CHAPTER 10
Joseph stretched his neck, perking up his ears as he tried to glimpse who was on the stairs.
What were those two talking about? He was just as curious about the lady who had spectacularly ruined the wedding—and just as surprised that Walter seemed to be following her like a bee to flowers.
His curiosity nearly drove him mad.
“My neck’s going to snap.”
A sudden voice startled him, and Joseph drew his sword reflexively—stopping the tip just millimeters from the slender nape of a young, freckled girl who’d crept up without a sound.
“Who are you?” Joseph demanded, scowling. But the girl only smiled, eyes wide and defiant.
“If I say who I am, what are you going to do?” she challenged.
Joseph recoiled, unsettled by her confidence. It was obvious she wasn’t some random traveler. Despite the blade to her neck, she showed no fear, and she’d moved without even a whisper.
“Answer the question first.” Joseph snapped, his bulk enough to intimidate any man.
She fired back with full bravado:
“If I don’t answer, are you going to stab me? Go ahead—try me!”
Her white eyes gleamed, unsettling—this wasn’t madness, it was fearless intent.
In a panic, Joseph retorted:
“This is why they call knights idiots!”
His bones from a previous bite throbbed in protest.
“Put your sword away!”
Joseph managed to stutter: “Who—who are you…?”
The sound of two sets of footsteps descending the stairs interrupted him. A bright voice came next:
“Jesse?”
“Yes, m’lady!”
Despite her cheery tone, Jesse kept her gaze fierce and nudged Joseph’s blade aside with her finger. As Joseph awkwardly resheathed his sword, Grace descended first, followed closely by Walter. It struck Joseph immediately that they looked exactly like newlyweds.
But as Walter stepped forward, the air seemed to shift deliberately. He moved between Joseph and Grace, introducing him with a calm authority.
“Joseph Rexton, my aide.”
Joseph bowed stiffly and acknowledged Grace. She smiled politely and gestured to Jesse.
“This is Jesse. She’ll assist me from now on.”
Jesse kneeled with a respectful bow:
“I’m Lady Grace’s maid Jesse.”
“But she’s also my teacher,” Grace added smoothly.
“Teacher?” Walter echoed in surprise, looking at young Jesse.
Grace smiled:
“She taught me courage.”
Jesse twitched a smile at this, while Joseph recalled her fearless glare and thought, That’s not courage—sounds a lot like madness…
Joseph’s mind reeled. What was even happening? But his confusion deepened with Grace’s next words.
“From now on, Lady Grace will come with you to Richmond as my lover. Joseph, fetch a carriage.”
“…What?!” Joseph nearly leapt in surprise, but Walter offered no further explanation.
“Your Grace?” Joseph asked futilely, jaw agape.
Grace extended her delicate right hand, serene as ever, and introduced herself:
“A pleasure, Sir Rexton.”
Joseph, stunned, pressed a kiss to her hand. Jesse relaxed and even nodded in approval—she looked so pleased it sent a chill down his spine.
“Move quickly, Joseph.”
Joseph turned to face his master, sensing the heavy, unpredictable power in Walter. There was no knowing what lay behind his stoic mask.
So Joseph turned on his heel—without a word—and began packing his cloak and gear mechanically before stepping out into the busy street. A shiver shook him.
I feel weaker than I ever have…
Joseph’s instincts were rarely wrong. He scratched his skull in confusion, then disappeared into the crowd.
It wasn’t long before Joseph’s trepidation became reality. He had spent ten years surviving by his strength and cunning—fighting dragons, beasts, and battles—but he’d never driven a carriage before. Now he was dragged through crowded streets and narrow roads as Grace’s driver.
Surprisingly, the experience was oddly pleasant. Suddenly serving the lord’s lover, the beautiful and composed Lady Grace with her kind smile—more than compensated for the past decade of hardship.
She was unexpectedly gentle.
“Sir Rexton…”
Joseph’s heart tightened at the sound of his name, spoken with warmth.
He’d heard it countless times from commanding voices cold as ice—but never… never like this. He had often prayed she wouldn’t call him by name—and now, she did, tenderly.
“You allowed such a noble knight to drive the carriage… I’m sorry.”
“Not at all! I always dreamed of being a coachman!”
The words tumbled out unfiltered, unthinking—but Grace laughed joyfully.
The fierce, determined woman who destroyed the wedding was gone. She was just bright, sincere laughter now, sunlight and sweet fruit-scented breeze that made Joseph feel like he’d died and gone to heaven.
Jesse, peering out the carriage, suddenly asked:
“Lady Grace, is your wrist okay?”
“Still a bit sore… the real thing is different.”
“I saw a bruise—looks like you used a heavy bottle. Next time, use your whole arm instead of just your wrist.”
Grace mimicked swinging a bottle with her wrist, sharp and determined. Both Walter and Joseph shared the same thought: That was the Sachsen count.
Then, softly, drifting from Grace’s lips:
“When I meet him again, I won’t stop at a wine bottle.”
The gentle tone carried lethal intent. Joseph’s throat contracted involuntarily.
Jesse looked at Grace, filled with pride, and hugged her tightly. The gesture—warm, protective—had saved them both from despair, despite the turmoil they faced.
Jesse would die for Grace. But Grace had chosen vengeance—she’d sacrificed herself entirely.
She humiliated the Empress’s nephew, disrupted the wedding, and declared her secret lover publicly. As a noblewoman, she’d effectively committed social suicide. And now, the Taylor family—severing ties under imperial pressure—would leave her even more isolated. Her shield of Richmond’s favor might not be enough to protect her from deeper disgrace.
“Don’t worry,” Grace whispered.
They looked to each other then, and, almost in unison, gazed out the carriage window.
The sprawling Taylor estates stretched far below—waves of unharvested wheat, tiny figures moving among them—signaling the first step in reclaiming it all.
They would not stop. They would not collapse.
This was just the beginning.
