Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Translation: godsn
"Could that girl possibly be the one? The orphan raised by the gardener?"
Countess Brandt's forehead creased as she gazed through the window at the garden beyond. A young lady wearing glasses was assisting the gardener in tending to the rose beds.
"Yes, Mother. That's Leila, the girl."
Claudine replied nonchalantly, her needlework as deft and steady as before. While the Countess paced restlessly by the window, Claudine continued stitching with calm precision. Beneath her fingertips, roses of vibrant colors bloomed in splendid array.
"She's a pretty child. And she only grows lovelier with time."
"And that doesn't bother you at all?"
"I know what you're worried about, Mother."
Claudine set down her embroidery frame with a satisfied smile. Countess Brandt, who had been wearing a troubled expression, widened her eyes in surprise.
The frail Countess had suffered multiple miscarriages before finally bearing a single daughter safely—Claudine, the sole heiress of House Brandt.
Consumed by the inferiority of failing to produce an heir, the Countess had lived in constant fear that her husband's affection might wane. Fortunately, Count Brandt had fathered no sons with his mistresses either, but that was hardly a comfort. At any moment, a young and beautiful woman could appear, bear him a son, and steal his love away.
Claudine pitied her mother. And in equal measure to that pity, she found her tiresome.
"But I have no interest in dwelling on such matters."
Claudine's words carried the weight of a declaration. The Countess sighed as if exasperated.
"You're still too young to understand men, Claudine. If I were you—"
"What, should I banish every beautiful woman from Duke Herhardt's sight?"
Claudine laughed, exhaling an exaggerated sigh.
"As you say, Mother, I'm still young and don't know much about men. But I do know that even the most distinguished gentlemen usually keep a mistress or two."
"Good heavens, Claudine!"
"Of course, I'd prefer if it never happened. But if it does, it wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary."
Claudine shrugged lightly.
Even the usually composed Claudine had been quite startled when she unexpectedly encountered Leila. It was natural for a pretty girl to blossom into a beautiful woman, but Leila's appearance surpassed her expectations.
With the petite frame characteristic of Lovitan women and delicate, exquisite features, the girl looked almost like a fairy. Her enigmatic green eyes, paired with skin so pale it seemed translucent, only enhanced that ethereal aura.
That was why she had impulsively invited Leila to accompany her. She was curious. How would Duke Herhardt react to such a woman before him? And he had met her expectations perfectly—with measured interest, indifference, impeccable dignity, and restraint. That was more than enough.
"But Claudine, keeping a girl like that near Matthias does you no good."
Countess Brandt still wore an uneasy expression.
"What if I speak to the Herhardts about it?"
"Mother."
Claudine's voice lowered.
She had vowed—over and over—never to live like this. Watching her mother, who had everything yet wept for love, had only strengthened her resolve. It was also why she had decided to marry Matthias.
Matthias von Herhardt was a noble, wealthy, and beautiful man. To expect such a man to devote himself solely to a wife bound to him by political marriage? She might as well believe in fairy-tale happy endings.
Perhaps even he might be swayed by desire for a beautiful woman. Like her father. Like countless other men. But a man who knew how to treat a mistress as just that was generally harmless. The real trouble came from men who couldn't. And the Matthias she knew was decidedly the former.
"Do you love him?"
Claudine tilted her head slightly before simply smiling.
Well. Perhaps yes, perhaps not—but that wasn't such an important matter. She knew full well that Matthias felt the same way.
What truly mattered was that the Duke of Herhardt, who fulfilled every role given to him with utmost fidelity, would make an impeccable husband and father. That was what Claudine wanted. A marriage that would preserve her dignity and grace.
"Even if His Grace the Duke were to take an interest in that lowborn yet beautiful child, what of it?"
At Claudine's composed remark, Countess Brandt looked aghast.
"Good heavens, Claudine! What on earth are you saying?"
"She would be nothing more than a mistress, after all."
Claudine even let out a small laugh.
"Honestly, a girl like that might even be preferable. One who could never dare threaten my position—one I could keep under my thumb and tame."
"My child, Claudine... You... You truly know nothing of love."
Countess Brandt's sigh deepened as she looked at her daughter.
Claudine met her mother's gaze—those beautiful blue eyes that had never known a day without tears—and turned her head with an inscrutable smile.
Outside the window, she caught sight of Leila. The girl had just stood up, laughing as she rubbed her lower back.
When Kyle arrived, the cabin was empty. It seemed Leila and Uncle Bill had gone out to the garden together. Changing his mind about following them, Kyle settled into a chair on the porch.
The thought of Leila in her glasses made him grin crookedly. The future Mrs. Etman was pretty even with spectacles. At first, it had been a little strange and awkward, but now, just imagining her face made his heart race.
Feeling his cheeks heat up again, Kyle coughed unnecessarily. Just then, Leila and Uncle Bill returned to the cabin.
"What on earth is that hat?"
Kyle frowned at the rustic hat obscuring Leila's pretty face.
"Wow, that's seriously tacky. Please tell me you didn't pay money for that?"
Teasing her again, he was met with simultaneous glares from both Leila and Bill. Their expressions were downright menacing.
"Uncle bought it for me!"
Leila scowled and shouted. Bill answered by hefting a shovel from the cart.
"Now that I look again, it's pretty. Wow, so pretty! Uncle Bill has the best taste!"
Startled, Kyle hastily revised his opinion.
"Don't make fun of it. It's really precious to me."
Still pouting, Leila took off the hat in question and held it up. It was a rather flamboyant straw hat, lavishly adorned with flowers and ribbons.
While Bill organized the cart, Leila prepared lunch. The infamous hat was placed reverently at the end of the table. Kyle sat across from it, eyeing Leila cautiously.
"Leila. Are you mad?"
"Yeah."
She slammed his plate down with extra force.
Well, at least she's still feeding me.
Kyle sighed in relief.
"Sorry. If I'd known, I wouldn't have said that."
"Dunno."
"But why the sudden hat gift?"
"I asked for it."
"You? Since when do you pester people for things?"
Kyle sounded genuinely surprised. The Leila he knew rarely ever asked anyone for anything.
"Because he was really upset about the glasses."
Leila's voice dropped.
"He was upset that your eyesight got worse?"
"No. Not that. It's because I secretly saved up and bought expensive glasses without telling him."
Leila finished setting the table and sat across from Kyle.
When Leila had first appeared at the cabin wearing glasses, Uncle Bill had looked as if someone had struck him over the head. After hearing how she'd managed to afford them, his expression had turned icy. It was the first time Leila had ever seen him so angry.
"Leila... Do you really trust me so little?"
The sorrow in his eyes as he sighed had left her breathless.
"No, it wasn't that," she'd explained, "I just felt so indebted to you that I was ashamed, and I wanted to prove I could handle this much on my own." But the more Leila tried to explain, the sadder Bill's eyes became.
After that day, an awkward tension lingered between Bill and Leila.
Bill grew sullen, his lips pressed into a tight line, while Leila fidgeted anxiously, unsure how to mend things. The solution she eventually found was... a hat.
'Uncle, could you buy me just one hat?'
Leila had blurted it out abruptly during dinner a few days prior.
'A really pretty one, if you can.'
When she elaborated with uncharacteristic seriousness, Bill had snorted with laughter.
The next evening, the uncle who'd gone to town to buy pruning shears returned with a straw hat adorned with an abundance of flowers and ribbons.
'Bought it in Lind. If you don't like it, take it back and exchange it.'
Tossing the hat toward her, Bill added nonchalantly.
"You chose it yourself?"
"Well, something like that."
"It's so pretty."
Leila beamed as she put it on.
Uncle Bill had bought her many things, but in most cases, he'd either asked Mrs. Mona for help or taken Leila directly to the shops to pick what she needed. Leila knew exactly how monumental a task it must have been for a man like Bill Remmer to personally select a woman's hat. And just how profound that love was.
To Bill Remmer, flowers were the most beautiful things in this world. Therefore, a hat laden with flowers was undoubtedly the prettiest hat. Knowing his heart, this was indisputably the most beautiful and endearing hat in existence.
"Hey! You should've said something sooner!"
Kyle's face twisted in dismay as he listened.
"Now I just look like a complete jerk for making fun of it!"
"When did you give me a chance to explain? You started teasing me the moment you saw it."
"Well, that's true but..."
"You impudent little brat. Mooching off my food again. One of these days, I'll send Dr. Etman a hefty bill for all the meals you've scarfed down!"
The door burst open as Bill bellowed loudly. But his face—contrary to his rough words—was warm and playful.
Spotting the hat on the table, he gave an awkward chuckle. Watching him, Leila smiled so tenderly that Kyle nearly felt a pathetic twinge of jealousy.
Any man who loved Leila Lewellin had no choice but to resign himself to second place. Because first place would always belong to Uncle Bill.
Consoling himself, Kyle snatched up his fork. Uncle Bill's scolding didn't matter. Leila's cooking was worth enduring any humiliation for.
Once Bill left for work after lunch, only Kyle and Leila remained in the cabin.
As always, Leila sat on the porch reading, while Kyle pretended to read as he watched her. Unless she paused to pick up a biscuit, Leila remained astonishingly absorbed in her book.
I never should've lent her that novel.
Despite his bitter regret, Kyle stifled a laugh.
Leila would never know. How pretty she looked when focused on a book. How utterly endearing she became while nibbling on a biscuit.
Should I confess today?
Setting his long-abandoned book on the floor, Kyle gazed at Leila with sudden seriousness.
He'd believed he could wait a little longer, but now his confidence had crumbled.
Even the slightest brush of Leila's fingertips made his heart pound as if it might burst. Heat flooded his body, and sometimes he dreamed dreams that left him guilt-ridden.
But worse than that was the gnawing anxiety. The near-terrifying dread that someday, someone might suddenly appear and steal Leila away.
So wouldn't it be better to just recklessly confess?
Just as impulse gripped Kyle and he parted his burning lips to speak—the slow clop of hooves reached them. Turning, he saw Duke Herhardt astride his horse in riding attire. Leila, who'd been about to bite into a biscuit, startled and looked up.
The Duke reined in his horse before the porch railing.
His gaze skimmed briefly over Kyle before settling on Leila's face, now flushed with bewilderment.