Anri walked a little ahead of him.
But not so far ahead that she was out of his line of sight.
Just enough to signal: I’m not going to walk beside you, and we’re certainly not close enough for that, while still maintaining the poise befitting the daughter of the house.
Only just that much.
Was the path to the stables always this long and deep?
“How much would it take?”
The man’s low voice suddenly came from behind her.
How much—what?
The tone was strange.
It wasn’t the usual way someone asked for a price.
It was more like: No matter how much I offer, you wouldn’t sell it anyway, would you? A strange sort of question.
The abruptness of it, paired with the odd meaning, made Anri furrow her brows and turn her head on reflex—
Only to stop mid-turn because he had already stepped up beside her in one long stride.
She had tried so hard to maintain distance, and now they were side by side.
Caught off guard, Anri had to look up at him.
“Marilyn. I’m just curious why she’s not for sale.”
Seeing him from this close, the height difference hit her.
It was a gap that made it easy for him to look down on her—literally and figuratively.
Even now, the man was calmly gazing down at her with those slightly narrowed eyes.
Pull yourself together, Anri Wentworth!
Anri immediately understood what the man was getting at with his gently probing words.
And also why this distinguished nobleman had come all the way here himself.
He came personally to negotiate for Marilyn, didn’t he?
Clearly, Kyrishtan’s obsession had gotten more serious than expected.
She’d turned away the steward, and now the master himself had come to try his luck.
Seeing how he came all this way about a horse supposedly descended from a legendary stallion once owned by the royal Habsburgs—well, Marilyn must be quite valuable.
Which meant… she could afford to raise the price.
“Marilyn is like family to me. Like a younger sister.”
“Ah.”
The man let out a noncommittal sound.
That one syllable was enough for Anri to know he hadn’t truly understood what she meant.
You’re saying a horse is your sister? Horses are horses. —he was clearly thinking that, even if he didn’t say it aloud.
“Does Lord Wentworth feel the same?”
Anri came to a dead stop at the sudden jab.
She hadn’t expected him to bring her father into it—to try to pressure her that way.
“…Yes, of course. He considers her his fourth daughter.”
Anri resumed walking.
In truth, to her father, Marilyn was just a horse.
He treasured her, sure—but not like a daughter. More like a useful beast.
Honestly, if her father met this man, he wouldn’t just sell Marilyn—he’d probably give her away for free.
All it would take was seeing that Roses and Hounds carriage.
He’d immediately try to rope the man into his network.
That damned Roses and Hounds.
The way its brand alone shaped public perception, trust, and mystery—it was a true masterwork of craftsmanship and reputation.
“Why the fourth daughter? Didn’t Marilyn live here longer than your sisters?”
“…”
He was surprisingly sharp. She had tried to come up with a quick lie but left a gap.
Her sisters had only come three years ago. Marilyn had been here much longer. But wait—
“Ah… no. Marilyn was born ten years ago. She’s the youngest of us all.”
She had almost walked into his trap.
“So she was born here, then.”
“Yes. I saw her come out of her mother’s womb with my own eyes.”
Suddenly, the memories came flooding back, and Anri’s expression softened.
Right before Marilyn’s birth, her mother—Charlotte Branson, former Lady Wentworth—had passed away.
Marilyn had been born into a house steeped in grief.
Anri had been only eleven.
The newborn foal had eyes like lakes—gentle and deep.
She was adorable, pitiful, and somehow comforting to look at.
Anri, aching with the loss of her mother, had stared into Marilyn’s eyes for what felt like hours.
They were soothing just to behold.
Six years ago, her father had tried to sell Marilyn for a very high price, but Anri had begged him not to.
At the time, the market value for mares was soaring. Selling Marilyn could’ve bought them three male horses.
But one look into her eyes, and Anri couldn’t let her go.
Even if they didn’t speak the same language, Marilyn’s presence alone brought comfort.
What other creature could offer such silent reassurance?
Now, somehow, that same Marilyn had grown up to be someone’s mate… ahem.
She had found herself a fine stallion.
Edwin’s gaze sharpened slightly as he looked diagonally down at her.
What he could see was her round, apple-like head, her slightly protruding forehead, the long, thick lashes, and the smooth cherry-gloss tip of her nose.
These were features anyone could have, but somehow… he kept staring.
Not that he had any right to—she wasn’t his woman.
If he wanted to keep looking, he needed a reason to engage her.
“Is the mother here as well?”
“…”
Why ask about the mother?
Was he trying to research Marilyn’s bloodline?
Even if Kyrishtan was in heat, he was a noble stallion. Of course he’d want to know the lineage of the mare.
Anri looked up at him.
“Why do you want to know?”
Her round, sweetly-lidded eyes blinked twice.
Edwin was silent for a moment, taking in her gaze.
Then, with a deeper, quieter voice—
“…Because I want to know more about Marilyn.”
“Hmm…”
Anri let out a vague hum and looked straight ahead again.
Yep. Definitely investigating.
“Marilyn is precious, yes, but you can’t compare her lineage to Kyrishtan’s. Are you really going to have them, uh… m-mate?”
The word felt too awkward to say aloud.
But it was already out there.
“That was the intention, yes.”
“But Marilyn might not like him.”
“Kyrishtan is sensitive. He might need some time too.”
“Ahaha.”
A brief, incredulous laugh escaped Anri.
Kyrishtan, who looked like a muscular mercenary knight, sensitive? That was hard to picture.
Realizing she had laughed aloud, she quickly covered her mouth and composed herself.
It wasn’t proper to laugh so freely in front of a man she barely knew.
Even if it were okay, she didn’t want to seem cheerful in front of him.
“…”
Edwin tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing.
This was the first time he’d ever had what could be considered a normal conversation with her.
And that fleeting, bell-like laughter? He hadn’t expected it.
Not to mention that sweet, faint fragrance—like acacia blossom—drifting from her.
It teased at his senses more than any overpowering perfume.
“Ahem.”
Anri cleared her throat unnecessarily as the stables finally came into view.
Thank goodness.
Ahead, Hendel, Albert, and the man’s coachman, Jeffrey, were gathered. Jeffrey held Kyrishtan’s reins.
Even from a distance, Kyrishtan looked long, solid, and magnificent.
That powerful chest, those strong muscles—you wouldn’t find another horse like him.
His black coat gave him a wild allure. And yet, he was… sensitive?
Marilyn hit the jackpot.
Hands folded elegantly, Anri was secretly ecstatic.
Tonight, Marilyn was going to be very fulfilled and happy.
Imagining Marilyn enjoying her feminine privilege made Anri feel as if she were floating herself.
Given Marilyn’s spirited nature, Kyrishtan wouldn’t be given much time, even if he did need it.
“How are the horses?”
The man asked his staff.
A simple question, yet his voice and expression carried a cold authority.
That kind of charisma couldn’t be faked—it came from birth and years of noble training.
Even if someone tried to imitate it, they’d struggle.
Anri turned toward him with composed posture.
“…Um, Kyrishtan’s father?”
She didn’t know what else to call him.
Saying “you there” wouldn’t do—they were temporary partners in negotiation, after all.
At her question, his gaze, which had been on the coachmen, turned toward her.
His brow twitched—an odd expression.
He didn’t like that?
“Ah, I didn’t catch your name or title, so I didn’t know what to call you.”
Anri’s eyes curved gently with that signature sarcastic sweetness.
Father, huh? Edwin didn’t love it, but—
“Well, I’m unmarried, but I suppose it’s not entirely inaccurate.”
Anri picked up an unintended piece of information.
She blinked twice but let it pass.
“Before we, uh… breed them, there are some terms you’ll need to agree to, sir.”
“Terms…?”
Anri finished with a calm smile.
But a strange, slightly cold look flashed through Edwin’s eyes.
“After all, this affects Marilyn’s life and future family.”
His expression grew a bit sharper.
Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to bring this up in such detail.
Even now, he seemed unsure where she was going with it.
But Anri didn’t want to offer Marilyn’s one-night stand without conditions.
Even if Marilyn didn’t have a noble bloodline, a female was still a female.
A noble mare of the house!
Maintaining a bright, peaceful tone, Anri continued.
“If the two wish to stay together, how long can Kyrishtan remain here?”
Ha.
A short, breathy laugh escaped Edwin.
So this is what she meant by terms.
His gaze brightened with fresh amusement.
Anri was proposing detailed terms and conditions… for the mating of Marilyn and Kyrishtan.
