Episode 9
“My name is Bianca. I am the manager of this townhouse.”
“I see.”
Rowena smiled awkwardly and nodded. It seemed the other woman already knew who she was, so there was no need for introductions.
Instead of continuing, Rowena’s gaze drifted to the tray Bianca had brought in.
Warm-looking poached eggs, crisp-looking bread, mandarin marmalade and cream, fresh orange juice. Even a single flower in a charming little vase. They were all things she liked.
As Rowena let out a small sound of admiration, Bianca quietly asked,
“Is it to your liking? This is your meal, Miss Filone.”
“It is. Thank you.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Rowena smiled faintly and turned her eyes toward the balcony.
She could see a round table and chairs. Perhaps she was meant to eat there. Just as she was about to rise, Bianca shook her head.
“His Highness said the outside air may be harmful to your health, so I was instructed to prepare it so you could dine in bed.”
The subject had been omitted, but there was only one person in this place who could give orders.
“Where is His Highness now?”
“He left early this morning to discuss this year’s tax matters with the island’s regent. He said he would return around noon.”
Bianca answered gently, then bent down and took a bed table from beneath the tray. One by one, she transferred the meal she had brought onto it.
“There is a bell on the bedside table, so please call whenever you need anything. And if anything is inconvenient, please feel free to tell me.”
At her attitude, far too courteous for someone addressing a mistress, Rowena opened her mouth instead of answering.
The servants at the previous townhouse had not behaved like this. They had not treated her rudely, but they had observed only the proper minimum of manners; kindness and politeness had been hard to find.
Rowena had found that more comfortable. She was merely the duke’s possession, nothing more. Moreover, this woman was a mid-ranking servant employed by the ducal household. Even if she did not know for certain, she was likely at least of the gentry class.
It would not have been strange if she, like Mrs. Gertrude, had subtly mixed condescension into her polite speech. Yet she was so respectful that it left Rowena flustered.
“Um…”
“Yes?”
Bianca, who had been about to leave after finishing her task, turned back. Rowena cautiously opened her mouth.
“You don’t have to speak so formally to me.”
“…”
“I mean it.”
“My lady.”
While Bianca stiffened at the sudden remark, Melissa rebuked Rowena with her eyes.
“What’s wrong with her being respectful? You’re only receiving the treatment you deserve.”
“That is correct.”
No sooner had Melissa finished speaking than Bianca agreed.
“His Highness instructed us to see that nothing is lacking in our service to you, Miss Filone. So while you are staying here, I hope you will be comfortable.”
* * *
It was near sunset when Killian returned. It seemed his work had ended late. There was a knock, and Bianca opened the door and entered, bowing at the waist.
“You have worked hard again today.”
“Anything to report?”
“Nothing in particular.”
As Bianca answered quietly and took his outer coat, Killian suddenly looked up. At the same time, his eyes met Rowena’s as she looked down at them from the top of the stairs.
The moment their gazes tangled, Rowena froze like a startled rabbit.
Killian was, as always, flawless. Neatly swept-back black hair and pale blue eyes as lightly colored as ice. Broad shoulders, a firm chest, and long, straight legs.
Her heart began to pound. Looking at her face, which had turned bright red in an instant, Killian spoke.
“Miss Filone.”
“...
Your Highness.”
Rowena swallowed dryly. He looked no different from usual, as though last night had been a dream. Cold, composed, his voice without rise or fall.
“Have you eaten?”
“...
No.”
“Then let us dine together.”
“…”
“At a place you like.”
“...
All right.”
Rowena answered shyly. Killian smiled simply and gave an order.
“Then get ready and come out.”
The place they moved to was a restaurant by the Blodel River, known as the lifeline of the capital.
It was a two-story building with a magnificent view overlooking the gently flowing river. When the gas lamps lining the riverside were reflected on the water, the quietly flowing river itself sparkled like stars in the night sky.
Rowena loved gazing down at it endlessly.
“Rowena.”
A low voice called her. Rowena, who had been sitting at a terrace seat and staring blankly at the river, lifted her head.
It was a night with a cool breeze.
Killian had let his bangs fall comfortably, as he did indoors. Beneath his pitch-black fringe, his transparent eyes, like a thin layer of ice over a river, caught her attention.
“How is the new sleeping arrangement?”
“...
It’s nice. Though it’s much larger than I expected.”
The place she had stayed before had been spacious as well, but the new residence was twice as wide.
“And Bianca and the maids?”
“I haven’t seen them all, but… everyone seems kind and attentive.”
Rowena smiled awkwardly and adjusted her grip on her fork.
Today had been full of strange things in many ways. For someone with wealth counted among the greatest in the empire, the duke had always been rather frugal. He had always given her only the best, but he had never held extravagant parties or flaunted his wealth like other nobles.
But tonight was different. Perhaps he had ordered the place cleared out, for there were no people on the terrace or even on the entire second floor besides the two of them.
On the table covered with a white lace tablecloth lay a sumptuous meal that would require an ordinary person’s entire monthly wages to eat.
“That is good. From now on, during the social season, you will stay there.”
Seeming satisfied by her obedient answer, Killian spoke with rare gentleness and cut off a small piece of veal steak, placing it on her plate.
“The sooner you get used to it, the better.”
The cause of it was clear. Rowena set down her utensils again at the sudden notice and hesitantly began.
“Um… but, Your Grace.”
“…”
“What happened to Mrs. Gertrude and the Dowager Duchess?”
The peaceful atmosphere lasted only a moment before the air froze taut, like a thread pulled tight. Beneath the table, Rowena clenched the hem of her skirt.
Killian looked at her with unreadable eyes, then answered quietly.
“Mrs. Gertrude was disciplined, and the Dowager Duchess has decided to recuperate for half a year. You will not have to see either of them again.”
“Ah. I see…”
At the more lenient punishment than she had expected, Rowena let out a small sigh of relief.
Killian watched her with an expressionless face. The Rowena Filone he had observed was a woman with two faces.
A pure and kind country girl, and at the same time, a woman who bewitched men.
Was that sigh of relief also an act? How much was false, and how much was true?
There had been a time when he had been curious, but no longer. Even if all of it was an act, it did not matter.
“Rowena.”
Rowena, who had been calming her heart and taking a sip of wine, raised her head.
“Yes?”
Killian crossed his long legs.
“Do you know a man named William?”
He had pressed her on it, but he did not truly believe Rowena had carried on an illicit affair with him. Felix was an information broker, and he was not a man capable of lying.
Therefore, the claim that Rowena was in an intimate relationship with a man named William was likely a truth laced with malice from Gertrude, who had always looked at her with displeasure.
Contrary to what Gertrude had intended, this incident had produced the exact opposite result. He remembered the moment he had held her last night and run in haste. The chilling sensation of his heart dropping.
The moment something even more intense than when he imagined this woman with another man swept over his chest.
—The infidelity is real! It is the truth, Your Highness! You need only ask her yourself!
Rowena Filone was not a woman he could discard. He had ignored Gertrude’s words as she was dragged away last night. He had expected Rowena to ask him what he meant with her own lips. But no answer came.
For William’s name to come up so suddenly. Had he noticed something?
Her heart pounded quickly. Rowena lowered her eyes.
“Why are you not answering?”
Killian narrowed his eyes and pressed her once more. His voice was as smooth as always, but it was so oppressive that it seemed to tighten around her breath.
Cold sweat ran down Rowena’s back.
Once the book was published and she received the royalties, she intended to reveal it herself. But not now. If he found out she was secretly trying to publish a book, even if she told him honestly, Killian would surely misunderstand and think she was trying to repay her debt and escape him. The consequences would reach William, the publisher, and even Melissa.
He was a man who would dismiss Melissa and have the publishing house shut down without batting an eye. He was the sort of person who acted indifferent on the outside, pretending not to care, then one day did something without a sound or rumor. There had already been one precedent.
Rowena recalled the café on the resort island overlooking the sea.
A place where it had been pleasant to gaze down at the sea and read books, losing all track of time.
While he worked, Killian did not pay much attention to what she did, but the problem occurred one night when it suddenly began to pour.