Chapter 45
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 45
"I didn't think you'd be visiting this old woman again."
Theodore let out a soft chuckle and sat across from the elderly woman. His long, straight fingers wrapped around a glass of water. He took a sip as if it were fine liquor, then set the glass down with a faint smile.
"You sent a woman to me through Edgar, yet you claim you didn't expect my visit. Your jokes are growing cruel, Grandmother."
"I see you've met Hailey. What did you think of her, Your Grace?"
"I had no idea you intended to thrust a Morton upon me instead of a royal."
His upright posture, flawless face, and elegant yet powerful physique were nothing short of a masterpiece. Looking at her grandson, Grace’s eyes filled with undeniable pride—she couldn't help it, even through her simmering anger.
"She must be quite the beauty, then."
Just then, the butler brought in a teacup and set it before Theodore. The young duke looked down without answering, a sudden warmth softening his gaze. It was as if he were lost in a fond, cherished memory.
It was a reaction she hadn't dared to hope for when she sent Hailey Morton. The mere possibility of progress brought a touch of color back to the old woman's wrinkled face.
"If you favor her, I will call off the marriage alliance with the royal family."
"I do not favor her. And I would prefer you reject the royal family's proposal as well—if only to spare a princess the dishonor of being put on display and rejected by a mere naval officer."
"Do you truly detest the idea of marrying the princess that much?"
"Does Battenberg truly need a marriage alliance with the royal family?"
"Battenberg does not, no."
"Then—"
"But you, Your Grace, do."
Two pairs of identical blue eyes locked across the room. The tension between them was taut and fierce, neither willing to yield an inch. Her brilliant grandson had likely already deduced the words she dared not speak aloud: Only someone of a princess's stature would make you even pretend to consider marriage.
Unable to bear the mounting silence, Grace slowly lifted her teacup to her lips.
"I refuse."
The teacup, moving in an elegant arc, froze in midair. The old woman's fingertips trembled with tension as she set it back down on the saucer.
"Are you determined to end our line?"
"At the very least, it would make Edgar happy."
"Your Grace."
"If you're that desperate for me to marry, I suppose you'd be satisfied if I brought home some random woman off the street."
"Theodore, please."
"Do you know something?"
A calculated, precise smile touched the duke's otherwise impassive lips.
"You only ever call me by my name when you have a favor to ask."
Grace suppressed a sigh that was almost a groan. He was her only grandson, the apple of her eye. Though she had raised him with her own hands, the burden of his parents' mistakes had weighed on him since childhood. To prevent him from being crushed by that weight, and to stop him from following in the footsteps of his failed father, she had chosen to be a strict teacher rather than a loving grandmother.
She had only wanted to ensure he wouldn't become a weak man who risked his life for something as trivial as love. Perhaps that had been her mistake.
"You can't sway me with that anymore."
Just as Theodore had anticipated her thoughts, she understood the words he left unsaid. I have spent years living as your puppet, enduring the shallow affection you occasionally threw my way. I truly believed that if I elevated the family name, if I became the perfect duke, a better reward would be waiting for me…
In truth, the young duke sitting before her was her masterpiece. He surpassed any Battenberg she had ever raised—surpassing her husband, her son, and all the rest.
"You must remember how much this old woman detested your decision to join the Navy, when you had a guaranteed future even if you did nothing at all."
"Serving in the military is an honorable path. I don't regret it."
"Even an old woman confined to these back rooms has ears. I'm not trying to blame you for that now. In fact, Your Grace made the best possible choice."
"..."
"And yet, the world will always deem it insufficient. A time may come when you must abandon the very name passed down by your ancestors just to prove your patriotism."
Battenberg was a rather foreign surname for a family of Ingram. Centuries ago, they had inherited the name of the exiled ducal house of Erman. No matter how loyal the House of Battenberg had been to Ingram, things that were non-issues in times of peace were scrutinized and demanded proof during times of war.
Such was the era they lived in. Prolonged peace had led to overflowing national coffers, and the territories divided centuries ago were beginning to feel cramped. The scent of blood spilled to defend the land had faded into a distant memory. It was an age that manufactured heroes by packaging the subjugation of a single island as a grand war, all to stir a shallow patriotism in the youth.
In times like these, the tiniest spark could ignite a war. In Linden, even the paperboys on the street could read the currents of the unstable political climate.
"Therefore, a marriage alliance is the most fitting way to prove our loyalty."
"..."
"These are the things Hailey sent me."
At the sudden shift in topic, Theodore glanced down. The old woman had produced a flat box. Inside was a collection of various trinkets.
"Whenever you were away, she would visit to keep this tedious old woman company. At first, I was full of baseless prejudice, and I cannot tell you how cruel I was to her."
"..."
"The Mortons are a founding family of Ingram, and their reputation is impeccable. If you would rather die than marry into the royal family, then a Morton is your best option. She is more than enough for me."
"Grandmother."
"Meet her at least three times. After that, I shall respect your decision, Your Grace."
Theodore looked at the items Grace had laid out with sheer disbelief. They were trivial things with absolutely no material value. Dried flowers, a handwritten copy of a rare poetry book, pressed leaves of unknown purpose, a handkerchief embroidered with an exquisite bird, and…
A photograph.
The inscription on the back—asking her to think of him whenever she looked at it—was absurd. Theodore stared at it for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. Something he hadn't noticed when she was sitting right in front of him became startlingly clear in this frozen moment.
Her features, made distinct by the lack of color, and the bright smile on her face as she looked straight ahead dredged up a long-forgotten memory. Theodore unconsciously reached out and covered the eyes of the woman in the photograph.
The moment the nagging familiarity finally clicked into place, a dry laugh escaped him. Now he understood. He understood why his grandmother was so desperately pushing this woman on him. He understood why Hailey Morton's bright, radiant face had bothered him so much.
Morton was his mother's maiden name.
* * *
"Ah…"
It was a tight, snug fit. Vanessa let out a thin whimper, her fingers gripping the bedsheets.
It was their first reunion in three days. They kissed as if quenching a deep thirst, clinging to each other as if to soothe the wounds they had each sustained in their separate lives. Like young beasts licking each other's blood. Their lovemaking had continued like this until dawn.
He nipped at her nipples, swollen and plump from the constant stimulation. The man, having just returned from the capital, was more impatient than usual in every way. It was as if everything they had learned about each other's bodies had been forgotten; in the pitch-black night, where even his features were invisible, she had the illusion of being held by a complete stranger.
"Mnh, ah…"
As she bit her lip and groaned, the force driving roughly inside her came to a halt. He pressed his thumb against her mouth, parting her bitten lips and letting her bite down on his finger instead.
"Does it hurt that much?"
Vanessa shook her tear-stained head. She preferred the pain. In this moment, at least, her tangled thoughts vanished completely. In fact, she wouldn't have minded if he hurt her a little more.
"Keep going… just… like this…"
"Tell me if it hurts. Don't just endure it."
"It's fine… yes… I'm okay…"
As she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him on and moving by instinct, the muscles in River Ross's forearms tensed where they supported his weight on the bed. Though cautious at first, he suddenly thrust deep inside her, reaching her core over and over again. Unstifled moans spilled from Vanessa's flushed lips.
"Ah, mnh, Ri… yes! River… ah, ah!"
"I wish… your hair were as long as mine…"
He lowered his head to listen to the slurred, breathless words that escaped her amidst the frantic, pounding rhythm.
She meant it. She wished his hair were very long, and her hair were very long, so they could weave themselves together as one.
Like two trees meeting and intertwining from the roots up, binding themselves in a bond that could never be severed.