♡ TL: Khadija SK
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Two days had passed since Theodore and Viscount Easton held a profound conversation.
Hazel didn’t know the details of what transpired between them, but that day, Theodore left without seeing her.
Yet Hazel harbored no resentment.
“Miss Hazel, a letter has arrived from Miss Viola.”
“Thank you, Anne.”
Hazel hastily opened the letter from Viola.
It was filled with bold handwriting, hardly believable as a woman’s.
“When should I come to collect the reply?”
Anne asked.
Hazel shook her head after swiftly finishing the letter, looking at Anne with sparkling eyes.
“No need for a reply. I’ll go out today.”
“Out? When?”
“Now! Right away!”
Shortly after, Hazel informed Viscount Easton and Lady Easton that she wished to breathe some fresh air, then stepped out onto the street with Anne.
Viscount Easton offered to accompany her, but when Hazel put on a glum expression and said she wanted to be alone, he stepped back.
Hazel took Anne and departed at once.
The carriage carrying Hazel and Anne headed to Westside Park.
“I’ll spend time with Viola, so enjoy yourself freely, and we’ll meet again in two hours.”
Anne, her eyes filled with hesitation, said:
“If it’s discovered I left you alone, I’ll be scolded. You know that, don’t you?”
“Then rest well without being found out.”
Deep within Westside Park, Anne parted from Hazel.
It was near the hill where she’d previously met Theodore.
Hazel glanced around, then ran toward the hill.
There stood Viola.
Or rather, Theodore, who had borrowed Viola’s name.
On that Friday, despite Viscount Easton’s opposition, Theodore summoned Hazel under Viola’s name to keep his promise.
“It’s been a while, Miss Hazel.”
Theodore kissed the back of her hand.
Hazel felt his rough lips against the bare skin of her hand, ungloved.
It wasn’t like him, a man who usually took impeccable care of himself.
Was he distressed because of Viscount Easton?
Hazel’s features darkened instinctively.
“Your Grace, are you truly well?”
Theodore’s letters were always filled with nothing but delightful matters.
His daily life brimmed with diverse friends and lighthearted amusements.
His lifestyle didn’t align with Hazel’s tastes, but merely reading about his activities brought her joy.
If she judged his life by the letters’ contents, he should have gained extra weight and grown more radiant, yet upon meeting him, his jawline was sharper than before, and his skin dry.
He looked like someone who’d suffered greatly over a few days.
“Why? Do I look like I haven’t slept in days?”
“Yes. Exactly like that.”
“Pity… I rose at dawn to prepare myself to look good before you, Miss Hazel, but it seems that effort was in vain.”
Hazel naturally took his words as a jest.
A man rising at dawn to primp, rather than a woman, was unthinkable in this world.
Moreover, to look good for her?
In any case, Theodore had an innate gift for making people—men and women alike—feel at ease.
Hazel felt relieved that he had the energy to joke.
“Shall we walk a bit? If your time permits.”
“Even if I had no time, I’d make some for you. You used Viola’s pseudonym to write me that letter, all to keep your promise to me.”
Viola was a fictitious persona Theodore had invented, unable to contact Hazel directly due to Viscount Easton’s opposition to their relationship.
Through this name, he’d kept in constant touch with her, which was why she felt no bitterness despite his lack of visits.
Instead, she felt gratitude.
“True. At this point, I’m starting to think your tastes are as I suspected.”
“What do you mean?”
“That men disguise themselves as women? At least in name, you’ve made me masquerade as one.”
“Your Grace!”
Hazel recoiled.
Theodore burst into clear, resounding laughter.
His booming laugh startled the birds in the treetops, sending them fluttering noisily.
Hazel wished he’d stop laughing quickly so she could clarify the misunderstanding, but his laughter didn’t subside easily.
After a moment, faint giggles began escaping Hazel’s lips as she stared at him.
Theodore’s pure, refreshing laughter was contagious, and soon Hazel erupted into laughter too, doubling over and clutching her stomach from its intensity.
An unrestrained laugh, without covering her face with a fan, her lips parted wide— with each breath of ceaseless fresh air, Hazel felt her mind and heart purify.
She didn’t know what was so funny. But she felt so happy it made her laugh.
After a long while, the laughter finally subsided.
Both, having laughed until their stomachs nearly burst, felt exhausted and exchanged looks with weary faces.
Hazel, her cheeks flushed, said:
“Laughter is tiring too.”
Her face still glowed with delight.
Her rosy cheeks, smiling lips, and crescent-like eyes were all enchanting.
“Indeed.”
Theodore agreed and extended his arm.
Hazel stepped to his side and took it. They began walking together.
“Did my father say something harsh?”
Hazel had wanted to ask for a while but couldn’t pose the question in a letter, so she’d held it until now.
The advantage of writing was that it concealed emotions, but for that very reason, some words couldn’t be put to paper.
Her question now was of that kind.
A letter couldn’t carry the full weight of her apology and concern.
“No. He said what any father who loves his daughter might.”
“I’m grateful you think that way.”
“I didn’t say it to ease your heart, Miss Hazel. It’s what I truly felt.”
When Viscount Easton asked, “Are you certain you love Hazel more than I do?” Theodore felt as if a hammer had struck his head.
He felt diminished compared to his past self, when he’d rushed toward marriage—a sacred duty—merely to avoid losing his inheritance to another.
He also felt disgust at himself for, despite his clear admiration for Hazel, not yet being sure it was love.
Most infuriating was his inability to let her go despite his wavering feelings.
Yet he’d summoned her under the pretext of a promise.
Theodore’s features darkened.
Hazel watched his face, once radiant with bright laughter, sink into shadow.
Then she voiced the words swirling in her mouth:
“Your Grace, since we’ve reached this point, let’s consider our contract null.”
Theodore stopped walking and looked at Hazel. She stopped too and faced him.
His eyes were deeper than usual.
“I can’t do that.”
“If it’s about my reputation, there’s no need to worry. I’m not one with a reputation in high society to begin with.”
“Miss Hazel…”
Theodore’s chest ached at her coolness.
She possessed a refined character, distinguished knowledge, and striking beauty, yet her self-regard was so slight.
Was it because of her origins?
Instead of comforting her immediately, Theodore stated his view in a firm tone:
“Thanks to Viscount Easton’s opposition, I’ve become more certain.”
Hazel blinked.
Each flutter of her long lashes sent an itch through Theodore’s chest.
“Hazel.”
Theodore stepped forward. He caught her hand as it instinctively drew back warily, then leaned slightly to meet her eyes.
“In truth, I don’t fully understand my heart’s feelings. But one thing I’m certain of: since meeting you, I can no longer imagine any other woman standing by my side, sharing my life.”
Hazel realized why Theodore looked into her eyes.
Unable to bare his soul to show his heart, he showed her his steady gaze instead.
To say there was no falsehood in his words.
Hazel’s heart trembled.
She couldn’t become a duchess. But the moment she met his direct gaze, she understood too.
The contract had been too hasty, and her plan to quietly end it and return to being friends was flawed from the start.
The moment the contract ended, Hazel would lose Theodore, a good friend.
That saddened her deeply.
She opened her mouth cautiously:
“My father is very stubborn.”
“Just one question. Do you hate me, Hazel?”
“It’s not that, but…”
As Hazel turned her head, Theodore quickly said “Pardon me” and grasped her chin.
His hand didn’t touch her directly due to the glove, but the spot he held grew warm.
“Please don’t avoid my eyes.”
Theodore politely requested they not lie to each other.
Hazel nodded slightly, and he withdrew his hand.
“I don’t hate you, Sir Theodore.”
“That’s enough for me…”
“But—”
Hazel interrupted Theodore, then took a deep breath.
She had to say it now, to stop him from shaking her further.
“Your Grace, I have something to tell you.”
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