Chapter 83
Chapter 83
Translation: godsn
"I'm sorry, Marie."
Claudine offered a calm apology to the maid whose eyes met hers in the mirror. The maid startled, nearly dropping the comb she was holding.
"Please don't say such things, Young Lady. It's entirely my fault for not conducting myself properly."
"No. I was foolish. I shouldn't have put you in such an awkward position."
With a sigh, Claudine rose from her vanity. Having finished dressing to receive the Crown Prince and his consort, she looked elegant and beautiful—a vision that wouldn't be out of place as the lady of Arvis Manor already.
"I'll never forget what I owe you. I'm truly sorry. And thank you, Marie. I mean it."
As her mistress clasped her hands and spoke those words, the maid's eyes grew red-rimmed.
Though she had served the young lady of House Brandt for many years, this was the first time she'd heard such words. Seeing the usually proud and self-assured Count's daughter like this tugged painfully at her heart—this girl she'd loved serving all along.
"All because of that Leila—"
"Don't say that. It was my own shortsightedness."
Stopping the maid mid-sentence, Claudine left the bedroom. There was still some time before the Crown Prince's arrival, but she didn't want to wallow in her gloomy mood by staying cooped up indoors.
After walking a full circle around the still-devastated greenhouse, Claudine redirected her steps toward the solarium where the surviving plants and birds had been relocated. Just as her irritation and anger toward that foolish gardener threatened to surge anew, a familiar voice spoke from behind her.
"Has your heart healed from the wounds of playing in shallow waters, Young Lady?"
Turning, she saw the expected face—Liet standing there. Her momentary glare didn't last. Claudine ended up laughing hollowly as she took a seat at the table. Whether it was the sweet floral scent or the birdsong, her heart felt somewhat lighter.
"Thank you for the excellent consolation, Liet."
"Don't mention it."
Liet sat across from her with an easy smile.
"You know, I thought if this became a problem, it would be entirely because of Leila. What a foolish notion."
Claudine abruptly shifted the topic mid-conversation.
"Don't worry too much. Men like Matthias—when they're infatuated, they're capable of anything. But such passions always wither soon enough."
"That might be true of ordinary men. But that man is Matthias von Herhardt."
Liet couldn't refute Claudine's words, sighed out as they were. Matthias's behavior that day had indeed been unexpected. To uninformed onlookers, it might have seemed like the devoted actions of a fiancé standing up for his woman who'd been deceived by a maid.
"Have you ever seen that man show attachment to anyone, Liet?"
Claudine gazed through the glass ceiling where sunlight streamed in, then looked back at Liet with weary eyes.
"I haven't. Not even once. I doubt he's ever felt particular attachment even to his own mother."
Liet wanted to say she was exaggerating, but couldn't deny it.
"That man... obsessed with a maid."
"Technically, Leila Lewellin isn't a maid."
"It makes no difference."
The calmness of her tone made Claudine's voice sound even colder.
"That day... I should have realized it that very day when he told that lie."
Claudine's self-deprecating gaze gradually darkened.
On that summer morning when thieves had supposedly broken into the gardener's cottage, Claudine had seen Matthias setting out alone for a walk—likely heading toward the Riverside Annex.
While cutting roses in the garden for flower arrangements, Claudine impulsively followed her fiancé. She knew Matthias rarely allowed others into the annex, which only made her want permission to enter more. With her basket full of flowers, she even had the perfect excuse—she could claim she wanted to decorate his vases.
Matthias was walking with strides noticeably longer than usual, moving briskly. By the time Claudine, chasing after him, was nearly out of breath, she came upon an unexpected sight.
On the path along the riverside, Matthias abruptly halted. Claudine soon discovered the reason—a strange middle-aged man stood facing Matthias, as if he had come from the opposite direction.
Claudine hastily hid herself behind a tree. At the time, she didn't understand why she did so, but looking back now, well—perhaps it had been some kind of instinct.
The scene itself wasn't particularly remarkable. Matthias, staring fixedly at the uninvited guest, and the unfamiliar man, flustered, muttering something fervently. Judging it to be of no consequence, Matthias soon brushed past him, and the man also hurriedly disappeared.
After hesitating briefly, Claudine changed her mind and turned back toward the mansion. Not long after, the entire Arvis estate was in an uproar over the theft of Leila Lewellin's tuition money from the gardener's cottage.
Though unfortunate, she had dismissed it as none of her concern—until a few days later, when her interest was piqued again. That morning, when the police came all the way to the ducal residence to ask if anyone had seen a suspicious stranger that day, and Matthias calmly lied through his teeth.
"No, I haven't."
Without a doubt, Matthias had seen that very stranger that day—yet he lied flawlessly.
Why on earth?
Though she couldn't comprehend Matthias's behavior, Claudine willingly chose to become his accomplice. Perhaps she had already sensed it then—that the reason for his lie was Leila. And soon, that premonition became reality. The day it was revealed that the stranger had been the thief who stole Leila's tuition, and that the mastermind behind the crime was none other than Mrs. Etman, who was hell-bent on preventing her son's marriage.
My fiancé wants that girl.
The day she realized this, Claudine laughed a little. The lofty Duke Herhardt, resorting to lies and schemes just to possess a mere Leila. And what's more, the method he chose was to ruin the best possible life that girl could have had.
Her fiancé's petty, vulgar desires were somewhat disappointing—no different from any other common man—but she didn't particularly care to dwell on it. After all, he was Matthias von Herhardt, and his opponent was just Leila. She could never have dreamed that she would suffer such humiliation at the hands of someone like Leila.
"Don't worry, Claudine. Even if that attachment is real, Matthias would never seat her in the position of Duchess."
Even with Liet's reassurance, Claudine couldn't bring herself to nod easily.
"Do you really think so?"
Though she knew it was absurd, she muttered anxiously.
"Right?"
Again, this time with a desperate hope, she pressed. Liet, watching her through narrowed eyes, let out a long sigh from between his lips.
"If you're that uneasy, just leave it be."
"What do you mean, brother?"
"Let your fiancé not recognize love for what it is. Let him remain utterly unaware and lose that woman. Let it happen."
"You can't possibly think Duke Herhardt doesn't understand his own feelings?"
"If it's truly love, Matthias won't realize it."
Even under Claudine's doubtful gaze, Liet was firm.
"He's lived his whole life without knowing such an emotion. He wouldn't even begin to guess what it is, so how could he recognize it?"
"That's ridiculous."
"No. This is sincere advice, for your sake. Don't provoke Matthias, Claudine."
Advice from a man who wished for the woman he loved to safely become his cousin's wife.
She nearly laughed at how pathetic it was—yet Liet still wished for Claudine's happiness. If that happiness lay in the position of Duchess Herhardt, he would gladly hand it to her.
"Don't provoke Leila Lewellin and make Matthias realize his own feelings. Human hearts are quite fickle, you see. Once love recognizes itself as love, it becomes unstLietble."
Just like my own heart toward you.
Instead of voicing those words, Liet wore a faint smile. The conversation between the two came to an abrupt halt as footsteps began echoing from the far end of the corridor.
Before long, the source of those footsteps appeared. It was Duke Herhardt, dressed in formal attire. Brushing past Liet, he approached Claudine and extended a gloved hand.
"His Highness the Crown Prince will be arriving shortly. Shall we go, my lady?"
Not a trace of the ruthless demeanor that had cornered Claudine that day could be found in his elegant smile or gestures. The momentary waver in her eyes was fleeting. Claudine returned a smile as natural as her fiancé's and took his hand.
"Yes, Duke Herhardt."
That bright, cheerful voice alone nearly made Liet chuckle aloud.
In some ways, they truly were a match made in heaven.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Liet soon rose from his seat as well.
The three soon arrived at the lobby hall, where a line of people had gathered to welcome the Crown Prince and his consort. It was there that Liet saw her—standing quietly at the very end of the servants' line—Leila, Duke Herhardt's woman.
As the carriage carrying the Crown Prince and his consort arrived, the waiting photographers sprang into action.
Though the Duke and the Crown Prince were old friends, this was an official visit during an imperial inspection, and the protocol befitting such an occasion had been meticulously prepared. Even Leila, who had witnessed countless distinguished guests at Arvis over the years, couldn't help but be astonished by the unprecedented scale and grandeur of this event.
Leila stood at the very end of the line of servants, her eyes shimmering with a mix of tension and anticipation. The Duke appeared alongside his fiancée, the young Lady Brandt. Arm in arm, the two stood side by side, exuding effortless grace under the barrage of flashing cameras, showing no trace of nervousness.
With a slightly dazed gaze, Leila stared at Duke Herhardt, who seemed like an entirely different person from the man who met her in the shadows of deep night. There was no hint of the madman she knew in his composed, dignified demeanor.
So this is how he looks as the man of a noble lady.
A wintry light glistened in Leila's slowly blinking eyes. Matthias and Claudine descended the red-carpeted stairs, their faces adorned with elegant smiles as they greeted the Crown Prince and his consort. Even from a distance too far to hear their words, the warmth of their interaction was palpable. Both Duke Herhardt and Lady Brandt carried themselves with remarkable familiarity.
As Leila's eyes traced the dazzling insignias adorning the Duke's formal attire, she instinctively hid her hands behind her back. The tips of her empty fingers suddenly ached—the same fingers that had stroked the shimmering wings of birds countless times, the very hands that had once politely accepted the coins Claudine handed her.
Bowing her head, Leila fixed her gaze on the floor. By the time she cautiously lifted her eyes again, the Crown Prince and his entourage had already ascended the stairs. It's all over now. But the bitter relief she felt was soon swallowed by deep regret.
Claudine turned her head.
She was looking directly at Leila, smiling sweetly. The faint jingling of coins seemed to echo in Leila's ears, and she clenched her hidden hands even tighter.
It was a pale afternoon, where the sun cast shadows that stretched unnervingly long.