Chapter 55
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 55
Wyatt rose from the maid, a deep sense of satisfaction washing over him. It had been a rare, pleasurable tryst. How long had it been since he’d felt nothing but pure pleasure, free from any lingering discomfort?
He let out a heavy sigh. The thrill of a young, supple female body was always the same, but the unavoidable hardships of life had aged him—mostly, matters of money.
For the time being, however, he might just be free of those worries. The hope sent a new surge of vitality through him. Pulling up his trousers, he placed a cigar between his lips and picked up his wallet. After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled out five five-pounce notes and held them out to the maid.
“Here.”
The maid, who had been smoothing her crumpled skirt with a blank expression, accepted the money with both hands. He liked the way her eyes widened in surprise. The prospect of a massive windfall had a way of making a man feel incredibly generous.
“…What makes you so generous today?”
“Just take it and be grateful,” he snapped, lighting his cigar.
Of all the women he had bedded, this maid was the best, but her plain, unalluring face was a constant flaw. A man’s satisfaction, after all, was always the woman’s responsibility.
Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Wyatt picked up the whiskey bottle from the console. The half-empty bottle contained illicit moonshine—harsh and unrefined, but strong enough to get him drunk quickly. He quenched his burning thirst and then asked, as if the thought had just occurred to him, “Where is Vanessa?”
“She went to bed early last night, saying she wasn't feeling well.”
“How has she been lately?”
“She’s doing fine.”
Wyatt scowled. “Is that all you have to say? That’s the same answer you’ve been giving me for days.”
“She doesn’t require much attention. She rarely asks for anything.”
The maid was still holding the bills. She glanced down at her uniform, seemingly wondering where to tuck them so they wouldn’t get lost while she worked. There were, after all, a few light-fingered servants in Gloucester Castle. As long as they didn’t touch their master’s belongings, Wyatt tended to let it slide. It was a compromise one had to make when employing cheap labor.
“Nothing new?”
He emptied the whiskey bottle, his eyes fixed on the maid’s face. He watched her closely, searching for the subtle shift in expression that gave away a liar. The maid fell silent for a moment.
“Not really, no.”
Wyatt let out a deep sigh. “I hate liars.”
“I’m not lying.”
He stared intently at her terrified face, then raised a hand and patted her cheek twice. “You fucking bitch. You took money to keep your mouth shut, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t…”
“No? Then where did she meet the Duke?”
“The… the Duke?”
“It seems you’ve been incredibly lazy.”
He snatched the bills from her hand and returned only three. Her lips trembled with humiliation as she quickly shoved the money into her stocking. Beneath her hitched-up skirt, her thighs were visible, clad in a garter belt and marked with the dried traces of his semen.
“……”
The sight reignited his lust. He felt a surge of vigor, as if he were back in his twenties when the mere sight of a woman made his blood boil. Belatedly noticing the change in his demeanor, the maid tried to flee, but he was faster.
“…I have to go downstairs. They asked me to help prepare breakfast.”
“Do you even do that kind of work?”
“We’re short-handed.”
“There’s plenty of time. And I pay you generously to make up for the lack of staff.”
Wyatt let out a dry laugh at his own words. It sounded ridiculous, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. What he paid his servants monthly was only half a ‘proper’ wage, but even that was too much for the swindlers, whores, and pickpockets he employed. When else would they ever touch this kind of money? When else would they get to work in a castle?
The maid seemed to hesitate for a moment, then let her arms drop limply.
“Come here.”
“It will be dawn soon.”
Ignoring her, he pulled her slender waist toward him. He grabbed her breast and spun her around, drawing a sharp groan from her lips.
“I don’t care.”
“If we do this… since it’s twice… can I get more money?”
“Don’t worry about money anymore, Mary. If this goes well, you could even become a countess.”
“…Is that true?”
“Now, if you understand, you’d better behave.”
He shoved her against a bookshelf, hitched up her skirt, and grabbed her buttocks. Staring at the portraits of the previous counts hanging on the wall, who seemed to look down on the vulgar display, Wyatt burst into a sharp laugh.
“I like it best when I fuck you like a dog in here. This study was a place my birth mother cherished dearly.”
“……”
“She wanted to get rid of every pretty maid right in front of my eyes.”
His father’s portrait, and his mother’s beside it. His relatives, just as noble as his parents, had shuddered and claimed he’d been possessed by a demon since birth. They said that if left alone, he would bring ruin to the family and that it would be better to ship him off to a monastery or the New Continent before he dragged their reputation through the mud.
Of course, they were all dead now. His strict father, his mother who showered him with suffocating affection only when she felt like it, and even his older brother who had remained silent through it all… in a way, his relatives had been right. He was the one who ended up taking their inheritance. To survive was to be strong. Always.
Though now, only a crumb of that land remains.
Once, he had sat contentedly upon the ruins they left behind, dragging the glories of Somerset into the dirt one by one, as if taking revenge on the family that had abandoned him. The substantial savings they left were spent paying off his personal debts, buying a villa for his endless trysts, and funding the gang he’d been involved with before returning home. Then he ran up even more debt in the name of Somerset.
The brakes slammed on his endless debauchery three years ago. With his funds dried up, family heirlooms gambled away, and every business he touched ruined, the last thing he clung to was bootlegging—and even then, he was reduced to picking up crumbs from the big players.
But now, everything will change.
His brother's legacy—a prize he had intended to sell off like a well-fattened sheep—had brought him a new opportunity. A ticket to the inexhaustible golden land of Battenberg.
“Ah…”
A groan burst from the maid’s lips like a firework, her body forced open in a rough tribute to the golden age of Somerset that would bloom once more in his generation.
This was his legacy, built on death and betrayal.
* * *
Her excuse of not feeling well had become a reality by evening. Vanessa, who had gone to bed without dinner, tossed and turned with a fever before waking drenched in a cold sweat. For a moment, dream and reality were so tangled she couldn't tell them apart.
Throughout her sleep, she was plagued by nightmares of being chased. She heard screams, saw a wolf dripping with blood, and felt footsteps following close behind. The dream ended with the dim headlights of a vehicle illuminating people collapsed on the street.
It was so unpleasant that just recalling it sent goosebumps across her skin.
“Mary?”
Looking around the room, shrouded in the deep blue of dawn, Vanessa called out to the maid. Mary’s room was right next door, but no matter how many times she pulled the bell, no one came. She couldn’t sense a presence at all; it seemed Mary had left early.
Vanessa waited a little longer, until the sun had fully risen, before slipping out of bed.
She wanted to take a walk before everyone else woke up. Just a short one to clear her cluttered mind.
Staring at her wardrobe, she decided against getting fully dressed and simply draped a thin shawl over her chemise. She was only going to the Rose Garden, so it wouldn't matter. River Ross wouldn't be there, of course, but at least she could avoid prying eyes.
She walked quickly down the hallway and descended the stairs. Just as she stepped into the first-floor corridor, two men standing at the entrance turned their heads, sensing her presence.
“Vanessa.”