Chapter 66
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 66
"The Duke has offered to give Sister Harriet a ride on his way back."
"What? Me? In the Ducal House's carriage?"
"I’m the only one in there anyway, so there’s plenty of room," Cedric added smoothly.
It was certainly welcome news. Harriet had been worried that Trisha might grow anxious if she stayed another day. However, the thought of spending three or four hours sitting inches away from Cedric in a confined space already made her skin crawl with discomfort.
But in this situation, I can't exactly refuse.
Harriet offered an awkward smile and ultimately accepted the offer.
The residents of the convent gathered to wave goodbye as Harriet hastily packed her belongings and boarded Cedric’s carriage.
"Thank you for your hospitality. Please, stay healthy until we meet again."
"You as well, Sister Harriet. Please don't overexert yourself; look after your health. I’ll pray that you always remain under the blessing of Yawar."
With Catherine’s final farewell, the carriage door clicked shut, and the wheels began to roll. Harriet leaned out the window to wave, but the carriage didn't wait for her lingering regrets to fade, picking up speed instead.
Emma, watching the carriage disappear alongside Catherine and Agnes, spoke with an excited flush. "The Duke is so kind-hearted. He donates so much, and he never ignores a woman in a difficult spot."
At Emma’s words, Catherine’s lips curled into a peculiar smile. "I wonder."
She had a feeling that while Cedric was a consummate gentleman, he wasn't the type to easily cross the lines drawn between social classes. Nor was he one to offer kindness beyond what was strictly necessary.
Was it truly out of mere consideration that he had taken Harriet with him?
"It's too soon to tell," Catherine murmured.
Emma tilted her head, not understanding the remark, but Catherine merely smiled and turned back toward the convent.
*
Clatter, clatter.
A stately four-horse carriage traveled along the country road, where the white snow was stained orange by the glow of the evening sunset. The carriage, subtly engraved with the Kailas Family crest, moved forward with steady grace, unswayed even as the half-melted snow turned the road into a muddy mess.
As expected of a Ducal House carriage. It barely shakes.
Inside, Harriet’s eyes darted up, down, left, and right, surveying the interior. She had thought the Fellon Family’s carriage was quite nice, but this was on a different level entirely. A four-horse carriage with two coachmen just for one person? Was this the standard for the truly wealthy?
Whatever it is, I wish he’d stop staring at me.
The truth was, Harriet couldn't find a place to rest her eyes because Cedric, sitting directly opposite her, had been watching her intently for some time. It was a blatant breach of etiquette, but Harriet stubbornly kept her mouth shut. Cedric wasn't a man who lacked manners; his staring was a silent command: You speak first.
She knew it was childish, but she didn't want to back down in this battle of wills.
I might be short on funds, but I certainly don't lack spine.
She was pretending to look out the window with practiced nonchalance when she heard a soft chuckle. She should have kept her wits about her and continued to ignore him, but her gaze involuntarily snapped toward him.
"Miss Harriet, you amuse me every time we meet."
Harriet merely blinked, genuinely baffled. What on earth was he talking about? She had never once tried to be "amusing" for this man.
"Me...?"
Finding even that reaction entertaining, Cedric let out a low, rumbling laugh. "Still, you should have told me about the <Clarissa> brand plan first."
"I thought you’d be busy with the year-end, so I planned to tell you when we met later. Surely, Your Grace isn't... sulking?"
"Hahahaha!"
Cedric found the word 'sulking' hilarious—likely because he had never heard it directed at him in his life—but Harriet couldn't for the life of her understand why he was bursting into laughter.
They say some people laugh more when they’re angry. Is he one of them?
Seeing Harriet’s strained expression, unable to even fake a polite laugh, Cedric felt a strange sense of satisfaction. It had been a long time since he’d met someone who regarded him so casually. It was almost refreshing.
I’ve never considered a woman as a business partner before. But with her... well, it’s not bad.
A woman with guts and intelligence, who harbored no ulterior motives toward him—she was a rare breed.
"When were you planning to stop by? The year is almost over."
"I’ll be receiving the three-month settlement report for October through December from the accountant soon. I planned to see you then."
"Are you confident?"
Confident about what? Harriet felt like she only understood half of what Cedric was saying, but she pushed through regardless.
"Is it a matter of being confident? I’d be happy if there’s a large net profit, of course, but even if there isn't, one must be honest and disclose everything to the investor, shouldn't they?"
Just then, as the carriage rounded a curve, the dying sunset grazed Harriet’s eyes. Cedric’s gaze was momentarily captivated by that subtle, fleeting light. A smile, soft as the sunset itself, spread across his lips.
"This industry is full of people who can't do something so obvious."
"Hiding profits from an investor? Isn't that... a crime?"
"Essentially. They always get caught eventually, and then come the excuses. That it was a mistake, or a misunderstanding."
A scene from the past flashed through Harriet’s mind like a lightning strike.
“Why do all guilty people love the word ‘misunderstanding’? Do they think I’ll overlook it if they say that?”
Cedric’s cold words, spat at her when she had tried to explain that she hadn't stolen the brooch—that there was some misunderstanding. The memory sent a sudden chill through her, and Harriet’s expression stiffened.
"Miss Harriet...?"
Sensing the sudden shift in her, Cedric called her name. Harriet spoke before she could even organize her thoughts.
"Among them, there might be people who truly made a mistake. People whom Your Grace simply misunderstood. What they said might not have been an excuse, but the truth."
Cedric’s gentle expression slowly hardened into something more familiar. "Should I consider every single one of those circumstances? From the start, conducting oneself well enough to avoid misunderstandings is part of the investment conditions."
"Even if one acts perfectly, errors can occur! Due to someone else's meddling or unforeseen circumstances, for example. But when such situations arise, from my position, no matter how much I explain, the truth just won't be heard!"
"Won't be heard..."
Cedric was momentarily stunned by the raw emotion in her voice. Then, he let out a light, hollow laugh. "Indeed. Miss Harriet, it seems you can't help but represent that position."
Of course. Harriet was, after all, just a businesswoman who had received investment funds from him. Yet, she couldn't understand why his words felt so disheartening.
The two fell into a heavy silence, staring out their respective windows as the carriage passed over a shallow hill.
Suddenly, the carriage jolted violently. It ground to a halt, as if a wheel had been swallowed by the earth. Cedric frowned and slid open the small window leading to the coachman’s box.
"What’s the matter?"
"My apologies, Your Grace! The mud hid it, but it seems the road has a deep rut. The wheel is caught, but I’ll have it fixed right away."
"Do we need to disembark?"
"No, Your Grace! It’s just that... if the lady accompanying you could sit next to Your Grace, it would make things a bit easier."
Cedric looked at Harriet. Having heard the exchange, Harriet stood up awkwardly.
"If it’s inconvenient, I can step out for a moment."
"Ah, no!" the coachman added apologetically. "It’s just better if more weight is placed toward the front of the carriage."
"So it seems," Cedric said. "Miss Harriet, I apologize for the inconvenience, but I’d appreciate your cooperation."
"As someone getting a free ride, this is nothing..."
Harriet smiled awkwardly and sat down next to Cedric. She made sure to leave a good two hand-spans of space between them, assuming he wouldn't want her too close. Still feeling the prickle of embarrassment, she stared needlessly out the window.
The coachman’s assistant pulled out a tool and wedged it under the rear wheel, likely trying to use it as a lever. When he gave the signal, the coachman cracked his whip over the four horses.
"Hyah! Hyah!"
Each time he urged the horses, the carriage swayed violently. Harriet’s hand, which had been gripping the edge of the seat for stability, slipped—and landed directly on top of Cedric’s hand.
"Ah! Th-that wasn't intentional!"
"...I know."
Harriet snapped her head away, grumbling under her breath. Why did he have his hand on the seat, too?
The atmosphere became unbearably thick. The assistant hammered the wedge deeper, and the coachman urged the horses again. The carriage felt more wobbly than before, a sign that the wheel was finally budging.
I need something to do with my hands.
Uncomfortable just sitting there, Harriet reached into her handbag for her rosary, hoping to regain her composure. She figured if she focused on the beads and recited a few prayers, Cedric wouldn't look at her so strangely.
But just as she was pulling the rosary out—