CHAPTER 29
The Duke left Rodinia and went to Farrington. Just knowing he wasn’t at the manor gave her a sense of freedom, but she still couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in the dark.
In the pitch-black behind her tightly closed eyelids, the face of Sir Corbin—whom she had seen a few days prior—flashed across her mind. At that, Vivianne slowly opened her eyes, despite her efforts to force herself to sleep.
“Sir… Corbin? I feel like I’ve heard that name before…”
She couldn’t quite remember if his appearance was familiar. She had been so nervous and trembling that all she remembered was his bushy beard. She couldn’t picture his gaze when he greeted her, the shape of his nose, or the lips hidden beneath his beard—none of it came to mind.
“Corbin, Corbin…”
She muttered the surname, trying to dredge up memories buried deep in her mind, but nothing surfaced.
In the end, Vivianne got out of bed and walked to the window. A cool early summer night breeze drifted in through the door Sophie had left wide open.
Knowing this delight wouldn’t last long, she comforted herself with the thought that her sleeplessness tonight was an opportunity to savor it.
Vivianne sat on the windowsill, pulling her legs up. She glanced down, and the dizzying height made her shudder. Shifting her gaze from the ground, she looked out at the seemingly endless horizon.
The sun didn’t seem like it would ever rise from the darkness that filled the horizon. The suffocating thought of being forever trapped in that abyss of darkness made her yearn to see Lake Lannoy.
Vivianne hugged her knees tightly and buried her face in them.
Father, you’re alive, aren’t you?
She wished for an answer to her question.
Mother, did you read my letter?
She had hoped it would bring even a small glimmer of hope.
I can overcome this. I’m okay. I can do it. Mother, I will become a daughter you can be proud of.
By the time Vivianne lifted her head, the darkness was receding, and the sky was turning a deep blue.
It felt as though time had passed quickly. Then she realized she must have briefly dozed off when she buried her face earlier. Despite that, she was relieved she hadn’t lost her balance and fallen.
The twilight horizon, which she had thought would be filled with endless darkness, was dazzling. The golden, resplendent sun was slowly beginning to show its face.
When Humphrey was young, he worked as a servant for Baron Baytness in Olren. When the baron’s only son died in an accident, the baroness lost her mind, and the baron vanished completely.
The couple, devastated by the loss of their beloved son, fell into decline. Ready to endure any kind of ruin, they seemed resigned to their fate.
Then, one day, the baron returned unexpectedly. The servants had hoped the Baytness family would return to its former glory. However, not long after his return, the baron brought home a little girl. He persuaded the baroness to become the guardian of the poor child. Still consumed by grief, the baroness argued bitterly over the new ward.
And then, on another day, the baroness took in a boy who delivered milk to the household. Gradually, she began to see her deceased son in the boy, which eased her torment. Her once-maddening grief, which had seemed to drag her toward death, began to wane, and she slowly returned to her former self.
As the carriage bearing the Baytness family crest rolled in, the lined-up servants stood at attention. Humphrey, calm and collected, greeted Edwin with a gentle smile as he appeared through the opening doors.
No one had predicted that the spiteful boy, once full of venom in his blue eyes, would one day raise the name of Baytness to the pinnacle of Neway. Humphrey had feared that this boy might become nothing more than another victim of the perpetual storm cloud hanging over the baron’s household.
From a humble orphan wandering the Port of Olren to the son of a baron, from a soldier of Neway who rose to an officer who changed the course of its history, and from a businessman once laughed at for his failures, he had become a nobleman, carving the name of New Money into Neway’s aristocracy.
His tumultuous life story had concluded with him attaining perfect status and honor. But there was one thing: even for a man sprinting down a well-paved path, there were always concerns surrounding him.
“There are some measures written inside.”
As Edwin entered the manor, he handed over a folded note.
“Order dresses according to the measurements. Simple, not extravagant—about ten of them. If ten aren’t enough for a woman who owns no clothes, then order more as needed.”
Humphrey’s wrinkled eyes blinked in disbelief.
Even after Edwin had relocated from Rottermond to Farrington, due to work at the company, he had received countless letters filled with concerns from the Baroness Baytness in Rottermond.
Was there no woman Edwin was interested in? Or was he already seeing someone? If so, when would the wedding be? If he wasn’t seeing anyone or didn’t have someone he liked, perhaps an “accidental” meeting could be arranged. Why wasn’t he getting married? Was it possible that he liked men instead?
The letters, which always began with worries and questions, inevitably ended with the Baroness venting her frustration about her son, who seemed to avoid women altogether. Humphrey had come to firmly believe that his master, who never paid attention to the women pursuing him, simply wasn’t interested in them.
And yet, now, he was being told to order women’s dresses.
Humphrey, still dumbfounded, suddenly opened the note and checked. Edwin had mentioned it was for a woman who owned no clothes, so it clearly wasn’t for Charlotte—but Humphrey felt compelled to confirm it with his own eyes.
Edwin stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the unresponsive Humphrey. Hastily folding the note again, Humphrey straightened his expression.
“Yes. I’ll prepare them.”
“Have the dresses sent to the manor in Rodinia.”
“… Yes, Your Grace.”
The measurements he had glimpsed briefly were not Charlotte’s. There was no need to wonder whose they might be—it was obvious. And this, too, was something the Baroness Baytness had worried about.
Could it be… the former owner of Rodinia Castle, the Avelines’ only daughter…?
Humphrey took a deep breath. The situation was alarming enough as it was, and he decided he should draft a letter to the Baroness tonight.
It felt as if the sighs of the Baroness, heavy with concern, were blowing in on the open breeze.
The manor in Farrington, while not as grand as the duke’s manor in Rodinia, was renowned for its splendor, ranking among the finest in the capital.
As soon as Edwin arrived, he headed to where Sir Corbin was waiting. The two men, having met not long ago, exchanged greetings.
As was customary, Corbin began the conversation with compliments. He praised Edwin’s abilities, noting how, at such a young age, he had amassed great wealth, been granted dukedom, and gained admiration from both the nobility and common folk.
Moreover, Corbin, listing countless events where Edwin had excelled on the battlefield, expressed his regret that Edwin was not a Prestonian. Edwin, however, modestly attributed his success to luck.
“In any case, what was once a bleak situation has now turned hopeful with the arrival of a great figure like the Duke of Baytness. Everyone’s morale is high. If things proceed as you’ve outlined, there will be no objections to our plans. And considering how significant this individual is, they too will undoubtedly be overjoyed.”
Edwin smiled coolly and, swirling the brandy in his glass, gazed into the undulating liquid.
“Would I be any different? I really came across this hope by chance, and it feels as if I’ve found the missing piece in my plans. I, too, am glad to have learned about their existence. Now I can secure the legitimacy I was missing.”
“Isn’t it fascinating how fate works? To think that both parties were so desperately in need of one another. It almost feels like encountering a destined love.”
Corbin burst into hearty laughter, and Edwin raised his brandy glass in agreement.
“Until I received your letter, you seemed so distant—a nobleman from another country. But now that I know you, you feel more like a brother by blood, especially since the dreaded rumors had already reached Preston before I set foot on Neway’s soil.”
“As you can see, I’m not much of a man of distinction.”
“Forgive me, but may I ask a personal question?”
Feeling they had grown closer, Corbin adopted a more casual demeanor. Edwin responded with a permissive smile.
“Given your exceptional talents and how you must have captured the hearts of many women in Neway, why haven’t you married yet? If you don’t mind, I’d even be happy to arrange a meeting with my youngest daughter.”
Edwin calmly set his brandy glass down.
“What we, Sir Corbin, and the people we are working with are trying to achieve is no easy task. I’d rather not make a loving wife into a widow.”
Even though his tone remained formal, his words were sincere. The mention of “widow” seemed to catch Corbin off guard; his eyes fluttered slightly.
Having brought up his youngest daughter just moments ago, Corbin broke into a nervous sweat. Attempting to dispel the awkward atmosphere, he forced a smile and gulped down the brandy he hadn’t even intended to drink.
“It seems like it’s time to hear about your side. I’d like to know the details of the situation at court and the state of Mayr.”
The previously relaxed air instantly grew taut. Corbin’s bushy-bearded lips turned downward, his once-gentle gaze hardened, and his eyes seethed with anger.
“The king is ruling with tyranny, and all the nobles are clinging to him, enjoying unprecedented power. Just recently, the Marquis of Hoover spoke out about taxes and the war, and the king executed him on the spot.”
Corbin’s clenched fist trembled with rage, as though the memory of that day had come flooding back to him.
“The king ignores state affairs, filling the palace with countless mistresses, indulging in nothing but pleasure and debauchery. How could such a king see the people trembling in fear because of the war in the neighboring country? Or notice the citizens dying from the reckless exploitation of the nobles?”
Corbin’s anger had turned to tears, moistening the corners of his eyes.
“If I had known it would come to this, I should have listened to Aveline’s words back then…”
“No amount of regret will change anything now.”
Edwin’s firm tone aligned with Corbin’s sentiments. There was an irretrievable regret written all over Corbin’s eyes.
“Sooner or later, we’ll dethrone Mayr.”
Edwin’s voice brimmed with certainty as he stirred the liquid in the crystal glass, deliberately creating a turbulent wave. The one who had conjured this storm dove in without hesitation.
“To put it more appropriately, I will do it with my own hands.”
The brandy, still once again, slipped between Edwin’s lips. The taste was sweet, as always. And his satisfied smile was more peaceful than ever.
“So, I’m eager to meet that person. Are they still not here yet?”
