Chapter 22
Aria, though endlessly wary of strangers, would show no hesitation in acting cute or clingy if she sensed they would not harm her. To Aria, Ash was one of those “kind people who would never hurt her.” As soon as Anna opened the drawing room door, Aria ran straight toward Ash.
“Duke!”
“Aria, it’s been a while.”
Ash smiled gently as he patted Aria’s head. No matter how stern a person was, they couldn’t help but soften in front of a lovable child. Charlotte stood quietly at the doorway, her gaze fixed on Ash.
Just as Baron Bervel had said, he looked perfectly healthy, without a trace of sickness. He didn’t look like someone who had been ill only days ago. Charlotte let out a sigh. She had no intention of asking him why he had lied, but her stifled chest would not settle.
At that moment, her eyes met Ash’s. His smile faltered slightly. Pretending to offer a polite greeting, Charlotte averted her gaze.
“What brings Your Grace here today?”
“…I came to deliver something.”
What the Duke of Valiant pulled out of his breast pocket was a letter. Charlotte examined the seal.
The Imperial crest… An invitation. No, this one’s from the temple.
She smiled softly at Aria, who was hugging her leg and tilting her head curiously, and opened the envelope. The first letter she read was from the temple. The paper felt unusual. As Aria brushed the edge of the sheet with her fingertips, she focused again on the contents.
Her calm, transparent navy-blue eyes gradually widened as they scanned the words. More than that, a bright smile—one she usually reserved only for Aria—tugged at her lips. Her complexion brightened. Her long white lashes drooped halfway over her eyes as she laughed, softening the air around her. The corners of her cheeks flushed faintly pink, as if spring had replaced winter. Charlotte rarely wore such an expression—truly rare.
“Theodore is returning… I’m so glad he’s safe.”
Though she hadn’t seen him in five years, her bond with him had not disappeared.
It was simply that the struggles she endured in the meantime had weighed on her so heavily that she hadn’t had the strength to think of Theodore. She had written letters, but once he had gone deep into Leopold’s territory, they were all returned. Eventually, she had stopped sending them altogether. She had nearly forgotten about him. But upon hearing of his return, her heart began to pound.
Theodore had always been like family. From the time her father first brought him home, to the day he proudly took the position of knight commander, they had been very close. The memories brought smiles unbidden to her lips. Overcome with fondness, Charlotte opened the imperial letter next—it was, as expected, about the homecoming ceremony.
“Mommy, I want to see the letter too!”
“Hm? Oh, here you go.”
Charlotte handed the letter to Aria. Aria tilted her head from side to side; it must have been full of difficult words.
“What’s a homecoming ceremony, Mommy?”
“It’s an event where the temple celebrates and blesses the return of the holy knights. Usually, right after the homecoming ceremony, they hold a blessing ceremony. To receive the High Priest’s blessing—it’s a great honor.”
For little Aria, who didn’t know much about traditions or annual banquets, Charlotte explained gently. Then she offered her thanks to Ash as well. He, who had been staring at Charlotte as if entranced, belatedly lowered his gaze.
“You came to deliver this to me?”
“To send letters to the North, one must cross the snow mountains. A mail coach carrying the letters was swept into a snowstorm a few days ago and fell into a ravine.”
“And the coachman—was he alright?”
“Fortunately, he escaped before the fall, so he’s unharmed. But it took time to recover and restore the scattered letters. Especially yours, my lady… The paper was torn, and the envelope buried in snow, so I copied it onto a new sheet.”
So that’s why the paper felt different. Charlotte brushed her fingers over the neat yet fluid handwriting.
“I heard you were close friends with Sir Arbelche.”
“Ah…”
“So when I saw the name written in the letter, I thought I should bring it directly to you. If my actions troubled you, I apologize.”
…Apologize? No, if anything, I should be the one thanking him. Charlotte shook her head silently. Ash was truly considerate. Letters from the imperial family or the temple were treated as official documents, delivered to all across the empire. No doubt Baron Bervel and his wife, and Lady Rossi as well, had received their copies.
Yet Ash had carried Charlotte’s letter all the way to the castle. After so much time had already been lost restoring the letter, instead of sending it through someone else, he had come himself—so that she might receive news of her dear friend Theodore as quickly as possible.
Realizing this, she unconsciously tightened her grip on the letter.
So thoughtful, so kind… And yet, why did he lie to me? Charlotte let her hand fall limply.
She wanted to ask, but she didn’t. Having grown up amidst lies and reproach, she knew too well that asking only brought pain.
“Will you be attending the homecoming ceremony?”
“Even if I left right now, it would take more than a day.”
“Then you may miss the homecoming, but you could still attend the blessing ceremony. If you wish, I can arrange a carriage.”
It would be wonderful to see Theodore again. But she had no intention of returning to the capital. She had only just left it. Besides, how could the “cursed young lady” appear at a holy knight’s homecoming? The whispers she’d face were obvious.
Nor could she leave Aria behind. Ever since the tea party, Aria cried inconsolably whenever separated from her, even for a short while.
And… what if Theodore no longer thought of her as a friend, as he once had? What if, after five long years, he found her strange and distant?
“No, I’ll be fine. It’s not the right situation for me to go.”
“…”
“Thank you for delivering the letter, Your Grace. And for your thoughtfulness as well.”
The gratitude was sincere. And then… Charlotte hesitated before speaking softly.
“Are you well now?”
“!”
“When I last visited, I heard you were unwell. I’m relieved to see you’ve recovered. Still, it wasn’t an ordinary poison but one from a monster. I’ll send you something good for your recovery. Please think of it as repayment—for protecting Aria and me.”
She was unsettled by his lie, and yes, hurt because of her past scars. But apart from that, her gratitude for his protection, her concern for his health, her regret for doubting his intentions—those were all genuine. So was her desire to repay him.
Ash did not answer right away. At length, he spoke only briefly.
“…Yes. I’ll accept it gratefully.”
After that, he said no more. His expression suggested he had much to say, but he remained silent until he left the castle.
Among all fashion houses in the empire, none rivaled the renown of Dolores Atelier.
Whenever a banquet or ball was held, young noble ladies would line up not in the morning but the night before just to secure a reservation. Merchants—especially those dealing in fine fabrics—were desperate to supply goods to Dolores Atelier.
Madam Robellon of Dolores Atelier sighed heavily upon hearing news of the upcoming homecoming and blessing ceremonies. Ordinary people, it was said, found their fatigue soothed by the sight of gold flowing in. But not Madam Robellon. It was little wonder her assistants, despite the high pay, rarely lasted even a month before fleeing.
The past week had been a blur. Truly, perhaps she was already dead. Yes—that must be it.
The flood of customers, the reservation lists piled high like mountains, the bribes from nobles’ maids pleading to move their mistresses’ names up in line. On top of that, sorting and organizing ordered fabrics. Dolores Atelier had been overwhelmed with work—right up to the eve of the homecoming ceremony.
Her sole remaining assistant, Delis, croaked out weakly:
“…Madam Robellon.”
“I’ll raise your pay…”
“Yes…”
With trembling hands, Delis drew a line through every name but the very last reservation.
“Madam Robellon, what’s with that fur over there…?”
“Oh, those are for the North. Don’t worry about them.”
“Good. I was just about ready to throw everything down and run away.”
“If you quit too, I really will die…”
Staggering, Delis approached the table where bundles of fur lay piled.
“But there’ve been a lot of fur orders from the North lately.”
“It’s cold there.”
“Not usually this much though. Didn’t we even get a large order for children’s coats?”
“Maybe someone set up a newlywed home in the North. It’s cold, yes, but beautiful too.”
Madam Robellon spoke feebly. She had no idea that it was Charlotte who had ordered the furs, inspiring other nobles to do the same, and that Baroness Bervel had ordered children’s coats for the orphanage as well.
“The cold sounds unbearable. …Oh, come to think of it, wasn’t it a noble household’s maid who came to place that big fur order?”
“Who ordered what?”
Delis nearly screamed at the sudden voice behind her. The very moment she’d slumped over the table, Madam Robellon leapt to her feet in alarm—because standing before them was the last customer of the day, the young Duke of Winteryle.
“A noble household’s maid, you said. Who exactly?”
“Y-yes?”
“You just said a noble household’s maid placed a large fur order.”
Caught off guard by both the abrupt question and the young duke’s striking looks, Delis stammered and faltered. But before she could collect herself, he asked again:
“The fur that maid ordered—where was it sent?”
