The Duke and the Nanny (1)
"Angry, you say?"
The one who had been squeezing the life out of Prince Edwin only moments ago was Princess Emilia. Why he was venting his childish frustration on Rachel instead was anyone's guess—young boys truly were an enigma.
"…Me? At Your Highness? As if."
When Rachel replied with an innocent roll of her eyes, Edwin squinted up at her with suspicious, narrow eyes.
"Really? Truly? You're really not mad at me?"
For a little squirt, he was remarkably persistent.
"Aargh!"
Rachel discreetly dug her thumb into the center of his calf, drawing an immediate shriek from the boy.
"Hey! You! What was that for?!"
"Why bring up the Knight Commander in front of me in the first place, Your Highness?"
"What's wrong with talking about Sir Jerome?" Edwin protested, looking terribly wronged. "Didn't you like him too?"
What on earth is he babbling about?
Rachel’s brow furrowed into a deep scowl.
"And what reason under the sun would I have to like that man?"
"Well, you sent me to the Gloria Knights and everything…" Edwin ventured, watching her face with careful hesitation. "I thought you admired Sir Jerome."
"I sent Your Highness there strictly because the Gloria Knights are the finest knight order in the empire."
She had heard rumors that their training regimen was in a league of its own compared to the other divisions. The best always held that title for a reason.
"Not because I hold Duke Jerome Crowner in any personal esteem," she added, her voice laced with distaste.
Edwin hesitated for a moment before murmuring in a small voice, "Then do you dislike Sir Jerome?"
"How could anyone possibly like a man like that?"
At her blunt retort, the boy’s eyes widened like saucers.
"Why do you hate him? Sir Jerome is strong, honorable, and righteous! Isn't he amazing?"
"…Does Your Highness truly wish to know why I dislike him?"
Instead of answering, Edwin nodded vigorously, his large eyes sparkling with unrestrained curiosity.
Rachel stared down at him in silence for a brief moment, then put all her strength into her hands.
"Aaaagh!"
"If you are still awake by the time this massage is finished, I shall tell you."
"Mmph—urghhh!"
Burying his face back into the bedding, Edwin writhed in silent agony.
About thirty minutes passed in that manner.
"Your Highness, we are finished."
Wiping her hands, Rachel rose from the edge of the bed.
"Your Highness?"
"Rayche, brother's night-night! Night-night!"
At Emilia's chirping proclamation, Rachel leaned closer to inspect Edwin. The slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his back made it plain that he had drifted off into a deep slumber.
Well, he has every right to be exhausted.
The knight order's training had proven even harsher than she had anticipated. A solitary tear still glistened at the corner of the boy's closed eye.
Did I knead his muscles a bit too roughly?
A flicker of guilt brushed past her for indulging in such petty spite.
You brought this on yourself for taking Jerome's side, you impudent little prince.
She reached down and tapped the tip of his nose.
"Mmnngh…" Edwin knitted his brows in his sleep, letting out a pitiful whimper.
He isn't half the paragon you make him out to be.
Rachel slipped a nightcoat over his shoulders and pulled the blanket snug beneath his chin.
Besides, I'm stronger than him anyway.
With a gentle flick to the space between his brows, she quietly slipped out of the bedchamber, killing her footsteps so as not to wake Emilia, who was already nodding off peacefully against her chest.
"Nanny! Nannyyyyy!"
At the crack of dawn, someone began pounding on her door as if intent on splintering the wood.
"…What is the matter?"
Rachel had only just laid down to rest. Scowling, she swung the door open, only to be greeted by Catherine's bloodless, paper-white face.
"Th-There's a guest here to see you!"
"A guest? At this ungodly hour…?"
Before she could finish, a massive hand caught the edge of the doorframe.
"A moment of your time, Lady Rachel Brown."
A hulking man draped from head to toe in a deep traveler's cloak stepped into view. The dawn intruder was none other than the Commander of the Gloria Knights—Duke Jerome Crowner.
Strolling through a garden at dawn with a man who had once been her assassination target.
Coming back from the dead truly exposes a person to all manner of absurdities.
"This is my first time visiting the 3rd Prince's Palace. It is quite magnificent."
Jerome offered empty pleasantries regarding the palace scenery. Unable to stomach further idle chatter, Rachel cut straight to the bone.
"What brings Your Grace here at this hour?"
"Are you always this direct?"
"I have little desire to sacrifice my sleep just to hear architectural critiques."
At her prickly retort, the duke let out a low chuckle.
"Haha, you are certainly no ordinary woman." Placing a broad hand against his chest, he continued. "How is Prince Edwin? I heard he collapsed during training earlier today."
"He recovered swiftly. Though he complained of slight muscle soreness."
"Is that so? Well, boys his age tend to have boundless energy to spare."
A subtle gloom shadowed the duke's face as he spoke. Perhaps the thought had reminded him of the notoriously frail First Prince.
After walking in silence for several paces, Jerome came to a halt.
"You hail from commoner stock, Lady Rachel Brown."
"Yes, that is correct."
"Indeed. You were adopted into the Brown County Estate, were you not? Do you keep in frequent contact with your adoptive parents?"
So he ran a thorough background check on me in the meantime.
When Rachel merely responded with a cold scowl, Jerome gave a nonchalant shrug.
"My apologies. I had to verify that you were someone trustworthy."
Even if he turned the Brown estate upside down, he wouldn't uncover a single speck of dirt. The records of 'Kyla Angel' were buried in shadow, but 'Rachel Brown' was nothing more than an ordinary noblewoman on paper.
Still, she wondered what grand proposal required digging into her origins.
"And did you find me trustworthy?"
At her sarcastic inquiry, Jerome offered an awkward smile. "I apologize for suspecting you."
"Then what is your business?"
Rachel fixed him with a sharp glare that silently demanded he stop wasting her time.
The duke cast a brief glance around the deserted garden before lowering his voice.
"Ahem. To tell the truth, I came to present you with an offer."
"What sort of offer?"
"The reason His Highness partakes in our training is surely to condition his body. Am I wrong?"
"…No, that is true."
Jerome's eyes crinkled into a satisfied arch.
"And conditioning the body is merely the prelude to learning the sword." Puffing out his chest like a proud, triumphant goose, he went on. "In truth, watching His Highness push through the drills today moved me deeply."
What does your personal sentiment have to do with me?
Rachel watched him with an unimpressed stare, but Jerome continued undeterred.
"Given your standing, you must face limits in procuring an instructor of true caliber. Therefore…"
With his shoulders thrown back, he announced in a ringing, confident tone:
"I intend to personally take His Highness under my wing and instruct him—"
"I decline."
"—which is why, naturally, you would decline… Wait, what?"
The duke's face froze solid in an instant.
"I am offering to become the Imperial Prince's master. Did you grasp the meaning of my words?"
"Yes. And I stated that I decline. Now, if you will excuse me."
"Why on earth?!"
A look of utter disbelief broke across his features. Sputtering, the duke reached out and seized her wrist.
Ha. I despise people touching my body.
Yet she could hardly snap the arm of a duke in the middle of the imperial grounds.
Rachel flicked a frigid, venomous glare between his hand and his face. Jerome hastily released his grip.
"Forgive my indiscretion. But I must know the reason. Why would you refuse my offer?"
"…Do I owe Your Grace an explanation?"
"No master you could find anywhere on this continent could surpass me!"
How insufferable. He was every bit as arrogant now as he had been in her past life.
"Did Your Grace not declare previously that you would never, under any circumstances, become the prince's master?"
"That was…"
"Furthermore, I have no desire to weather the wrath of the Second Imperial Consort. Nor would His Highness Edwin find any peace of mind under such scrutiny."
Confronted with unassailable logic, the duke fell instantly silent.
"In fact, I should be the one asking questions," Rachel said, smoothing the sleeve he had rumpled. "Why the sudden change of heart? I was under the impression Your Grace held no interest whatsoever in His Highness."
Jerome Crowner was a peerless warrior, but quick-witted improvisation had never been his forte. Before he could cobble together a retort, Rachel pressed her advantage.
"Participation in the knight order's daily training alone. That was the extent of Your Grace's promise, and the sole condition granted by His Majesty. Was it not?"
"Wait, granted by His Majesty? How could you possibly know…?"
"I happened to cross paths with His Majesty outside the barracks. Regrettably, an opportunity arose for us to converse."
Of course, half of that knowledge had come from eavesdropping on their private exchange, but she kept that to herself.
Jerome's mouth merely worked open and closed in wordless shock.
"Therefore, that alone is more than sufficient. Your permission allowing him to join the order's training is already assistance beyond measure. Now, if you will excuse me."
Offering a pristine, formal curtsey, she turned on her heel.
"Halt right there! I gave you no leave to depart!"
Infuriating to the bitter end.
Rachel turned back toward the bellowing commander.
"I beg your pardon, Duke Crowner, but I am not a hound you keep on a leash."
"What did you say?"
"I am not an animal that comes when you whistle and stays when you command."
Jerome's face twisted into an expression of thunderous fury. A low, threatening growl vibrated in his chest.
"Insolence has its limits, girl. Do you truly comprehend whom you are addressing?"
"You disappoint me, Duke Crowner," Rachel replied without flinching, her expression not shifting by a millimeter. "I had thought you were a man above hiding behind mere rank."
Jerome's eyebrows shot up in sheer disbelief.
Did he really imagine dropping his voice to sound intimidating would strike terror into her?
"Since Your Grace appears incapable of understanding my refusal, allow me to speak plainly."
Rachel closed the distance between them, stepping forward until the space between their chests vanished to a mere whisper.
"I do not trust you."
Her reflection flickered in Jerome's stunned eyes.
Wearing a visage of unblemished docility, 'Rachel Brown' offered him an entirely harmless smile.
"That is the single, solitary reason I refuse your offer."