Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Translation: godsn
"Where is Mr. Remmer?"
The Duke asked Leila, who was bowing in greeting.
"Uncle went into town for a bit. Did you need him for something?"
Only after rubbing her lips several times did Leila manage to reply.
Duke Herhardt gave a brief nod before promptly averting his gaze from Leila. When his eyes returned to Kyle, the corners of his lips curled into a remarkably sociable smile. Only then did Kyle relax his instinctive wariness.
After expressing gratitude for the physician who diligently cared for his grandmother and exchanging pleasantries, the Duke shifted his attention back to Leila.
"Miss Lewellin can handle bringing the roses in his stead," he said slowly, the previous smile now absent from his lips.
"The roses? You mean the ones in the garden?"
"Pick some and bring them to the annex."
With that final instruction accompanied by a tilt of his head, Duke Herhardt took his leave. He didn't even wait to hear Leila's response.
Leila sighed in despair as she looked at the biscuit crumbs covering her blouse and skirt. Though she frantically brushed them off, the humiliation proved harder to shake.
"Stop that. There's nothing left now," Kyle burst out laughing as he watched Leila persistently rubbing her lips.
"Why did he have to show up right now of all times?"
"What's the big deal? The Duke doesn't even eat pastries."
"Still..."
Leila unconsciously wiped her mouth again.
"He gobbles them up just fine in front of me, so why get self-conscious about it now?"
"You're my friend."
"Duke Herhardt isn't. No need to be more careful around him than your friend."
"That may be true, but... I don't know. It's just so uncomfortable."
Wrinkles formed on the bridge of Leila's nose.
"Why? Did something happen?"
"No. Not exactly... It's just suffocating and uncomfortable. Anyway, that's why I don't like it."
"What about me? Am I comfortable and nice?"
Kyle asked with subtle expectation. Leila laughed as if hearing something absurd and put on her hat.
"Of course, Mr. Etman."
Satisfied with the answer, Kyle's smile brightened further.
"Knew it. Hey, want help with the errand?"
"No, it's nothing much. You should head home now."
"Then I'll wait here."
"It's fiiine. If your mom finds out you're playing here again, Mrs. Etman will be fu—urious. Don't get me in trouble too—go home and study."
At Leila's pointed remark, Kyle's eyebrows twitched. It was an irrefutable argument he couldn't counter.
Kyle stared intently in the direction where the Duke had disappeared.
This uneasiness must be because he'd been overly sensitive lately.
Not wanting to frighten Leila with baseless words, Kyle pressed his lips tightly together. This was Duke Herhardt, after all—not just any man, but a flawless noble with an impending engagement.
"Leila!"
Yet the lingering anxiety he couldn't suppress escaped as her name. Leila, having gathered her scissors and basket, smiled and waved back.
"See you tomorrow, Kyle!"
Don't go.
Swallowing the words he wanted to say, Kyle waved back as always.
Right. Because it's Duke Herhardt.
As he repeated the thought like a mantra, Leila grew distant down the garden path.
"Again."
Matthias's voice reached Leila's back just as she was about to turn away. Only after blinking several times did she realize the words were meant for her.
Holding her breath, Leila turned around. Matthias was seated at a table by the window, facing the butler. Just as before, he was reviewing the piles of documents covering the table.
"In muted colors."
Without lifting his gaze from the documents in his hand, Matthias spoke slowly.
"Again."
Then, to Leila's astonishment, a gentle smile crept onto Matthias's face as he looked at her.
Leila clenched her fists tightly, swallowing the irritation that surged up her throat. So it was about the roses. Those very roses he'd ordered her to pick—'moderately' trimmed.
While Leila glared at the roses, Matthias indifferently averted his gaze. Butler Hessen resumed his explanation, and Matthias, who had been listening, added brief instructions. It was as if the existence of the unsatisfactory errand girl had been completely erased.
For Uncle Bill.
Repeating that mantra, Leila quietly left the Riverside Annex and returned to the garden. How could a man who tormented people like this at two in the afternoon on a midsummer day be considered a good person? She stomped her feet, channeling her frustration toward the reputation she couldn't possibly accept.
Though Leila paid little attention to the affairs of the estate, even she knew the Riverside Annex was Duke Herhardt's private space. Guests were rarely received there, and only a limited number of servants came and went.
She suspected the sudden need for flowers there might be because of Claudine. Since they were soon to be engaged, perhaps Claudine had begun frequenting the annex. So, she had chosen roses in vibrant hues to match the tastes of the refined Young Lady Brandt—only for things to turn out like this.
Emerging from the woods, she reached the garden, now devoid of any shade.
Steeling herself, Leila strode forward resolutely and carefully cut the roses again. This time, she selected ones with a subdued glow, as per the finicky duke's request. Most of them were roses she liked too.
Basket now brimming with flowers, Leila trudged back through the sweltering summer afternoon, the scorching sun bearing down on her.
If this was what you wanted, why didn't you just say the color from the start?
Instead of voicing her frustration, she kicked a stray pebble on the ground.
I hate the Duke.
That thought, one she could never say to his face, was instead directed at an innocent leaf under her foot.
By the time her dizziness had nearly subsided, Leila arrived back at the annex.
The beautiful building beside the dock was constructed so that half of it seemed to float above the river. The first floor housed a boathouse and a small kitchen for preparing light refreshments, while the second floor contained the duke's private spaces—a drawing room, bedroom, and dining room.
Basket of roses in hand, Leila climbed the exterior staircase leading directly to the second floor. The butler and a middle-aged maid were just leaving the annex.
After nodding briefly at them, Leila hurried into the drawing room. Matthias was still there, reclined with his head tilted back, eyes closed.
Should she wait?
Fortunately, as she hesitated, he opened his eyes. His slightly tousled hair fell over his forehead.
"I've brought fresh roses, Your Grace."
Leila lifted the basket slightly, showing off the blooms.
Matthias merely stared without a word. Having removed his riding jacket and undone a few shirt buttons, he looked far more unguarded and languid than before.
"Should I... go again?"
Her voice trembled as she posed the cautious question. If she had to make another trip to the garden, she might just end up hitting the duke with the roses.
"If I say go, will you?"
His voice carried a hint of drowsiness as he asked.
"If I made another mistake, then yes, but... if I must, please tell me the color you want this time."
Yes, Your Grace.
That was clearly the response she intended, but the words that slipped from Leila's lips were entirely different.
Matthias, who had been silently observing the frozen-still Leila, straightened his posture, lifting himself from where he had been deeply reclined against the sofa back.
"Sit."
With a glance, Matthias indicated the seat across the table.
"No, thank you. If Your Grace is satisfied, I should now—"
"If you've brought the flowers, arranging them is also your responsibility, Miss Lewellin."
"But Your Grace, I'm not skilled at flower arranging."
"Then, should I do it instead?"
Matthias slowly swept his gaze around the room before returning it to Leila. The meaning behind that brief gesture was not lost on her. Now, only the two of them remained in this annex. It also meant that even if she was unskilled, she had no choice but to do it.
Leila moved cautiously toward Matthias, her steps measured. The seat across from him felt too burdensome, so she instead carefully settled into the wooden chair by the window overlooking the river.
As Leila began trimming the roses, Matthias turned his attention to the scattered pile of documents on the table. The sound of scissors snipping fresh stems and the rustle of paper seeped into the silence.
The moment he finished signing the last document, Matthias suddenly thought of the bird that lived in his bedroom. Despite being called difficult to tame, the canary had grown remarkably attached to him, now perching fearlessly on his finger and even singing.
He found it fascinating how such an impossibly tiny creature could produce such beautiful melodies and watched it for a long while. The bird, which had fluttered up in flight, returned to his hand and chirped softly—almost as if whispering affectionate words.
While he organized the papers, Leila quietly slipped into the bathroom to fill the vase with water. She moved with such lightness that her presence was barely noticeable.
It was quickly proven that Leila hadn't lied. Her flower arrangement amounted to little more than plopping the roses into the vase.
"Do you like it?" Leila asked hesitantly as she stood, holding the vase.
"It's dreadful."
Matthias's tone wasn't accusatory—just dry. Leila blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"I apologize. I'll call for a maid who's more skilled."
"Sit."
"Pardon?"
"Sit, Leila."
As his voice lowered, the weight of command in it grew heavier. His fingertip pointed precisely at the sofa across from him.
After placing the poorly received rose vase on the console, Leila stiffly took the seat Matthias had indicated.
"Eat."
Where Matthias's gaze directed, a silver dome dish sat.
When Leila awkwardly lifted the lid, a silver tray was revealed, bearing a portion of sandwiches and lemonade.
Matthias silently studied Leila's bewildered expression. If she liked something as simple as this, he thought he might as well compensate her appropriately. The result had been dismal, but she had, after all, done the gardener's work in his stead.
"Thank you, Your Grace, but I'm fine."
With trembling hands, Leila set the dome dish down. The face that had once smiled like sunlight in the doctor's son's presence now only looked deeply troubled.
"If there's nothing else you require, I'll take my leave—"
"Leila."
Matthias's voice was now closer to a whisper.
As Leila blinked slowly, Matthias took a sip of the cold whiskey soda before him. A droplet of condensation slid languidly down the crystal glass, tracing the length of his long fingers.
"Would you prefer if I phrased it as a request?"
His lips, reddened further by the moisture, curled into a smile.