Chapter 9
After the retainers left, the nanny, who had heard the news, brought tea to Benedict and quietly asked what had happened.
She wanted to know how on earth he had managed to send away those stubborn old men so quietly.
“I remembered something after hearing Lucien’s story.”
There was a time when Benedict resented his father, who was always too busy with work. Especially when his father had to leave for distant places, the feeling grew stronger.
“Just in case something happens, I have to review a few weeks in advance. So please understand that I can’t spend time with you today, okay?”
But his father was human too. Perhaps there were things he had forgotten or left undone.
“So I thought there might be some kind of list that Butler Bell had prepared… but I wasn’t sure if it was okay for me to enter the butler’s quarters on my own.”
“Then how did you get the documents?” the nanny asked.
Benedict gave her a mischievous smile.
“Oh, I just took a bundle of documents from my father’s study. Nothing was written on the front, so I figured I could make use of them.”
“My goodness, are you saying you lied?”
Benedict tilted his head with a sly grin.
“Well, they lied first. Besides, it’s not a total lie. I’m sure there are documents like that in Butler Bell’s room.”
He simply thought that he shouldn’t be the one to read them first.
“Anyway, Alfi is late.”
“He must’ve heard the news. But since he’s coming from abroad, it’ll take time.”
“I hope he arrives soon.”
The Bell family had served as butlers to the ducal house for generations, and eighteen-year-old Alfi Bell was the heir to that duty.
He had been abroad for personal reasons, but now he would return to the ducal estate and become Benedict’s support—just as Butler Bell had been to his father.
“Oh, that’s right.”
As if something had occurred to him, Benedict looked at the nanny again.
“Could you tell the cook that two people will be dining in the banquet hall tonight?”
“Young master—no, the master—will dine in the banquet hall? And he’s invited a guest?!”
Chef Dujardin was overjoyed by the news the nanny delivered.
“Thank goodness the master seems to be regaining his energy. He’s only been asking for light meals in his room, and I’ve been so worried.”
Truthfully, after the unpleasant incident with Lucien that morning, Dujardin had faced a string of bad events.
The kitchen maid Jane hadn’t even shown up for work. Judging by the empty room under the attic and the missing clothes, she had clearly run away.
As a result, Dujardin had been forced to scrub down the kitchen himself since early morning.
But the news that Benedict had finally requested a proper dinner made all those misfortunes vanish from his mind.
“So, who’s the guest? Any special requests?”
“There weren’t any. He didn’t say who the guest is either. But wouldn’t they enjoy anything? After all, the master has grown up eating your cooking since he was a child.”
“You’re quite right, nanny.”
Dujardin smiled with satisfaction and hurried back to the kitchen. He had to decide on the menu and begin prep work quickly.
Who could the guest be?
Although Benedict hadn’t said, Dujardin figured that the first official guest after all this hardship must be someone very important to him.
“Whoever it is, I’m grateful to them,” he thought.
Thanks to them, the banquet hall would once again be lit.
Dujardin wanted to serve this guest a meal made with all his heart.
Since there was no butler today, Dujardin decided to take on that role himself and went up to the banquet hall.
Passing the reception room on the first floor, he arrived at the banquet hall and couldn’t hold back a wide smile of anticipation.
But that feeling didn’t last long. His expression quickly turned sour upon peeking inside.
The table was perfectly set. The problem was the uninvited guest loitering in this important place—Lucien.
“You!”
Forgetting that this was the master’s space, he raised his voice and rushed toward her.
“What did you touch?! Do you have any idea where you are, barging in like this?”
Startled, Lucien shook her head.
“N-nothing…”
Dujardin grabbed her arm and dragged her over, flinging open the banquet hall door.
Fortunately, Benedict was standing right behind it, so Dujardin quickly hid Lucien behind his back.
“M-Master.”
“I thought I heard a commotion. Is something wrong?”
“Nothing at all! Everything is ready exactly as you requested.”
“I’m sure it was a surprise request.”
“Not at all! Serving you excellent food is always my greatest joy.”
“But then…”
Benedict tilted his head slightly, his eyes landing on Lucien peeking from behind Dujardin’s arm.
“Ah, well—this girl said she wanted to help, so I was politely turning her down. I was just about to send her back. Such a sweet child, don’t you think?”
Although he found Lucien unpleasant, he knew she had been granted residence by his master. So he tried to give a positive excuse.
“She has a kind heart to want to help, but this isn’t a place for you. Go back to your room,” he said to Lucien, trying to remain patient and gentle.
“Um… I…”
But Lucien only hesitated, not moving.
“Hurry along now. If the guest sees you, it might trouble the Duke,” he pressed.
Benedict joined in.
“Yes, you’d better hurry.”
But strangely, Benedict kept his eyes fixed on Dujardin as he said that.
“Because our esteemed guest is waiting.”
“…Excuse me?”
“Lucien, what were you thinking coming ahead of me when you said you’d help? I told you to wait in the reception room.”
Turning his gaze, Benedict walked past Dujardin and stood in front of Lucien. She lowered her head and answered quietly.
“I just thought… I should help before the meal.”
“I told you, your job is to help me, not the chef. Now come on.”
Benedict pulled out a chair for her, and Lucien hesitantly sat down.
Wait—was she the guest he mentioned earlier?
Dujardin was so shocked he pointed at her without thinking.
“T-this girl… you mean—”
“The guest,” Benedict said firmly, shooting him a look.
“You’d better hurry.”
Circling the table to sit in his seat, Benedict continued,
“Unless you want to embarrass me in front of my guest.”
“Gasp.”
Dujardin came to his senses and hurried out of the hall—almost running away.
The meal was quite satisfying. That is, if one ignored the unpleasant sound of Lucien’s utensils scraping the plates due to her poor table manners.
“I don’t think I should eat like this,” she said.
Lucien felt awkward eating with servants standing by. Not because she was physically uncomfortable—but because she worried about how those servants must feel waiting on someone like her.
“If it bothers you, it’s fine once in a while. We’ll need time to dine like this from now on.”
Benedict requested dessert and dabbed the corner of his lips with a napkin.
“Again? Why?”
“Of course. I’ve decided to make you my special advisor.”
“Special advisor?”
To Lucien, it was a completely unfamiliar and baffling title—let alone imagining actually taking on the role.
“It means someone I consult with.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Lucien shook her head without touching the fruit dessert.
“Why? Thanks to your advice today, I resolved a difficult issue quite smoothly.”
“That was…!”
Lucien started to raise her voice, but quickly fell silent as the servants entered to clear the dishes.
“In any case, I’ve decided. You’re my special advisor.”
Clink. One of the servants clattered some dishes—clearly startled by Benedict’s words.
Lucien lowered her head, blushing. It felt shameful to have such an impressive title attached to her name.
“And I think it was my father’s will too.”
Benedict kept persuading her.
“I’ve always believed there had to be a reason he brought you to the ducal house and even risked his life to save you.”
“A reason?”
“Yes. My father wouldn’t have acted without one.”
Lucien nodded quietly.
After all, in his final moment, the Duke had saved her life—and said these words:
Help Benedict.
“My father must have known you would become someone I truly need.”
“You mean… I’m someone you need?”
“Yes.”
Benedict looked her straight in the eyes and spoke with quiet conviction.
“I need you.”
It was a statement filled with deep sincerity.
