LI Chapter 35

‌⁠♡⁩ TL: Khadija SK

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Theodore left Lady Michelle and headed straight to the Easton family estate.

 

He wiped his darkened face with his hand several times. He felt as though he’d aged ten years in mere moments.

 

It was because he’d uncovered the egregious act Lady Michelle had committed against Viscount Easton.

 

She’d demanded proof of Hazel’s origins.

 

How could she do something so cruel?

 

It was an insult and a dismissal of the Easton family. And it was a deed that dragged him down to the depths, he who was eager to become part of that family.

 

“How could my aunt do this?”

 

The Lady Michelle Theodore knew was strict yet tender, a woman brimming with noble pride.

 

She tended to shy away from the unfamiliar, but she never hesitated to warmly embrace those who entered her circle, and her circle was vast indeed.

 

She accepted the families of her acknowledged friends, colleagues, and even their lovers. How much more so the friends and companions of Theodore, her own kin?

 

She’d open a guest room in the White House with a radiant smile at the mere mention that someone had studied with Theodore.

 

So why hadn’t she shown her boundless mercy and compassion toward Hazel?

 

Was it solely because her father wasn’t a noble?

 

“That’s foolish.”

 

It was so astonishing that his inner thoughts slipped from his mouth.

 

Fortunately, Theodore was alone in the carriage.

 

If he felt this way, how must Viscount Easton have felt upon receiving such an insolent demand from Lady Michelle?

 

In his place, Theodore would’ve drawn a pistol and shot the offending party in the head without hesitation.

 

“It’s astounding he hasn’t broken my neck.”

 

Theodore suddenly felt admiration and respect for the restraint Viscount Easton had shown.

 

He’d concealed Lady Michelle’s vile actions until the end.

 

He could’ve used it to crush Theodore, yet he endured it.

 

The reason was clear enough.

 

“Hazel.”

 

For her honor.

 

Merely questioning her origins was an affront to her, so Lord Easton never mentioned it.

 

“I’m truly lacking.”

 

Compared to Viscount Easton’s love, Theodore’s affection for Hazel was minuscule. It deserved the label “petty.”

 

Yet he had no intention of giving her up.

 

If its smallness was the issue, he’d simply make it grow.

 

His love was already expanding, even without effort.

 

Wasn’t that why he was rushing to Viscount Easton now, ready to kneel before him?

 

Anyway, why was the carriage so slow?

 

Theodore rapped on the carriage wall.

 

“Faster! Hurry, please!”

 

He shouted anxiously.

 

***

 

Viscount Easton appeared in the crowded drawing room amidst Charlotte’s suitors.

 

Tension swept through the room the moment the imposing lord entered.

 

“Good day, Viscount Easton.”

 

One bravely initiated the greeting, and the rest followed, saluting Viscount Easton, who might become one of their fathers-in-law.

 

The welcomes stretched on due to the sheer number of suitors.

 

Viscount Easton, known for his frequent laughter, didn’t smile once during that time.

 

The suitors all thought the same thing at once:

 

‘Viscount Easton is the greatest obstacle to marriage!’

 

“Don’t mind me, make yourselves at ease.”

 

His words sounded like a command to pay him heed.

 

As if to prove it, he sat between Hazel and Charlotte.

 

“Father, why not just send them away?”

 

Hazel whispered so only Viscount Easton could hear.

 

He couldn’t hide his displeased expression.

 

Not a single suitor in the drawing room met his standards. Each had some flaw.

 

If their appearance was decent, their knowledge was lacking; if they were educated, they were noticeably short.

 

Lord Easton hadn’t raised Charlotte with care and love to marry her off to fools like these.

 

“Should I? My mere presence here is torture.”

 

Viscount Easton replied.

 

“The torture hasn’t even started, Father. You’ll soon see why I’ve been waiting for Sir Theodore every day.”

 

“Don’t even mention that man’s name.”

 

Hazel shrugged nonchalantly.

 

“What can I do? Lately, the only one I’ve spent time with is Sir Theodore. Forbidding me from speaking of him means I’d have to shut my mouth. Should I?”

 

Even if her relationship with Theodore ended, Hazel didn’t want them to part with him despised by Viscount Easton.

 

The separation should be her fault alone—so Theodore would blame only her, not the Easton family.

 

“No need for that.”

 

Viscount Easton loathed Theodore, but he loved Hazel’s chatter and relented.

 

In the end, he listened attentively to her stories about Theodore.

 

They were far better than the cheap poetry, singing, and failed performances Charlotte’s suitors offered.

 

“…Oh, my goodness. You are my light, my flower, my sun, and all the beautiful things in the world.”

 

Even the improvised poems were dreadful.

 

Suddenly, Viscount Easton grew curious.

 

“My dear, was I like that too?”

 

“If ‘like that’ includes terrible playing, then yes.”

 

Viscount Easton was cultured, but his musical skill was abysmal.

 

Even calm Hazel would cringe at the lullabies he played for her, which said it all.

 

“You’ll have to endure and listen, Father.”

 

Charlotte teased from the side.

 

Viscount Easton sighed, feigning a cough, and muttered:

 

“If someone would save me from this, I’d forgive even an enemy just once.”

 

He could’ve escaped with a fabricated work excuse, but he was too honest in protecting his daughters.

 

Hazel laughed lightly and lifted her head without thinking.

 

At that moment, through the door’s gap, she glimpsed a polished shoe and a long leg.

 

A dust-free shoe, a meticulously pressed trouser—she instantly knew who stood outside.

 

‘Theodore?’

 

Hazel’s eyes sparkled, and she quickly grabbed Viscount Easton’s arm.

 

“What you just said was serious, right?”

 

“What?”

 

“You said you’d forgive whoever saves you from this, even an enemy.”

 

“Of course. Not just forgiveness—I’d grant at least one request. Why, are you going to save me?”

 

Viscount Easton looked at Hazel with eyes full of expectation.

 

Perhaps his clever daughter would devise a trick to rescue him from this hell.

 

Hazel smiled gently.

 

“No, not me. It seems your savior has arrived.”

 

Before Viscount Easton could ask, the drawing room door swung open.

 

In his line of sight stood Theodore, elegant as ever, though his face was gloomier than usual.

 

“If it’s not a bother, Viscount Easton, could you spare me some time?”

 

Viscount Easton’s savior was none other than Theodore himself.

 

***

 

Given his earlier words, Viscount Easton accompanied Theodore to the study. He also ordered the butler to bring tea.

 

Afterward, silence blanketed the study.

 

Even after the butler delivered the tea and left, the atmosphere remained unchanged.

 

Viscount Easton stared somewhere into the void rather than at Theodore, while Theodore waited for him to feel ready to speak.

 

“Would you like a cigar?”

 

After a long while, Viscount Easton broke the silence abruptly.

 

Unable to bear it any longer, he opened a wooden cigar case.

 

He took out one of the expensive cigars, neatly arranged, and offered it to Theodore.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Viscount Easton watched as Theodore trimmed the cigar’s end and lit it.

 

Though he hated to admit it, the man’s presence compelled even someone like him to take notice.

 

“I’ll light it for you.”

 

Theodore set his own lit cigar aside and moved.

 

Viscount Easton accepted his assistance.

 

Theodore raised one eyebrow slightly, then lowered it.

 

Oddly, Viscount Easton’s demeanor softened.

 

Why?

 

No sooner had he wondered than Viscount Easton spoke:

 

“Hazel considers you a friend, at the least. I can’t treat my daughter’s friend harshly.”

 

That was Viscount Easton’s measure.

 

A man capable of embracing even someone from a family that insulted his daughter.

 

For the first time, Theodore felt ashamed of being a Bernier.

 

He gazed quietly at the white smoke curling from the cigar’s tip, then spoke:

 

“I came to apologize. Please forgive Lady Michelle for her insolence.”

 

Viscount Easton’s hand, lifting the cigar to his mouth, froze midair.

 

The sight of Duke Theodore bowing before the viscount like a mere guilty soul was strange, novel, and shocking.

 

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