Chapter 29
Clang.
The glass fell with a sharp sound.
“Miss?”
Melissa, who had been on her way back to her room and came running at the loud noise, looked startled.
“My goodness! Are you all right? You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”
“Ah, I’m fine.”
Rowena nodded, looking a little dazed.
“While I was bringing your medicine… Oh dear……”
“I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up.”
“No, it’s all right. That’s my job. Please wait a moment. I’ll call Joanne. Here’s your medicine.”
“...
Thank you.”
What Melissa handed her was a sedative and a sleeping pill.
Ever since the day she had gone boating with Killian, she had suffered from insomnia for five days, so this had become part of her daily routine. As she reached out with her right hand, the tip of her index finger stung. A shard must have flown up; blood was visible where she had been cut. Rowena clenched her hand into a fist to hide it and accepted the medicine with her left.
It was the middle of the night when she woke from the deep sleep the medicine had brought on. Rowena’s eyes flew open at the sensation of a hand holding hers. At the same time, she met the ice-colored eyes looking down at her from where he sat by the head of the bed.
“...
You’re awake.”
“Your Grace.”
“You had hurt your hand. I applied some medicine for now. Just in case, have the physician look at it.”
He had gone to the capital on urgent business, so it was the first time she had seen his face in five days. Rowena quietly looked up at him.—I sincerely hope that Your Grace and Miss Philone will be happy. But no relationship can be built upon deception.—Then the reason you showed me this portrait was…….—Because I hoped you might come even a little closer to the truth and build a genuine relationship.
At Benedict’s words, everything had become clear. And all her questions along with it.
This tenderness had never been hers to begin with. She remembered the answer she had received when she asked why he was being so kind.
Because I need you.
What he wanted was the shell of the girl he had loved.
Five years ago, what the maids had said when they spoke of the duke’s fiancée betrothed to him from the womb had been true. There had been no reason to be jealous of his former wife, either. Both she and Rowena must have been substitutes all the same.
“Killian.”
During the five days he was gone, she had cried and laughed beneath the blankets for a long, long time.
Her heart had already been hacked to pieces five years ago. But over those five days, she realized that fragments of it had still remained.
The heart she had barely gathered back into shape had now burned away, leaving not even ashes behind.
If she could have shown him, she wanted to split open her chest and show this cruel man that heart reduced to ash. She wondered what face he would make then, what words he would say, what eyes he would use to look at her.
But since she could not, she had to do what she could now.
Mistress. Toy. Substitute.
Whatever he called her, all she had to do was use it. She would use this shell to fawn on him, make him lower his guard, and then run away.
“While you were away, I thought carefully. About my feelings……”
She reached out and drew the man’s tendon-corded hand toward her. She placed his palm, cold and smooth like a snake’s scales, against her cheek.
“Over the past five years……”
“……”
“My heart… missed you terribly.”
Tears slid down from the corners of her eyes. She could not tell whose tense breathing it was.
“So very much.”
He lowered his head. Rowena willingly parted her lips to receive him.
Now it was this man’s turn to bite into the poisoned apple.
Just as she had done eight years ago.
It was from that night onward.
The relationship between Killian and Rowena, which had seemed like a walk along a precarious tightrope, transformed completely. Toward Rowena, who had declared her utter defeat, Killian became more generous and tender than ever before.
They fell asleep together every night, and when she opened her eyes the next day, the empty place beside her would be filled with flowers freshly picked that morning, tied with satin ribbons and laid there like gifts.
The owners of famous dress salons came and went day and night, and renowned jewelers crossed the drawbridge so often their footsteps seemed to wear it down.
Once she truly began to eat and sleep well, Rowena’s faded beauty bloomed again like a flower in full blossom. Flesh returned to her hollow cheeks, and vitality came back to her sunken eyes.
Her small, feeble voice, once like an old woman’s, gradually changed into that of a warbler in the midst of spring, and her body, which had barely escaped being nothing but bones, recovered the graceful and elegant curves it once had.
Unlike Melissa, who was already used to that appearance, Joanne, who attended Rowena alongside her, rubbed her eyes several times a day, wondering whether this was truly the same woman she had first seen. Yet no matter how much she rubbed them, the thin, haggard woman with hollow eyes had vanished like a crescent moon, leaving only a lively, gentle, and irresistibly charming woman behind.
Her beauty reached its height on the night of the masked ball for the eve festival.
As elegant music wrapped around the spacious banquet hall, the invited nobles were spending a happy and convivial time together.
The center of the eve festival banquet was, without question, the young men and women. Ladies had adorned their hair with fresh flowers in the dead of winter and disguised themselves as fairies or as women from tragic history. Gentlemen had swept up their hair without a single stray strand and dressed in jet-black tailcoats according to their chosen themes.
Joanne watched them dance to the music and exchange silent, secret signals with dazed eyes before turning her head.
Among all the peacockishly splendid people, the ones who stood out most were the master and host of the banquet, the Duke of Devonshire, and his mistress.
Among the beautifully adorned women, Miss Philone was by far the one who drew the eye.
After speaking with people for some time, she led the duke to the main hall. Wearing a single layer of pure white dress and a tiara set with red rubies carved like butterflies, Rowena was the very image of a goddess from a masterpiece.
The orchestra on the balcony slowly began to play. It was a piece both elegant and sensual.
Moving her feet in time with his lead, Rowena bent her waist back like a supple branch, then once again embraced his neck as though nestling into his arms.
Admiration, envy, jealousy, longing. The gazes of the audience, filled with many emotions, were fixed upon them. As soon as the dance ended, several seconds of silence followed.
The spellbound people soon burst into passionate applause. Amid the pouring acclaim, Rowena smiled brightly and looked toward Joanne and Melissa, who were standing against the wall.
The first to notice her gaze was Joanne, who, like everyone else, had been staring at Rowena as though bewitched. Startled, Joanne nudged Melissa, who was looking only at the floor.
“Melissa.”
“Mm……?”
“Miss Philone is saying something. What is she saying?”
Narrowing her eyes to see more clearly, Joanne concentrated on trying to decipher the meaning of those red lips.
But it was no use. Though it had not been very long, she had still served at her side, and yet she could not understand what she was saying.
“I’ll go.”
While Joanne tilted her head, trying to read the signal, Melissa picked up a cocktail from the silver tray of a nearby waiter and abruptly made her way through the people toward Rowena.
“Miss.”
“Melissa.”
Buried among the people, the duke was no longer in sight. Holding out the glass, Melissa asked carefully,
“You were saying you were thirsty, weren’t you?”
“That’s right. As expected, Melissa understands right away. Thank you.”
Smiling with her eyes, Rowena accepted the glass and took a sip. The cold cocktail slid down her throat and tightened her esophagus.
“Aren’t you drinking too much? You already seem a little drunk……”
Melissa, who had not expected her to drain it all in one swallow, asked worriedly.
She could not help but worry. Beneath the chandelier, Rowena’s cheeks, made up splendidly, were noticeably red. It might have looked like a seductive flush, but it also resembled the cheeks of someone tipsy.
“You never used to overdrink before.”
Both women knew that “before” meant five years ago. Ha ha. Letting out a small laugh, Rowena handed the glass to a passing waiter.
“Overdrink? On this much?”
“Miss……”
“I’m tired. His Grace seems busy, so I should go rest now. Will you come with me? Just you.”
“Yes…, of course.”
Melissa supported Rowena’s body as it swayed on her high heels and nodded.—Fruit that has ripened fully and is just on the verge of rotting gives off the sweetest fragrance, Melissa.
As Melissa looked at Rowena, she tried to shake off those words her mother had once spoken. Unlike the noisy banquet hall, the second floor was quiet. Rowena did not return to her bedroom, but sat down in a chair on the spacious terrace.
“Ah. I feel alive again.”
The slightly chilly air cooled the heat at the nape of her neck. At the pleasant sensation, Rowena pulled her thick shawl closer and tilted her head back. Watching her in silence, Melissa hesitated before speaking.
“I’ll bring you a thick blanket.”
“Thank you.”
Rowena did not open her eyes. Melissa turned to leave, but a quiet call caught her steps just as she was about to go farther away.
“Oh, right. Melissa.”
“Yes?”
“That day. Didn’t you have something you were going to say to me?”
“What do you mean……”
“It seemed like you wanted to say something, but the baron arrived.”
“Ah.”
Turning back again, Melissa swallowed dryly.
“I was just going to say that I was so glad to see you, and that I had wanted to see you again.”
“Ah. I see……”
Her answering voice was faint. Melissa left the terrace as though fleeing.
With the sound of the glass door closing behind her, Rowena, left alone on the empty terrace, looked at the bracelet on her wrist. It was a bracelet made of platinum of the purest density, densely set with diamonds.
Rowena thought of the ring she had lost.
The ring she had foolishly worn until the day she was abandoned. And the ring she had kept with her until the very end. She had deceived herself by thinking she had brought it because it might be worth money, but in truth, it had been a single piece of lingering attachment she could not throw away.
At twenty. At twenty-three. Rowena Philone had been that foolish and that pathetic.
She was no longer even curious about the whereabouts of the ring she did not know when she had lost.
Recently, seeing her as she had been five years ago, Killian had been satisfied. Even the surveillance that once had someone attached to her wherever she went to monitor her every move had grown a little looser. As a test, she had left the banquet hall with only Melissa, and no gaze had immediately followed her.
Just a little more. If she endured just a little longer, she could escape this place.