? No matter who sat there, they’d be a Lüsenford native, just one more person to torment Kaella.
But with all this fuss, it might be more comfortable to just pick someone and be done with it. Besides, after checking the ledgers herself every day and even inspecting the silverware stock in the middle of the night, it would be ridiculous not to appoint a head maid.
It would be convenient for Kaella to put Cecil in charge, but she didn’t want to burden the non-local Cecil any more, and Cecil, along with Denise and Mari, were all people who would leave for Ostein.
“Denise. Go see what His Grace the Grand Duke is doing and report back, please?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
To see the grand duke’s face, one always had to scout around and time it right.
Feeling like she was back in those days when even having a conversation with her husband was so difficult, Kaella took a deep breath as her chest tightened. No, maybe she’d slap him across the cheek again.
He’s someone else’s man. Before dying, Kaella had been pathetic for not ending her unrequited love, tormented by guilt over doing what she shouldn’t.
By the time confinement loomed, she had given up so much that all she wanted from Pheon was for him to respect her as duchess.
Even now, she had to stay sharp and try to believe Beatrice’s words that he had helped kill her father, and the memory of him trying to starve her to death was true.
Pheon had no feelings for her at all. So she had to keep her distance and be careful. Above all, she had to remember that Pheon was always hard to see.
“Um, Your Highness.”
A little while after Denise left, there was a knock at the door. Cecil went to check and called Kaella back with a slightly troubled expression.
“Yes. Tell them to come in.”
It had to be Denise returning from the grand duke’s office across from the duchess’s office where she sat. Kaella said it without looking up.
“They say to come in.”
They say to come in? It’s polite speech—what’s going on? Something wrong? Kaella quickly looked up.
The one entering wasn’t just Denise. No, Denise was actually at the back, and the grand duke—tall, broad-shouldered, looking intimidating in his black clothes—entered.
Kaella jumped up in surprise. Pheon glanced at the sloppy interior of the duchess’s office, which lacked any cozy feel, slightly furrowing his brow before striding over.
She had told her to scout the atmosphere, but for him to come himself—something must be wrong. Was he offended? Did he think she was spying? Pale-faced, Kaella looked up at the man who had instantly filled the office.
“Sit down, Your Highness.”
“Your Grace.”
Her voice trembled barely as she replied. Her large eyes were full of bewilderment and fear. Meeting those eyes made Pheon feel heartbroken every time; he urgently grasped both her arms and gently sat her back down.
“Sit down. It seemed like Your Highness needed me, so I came.”
When had Kaella started fearing him like this? Why did she fear him? He kept wanting to find the reason elsewhere.
Because he looked scary. Because he was a threatening, rough man. Because he was a step down for the delicately raised Ostein duke’s daughter. He knew those were all excuses, that the truth lay elsewhere, yet here he was.
“What can I help you with?”
Kaella was brave. Even as her small, pale hands shook with fear, she answered steadily when he asked.
“I sent my maid ahead to check because I worried you might be busy. I apologize if it caused offense.”
“How could it? If Your Highness wants to see me, come anytime. Or summon me.”
Watching the grand duke kneel on one knee before the seated duchess and speak so tenderly, Knight Lenar, who had followed, wanted to rub his eyes.
Was our stone-hearted grand duke doing this much for a lady? He hadn’t even done this for Lady Lavalle, whom he had occasionally seen and whose movements had seemed very suspicious!
Now he saw that his lord the grand duke had long lost interest in Lady Lavalle. The way the grand duke looked at the duchess was warm.
“Thank you.”
Kaella hesitated, unable to find words, and expressed her gratitude. Pheon smiled unwittingly. For the curt, unapproachable grand duke to lower himself and match her eye level was awkward and strange to Kaella.
Since she had never experienced it, she kept her guard up.
If it had been Beatrice Lavalle, she would have elegantly inclined her head as if it were natural, but Kaella de Shasser could never do that. At best, she said “thank you” and that was it—how could she compare to Beatrice?
If she just remained a cute little sister, a much younger sister, that would be more than enough. And whether Kaella wanted it or not, that was right.
“What did Your Highness need me for?”
Knight Lenar was truly impressed. His grand duke wasn’t incapable—he simply hadn’t wanted to before.
As soon as the duchess’s maid appeared, he had immediately asked what was wrong, dropped what he was doing, and come straight to the duchess’s office. The man who rarely smiled was even smiling now—the situation was obvious.
The quick-witted Knight Lenar met eyes with the errand maid Denise. She seemed to grasp the situation too.
“Um, I have a request.”
“Yes, speak.”
Knight Lenar felt very good. At this rate, baby cries might echo by next year, and he could see a more relaxed grand duke. Always worried about his rigidly living lord, Knight Lenar basked in happy dreams.
“I have something to discuss with Knight Lenar. I hope you’d allow it.”
Knight Lenar, lost in dreams, was startled when the duchess suddenly mentioned him. Pheon’s gaze turned to him too.
“What need is there to ask my permission for something like that? Just call him and ask.”
“But he’s Your Grace’s knight.”
“If he’s my knight, he’s also Your Highness’s knight.”
“Thank you.”
The duchess bowed her head politely in thanks and turned to Knight Lenar. Then Pheon added,
“May I stay as well?”
Knight Lenar racked up all his experiences from countless battles in Lüsenford and his intelligence work covering Kline, but he had never seen anyone as frightening as the grand duke staring at him now.
The overly calm gaze seemed ordinary at first glance, but Knight Lenar knew well that its calmness was what made it terrifying.
“Yes, of course. There’s something I need to ask Your Grace too. Please sit, Your Grace. You too, Knight.”
Pheon sat, eyeing the sofa in the duchess’s office with dissatisfaction, pondering how to replace it without breaking it.
Kaella, for her part, eyed the gaudy floral sofa doubtfully, wondering if it could handle Pheon—a solid, large-framed knight. It must have been newly made by the exiled former head maid; it creaked.
Kaella called for Mari to bring tea and faced Pheon’s aide—one of his sources of information—whom she had never formally greeted.
“Knight Lenar.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Knight Lenar, full of tension, had connections across all of Lüsenford and Kline.
His natural affability meant he knew many in the Imperial Knights, and Lüsenford was his backyard. But he knew too many rumors, making him one of those who looked unkindly at Kaella.
In the end, Knight Lenar had probably been angry too. After all, plenty had raged at Kaella for supposedly betraying their lord.
“I’m not familiar with Lüsenford, so I don’t know the people here well. I’d like your help, Knight.”
Kaella humbly asked the knight for assistance. Even if the lady of Lüsenford ordered it, he had to obey as a knight, but for her to ask like this—it made Knight Lenar feel deeply honored.
“I will follow any order.”
“I’ve heard you have wide reach. What I want to know is about Sir Hugo Perweding.”
But no matter the attitude, the duchess’s questions were pulling Knight Lenar into a quagmire. She had something to ask about her husband’s subordinate knight despite having a husband, and now about another knight.
“What I want is the precise, objective reputation among his peers.”
“Ah, that fellow is upright.”
“Do you think so too, Your Grace?”
“Yes.”
After confirming once more with the grand duke, Kaella asked Knight Lenar again.
“Then what about his wife, Merma Perweding?”
Kaella recalled Merma Perweding’s bold demeanor from the first time she met the Lüsenford noble ladies.
“Husbands and wives resemble each other, don’t they?”
Of course, that didn’t apply to Pheon and Kaella.
“Yes. Similar temperaments.”
“Tell me the behind-the-scenes talk without holding back. Does the wife have ambitions?”
Knight Lenar hesitated, then answered honestly.
“Yes. To be frank, if the exiled head maid’s faction was the mainstream, you could see Lady Perweding as the leader of the second faction aiming to succeed them.”
“That’s exactly how I want you to tell it.”
Kaella nodded. Before dying, no one in Lüsenford had given her any information. So she had to gauge the noble ladies’ power—who refused to confront her directly—through direct clashes with her whole body.
But the information she could gather was too scant; Kaella could only make inferences. Now, she was just confirming if her guesses were right.
This was probably one of the last chances to confirm.
Hope was a thorn that hurt her. Kaella smiled bitterly without realizing it, and the grand duke never took his eyes off her.
