FTP-95

“If you wait here for a moment, I will bring water for you to wash your hands.”

 

“I could just go myself—”

 

Before Anje could finish her sentence, Aiden stood up and exaggeratedly bent one knee.

 

“Leave it to your servant, my dear lady. How could I let such a noble hand perform a menial task?”

 

She chuckled softly and, in a playful tone, waved her hand delicately.

 

“If you insist, Sir, I suppose I have no choice. I’ll send you off with tears and kisses to ensure your safe return.”

 

Recently, they had taken to playing a little game where they acted as a knight and a lady. It was a silly pastime without any real context, so much so that they couldn’t even recall how it started.

 

Nevertheless, as they exchanged these playful remarks, both of them wore smiles that stretched to their ears.

 

Love had that kind of power—to make even the silliest antics feel delightful.

 

If Anje were to point at a rolling leaf and say, ‘Oh my, Aiden, isn’t that hilarious?’ and burst out laughing, Aiden would likely join in, laughing just as enthusiastically beside her.

 

“How lovely.”

 

While Aiden went to fetch the water, Anje tidied up her spot and took in the surrounding scenery.

Autumn had crept in, painting the trees in vivid hues of red and gold—colors brighter than any autumn landscape she had ever seen.

 

‘Autumn used to be my least favorite season.’

 

Autumn marked the end of the social season, a time when nobles significantly reduced their outdoor activities. Consequently, Anje’s schedule was more relaxed compared to before.

 

However, she struggled to face that empty time. It felt like being left alone in a mansion after a party had ended, the bustling days filled with people suddenly quieting down, leaving her feeling empty and lonely.

 

She would eagerly wait for the next social season, longing to laugh, chatter, drink, and dance with the nobles—anything to keep her from noticing the quiet loneliness coiled deep within her heart.

 

But the autumn at Dilton Farm was different.

 

‘This autumn… I really like it.’

 

She and Aiden gathered the remaining crops from the fields, collecting hazelnuts, chestnuts, and walnuts scattered like treasures.

 

Thanks to their diligence, the cellar was stocked with food for winter, while the attic brimmed with dried flowers and hanging spices.

 

Naturally, the livestock weren’t left out. The barn was filled with fragrant hay stacked high for their feed.

 

During this time, Aiden was caught secretly growing sunflowers in the barn. When Anje discovered them, he received an affectionate but playful scolding, followed by them tumbling together onto the hay bed.

 

Such experiences transformed autumn into her favorite season. While she couldn’t yet say it was her absolute ‘favorite,’ given how splendid the spring and summer had been, it was undoubtedly special.

 

‘What will the winter days bring once this autumn ends?’ she wondered, leaning back in her chair with anticipation.

 

The light-brown rocking chair, polished to a shine, swayed smoothly without a creak. It was her personal rocking chair, its back adorned with a carving of an adorable cherub.

 

Anje gazed at the cherub’s innocent, sleeping face, and Aiden’s voice echoed in her mind.

 

‘Anje, my angel.’

 

Her earlobes grew warm. Just recalling the way he called her with such yearning sent tingles through her body.

 

She gently brought her hand to her nape. Around the area tightly wrapped by the muffler, there were red marks like autumn leaves.

 

‘Aiden is such a peculiar person.’

 

Most of the time, he was as gentle and devoted as a well-trained hunting dog, but occasionally, he would reveal an unfamiliar side of himself.

 

Even though no one was watching, Anje tightly pulled the knot of the muffler and buried her face in its fabric. The expression Aiden made when he lost his reason in front of her was enough to make her face flush just by imagining it.

 

‘Not that I dislike that side of him.’

 

A few days ago, they had crossed the final ridge to becoming a complete married couple.

 

Even putting aside Aiden’s trauma of being reluctant to show himself to others, it wasn’t an easy thing.

 

Neither of them had ever shared such an intimate connection with anyone before, and the advice from her chaperones and tutors proved utterly useless in practice.

 

However, with Anje’s diligent curiosity and Aiden’s equally earnest sincerity, they had finally managed to conquer that summit.

 

At one point, it was more painful than she had expected, and a few tears welled up, but at the same time, she kept laughing.

 

‘I’m sorry, Anje. Truly, truly sorry. If you want me to stop, just say the word, and I’ll stop immediately. Or maybe I should stop now? Just nod your head, and I’ll—’

 

‘Shut up, you idiot.’

 

Even though he had an expression that showed he didn’t know what to do because he was so happy, Aiden, who was fidgety, really…

 

Really, she was so lucky that he was her husband. No matter who else she might have married—even if it were an emperor of a nation greater than this empire—she doubted she could have shared such overwhelming moments with them.

 

‘I love you, Anje.’

 

TL/N:

 

 

Her cheeks flushed as she smiled blissfully.

 

‘It was a bit excessive, but it was also affectionate.’

 

The next day, perhaps worried because she had slept in late from exhaustion, he brought a tray full of crepes, overflowing, all the way to her bed.

 

‘If you tell me the filling you want, I’ll roll it for you. You can have cheese and ham, or whipped cream and fruit, and…’

 

The fact that he remembered her off handed remark, ‘Oh, I feel like eating crepes,’ from a few days ago was quite touching. However, making enough crepes to feed four or five people seemed like a bit much.

 

‘I guess you really see me as Pa-Pi-Pu, Aiden. I’m grateful, but it’s… a bit much. ‘

 

‘Anje, isn’t it customary to serve the bride a lavish breakfast the morning after the wedding night? I was simply following tradition. A ‘tradition’ you enjoy as well.’

 

As if such lavish bedside service wasn’t enough, he carried her around for days, not letting her feet touch the ground.

 

TL/N: WISH IT WAS ME…

 

It was fortunate that Meg’s cleaning day didn’t overlap with the day she came to learn writing. If she had seen it, she would’ve teased them endlessly, calling them a sweet newlywed couple.

 

Anje chuckled softly to herself, then pricked up her ears at an unfamiliar sound. From the path leading to the forest, the sound of hoofbeats—unfamiliar ones—was approaching.

 

“Who could it be?”

 

She slowly stood up, resting her hand on the railing. Contrary to Aiden’s fussing and concerns, today she found walking manageable.

 

In truth, even yesterday wasn’t as difficult as she had made it seem. She just wanted to act a little spoiled around Aiden, so she didn’t resist much when he carried her.

 

“Could it be Miss Mary?”

 

Wondering if something had happened at Mrs. Penny’s house, Anje leaned out toward the roadside and almost let out a scream.

 

‘Why here, of all places?’

 

Though the family crest was covered with cloth, the carriage was unmistakably luxurious—a rare sight in this region. The horse and carriage naturally brought to mind a particular duke she was all too familiar with.

 

As the approaching carriage drew closer, Anje caught sight of a familiar face through the gap in the curtain. Startled, she quickly ducked back behind the wall.

 

Was it Mark? Or Matthew? She couldn’t quite remember the name, but it was the butler who always accompanied the duke on his travels.

 

There was no doubt about it—the unfamiliar carriage that had suddenly appeared belonged to the Glasster Dukedom. And if the butler was here, it was highly likely her father was as well.

 

Her heart pounded violently.

 

‘What on earth is going on?’

 

Had her father arranged her remarriage and come to take her back to the capital? No, even if that were the case, it was strange for her father to come here personally.

 

‘He’s the type to delegate such tasks to his subordinates rather than coming all this way himself.’

 

Perhaps he was furious after reading her letter about wanting to stay married to Aiden. Maybe he had come to drag her back by force and use his power to annul the marriage.

 

Anyone who didn’t know the duke well might think he wouldn’t go so far as to use such harsh measures against his own daughter.

 

But Anje knew her father all too well. This was the man who, immediately after losing her fiancé, ordered her to approach that fiancé’s rival—his own brother—all for his ambitions and desires.

 

He was someone who cared not if his daughter became the laughingstock of others or incurred the emperor’s displeasure, as long as it didn’t threaten his own safety or reputation.

 

‘I won’t let him have his way.’

 

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Anje set her resolve and moved forward. Before Aiden could discover the duke’s presence, she would meet her father alone and somehow convince him to return to the capital.

 

‘I don’t want him (Aiden) to feel uneasy about the talk of remarriage.’

 

She had long noticed that he often had nightmares and, on occasion, would wake in the middle of the night, fumbling to find her. She had never mentioned it, fearing it might hurt his pride or make him self-conscious.

 

Anje stepped onto the roadside. The thought of meeting her father again and having to say something he wouldn’t like made her hands instinctively move toward her mouth.

 

But when the scent of hazelnut trees tickled her nose, she paused and looked down at her hands, stained with patches of brown.

 

The marks were proof that she now belonged here, at Dilton Farm, and no longer to the Glasster Dukedom.

 

Anje wiped her hands on her apron and straightened her back and neck. She wasn’t ashamed of her plain dress without corsets or crinolines, nor of her unadorned face.

 

No matter what her father thought of her appearance, she was Anje Fitzroy—a rightful member and co-owner of Dilton Farm.

 

“Hello, Father.”

 

With a poise more graceful than at any ball or social gathering, she bowed toward the carriage.

 

Though she couldn’t bring herself to offer a cordial greeting like “Welcome to Dilton Farm,” she couldn’t neglect her duties as a hostess.

 

* * * *

 

If you want to support the Translator, Translator’s Ko-Fi: