CHAPTER 10 – I Haven’t Even Done It Properly
Wrapped in a shawl, Lea shivered as the cold wind seeped inside her clothes. The piercing brightness reflecting off her eyelids was almost painful.
“Too bright…”
She’d been up since before dawn, brewing the jujube seed tea ordered by the Duke. She remembered starting the fire under the hazy pre-dawn sky, then—falling asleep.
Lea shot upright.
“Oh no… did I fall asleep?”
She hurriedly extinguished the brazier under the tea.
“Damn it. I promised it at breakfast—it’s already midday!”
Panicking, she raced outside.
“Excuse me—has His Grace started breakfast yet?”
She found a maid from the kitchen.
“Yes. Jane has probably just brought the meal upstairs.”
Lea’s face paled.
“I’m so late…!”
With no time to rebrew the tea, she bottled enough to serve the Duke and rushed toward his room, every muscle aching, catching a cold from the mountain’s damp chill.
She coughed and hurried on, her dread mounting.
Inside, the Duke sat calmly, surprisingly relaxed.
“I knew it…”
Of course—Lea would be late.
But despite the promise of fresh brew every morning, he seemed oddly unconcerned.
A knock sounded. The Duke sat forward, then signaled her in. When the door swung open,
“Your Grace is awake? Breakfast is ready.” a maid announced as she began to leave.
“Yes, go.” he replied briefly.
Another knock followed.
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
Lea burst in, pale, disheveled, cheeks flushed, hair damp from sweat.
“I… fell asleep while brewing the seeds. I’m late—sorry. Here’s the jujube seed tea.”
She placed the tray before him. The tea had boiled a bit long, making it quite bitter. She watched anxiously.
The Duke picked up the cup with graceful composure and sipped.
“It’ll be awful…”
But instead, he drained it.
“That’s enough. I’ll take the rest later. You may go.”
“Yes, of course! I’m so sorry. I won’t be late tonight.”
She hurried out, relief flooding her. The Duke watched her leave, then stared at the empty cup. Soon, steam curled upward, slowly warming the cool air.
He shook his head at the lingering warmth she brought—and at his own unexpected satisfaction.
That evening, Lea pushed through ivy-covered walls to reach the annex. The scent of lilies of the valley—subtle lemon notes—filled the air.
“Your Grace, it’s Lea. May I come in?”
The Duke sat at a table, candlelight dancing across his stern features. His crimson eyes glowed under the moonlight, and she felt her heart race.
“I can’t get used to those eyes…”
She stepped closer, carefully removing a small kit.
“I didn’t sleep well after getting soaked yesterday. I’ve brought tools to check for side effects. May I begin?”
He eyed her bag, then raised an eyebrow.
“What’s that for?”
“To monitor any reactions—it’s been two weeks.”
He frowned slightly but gave no objection.
As she unpacked, her coughs worsened. Worry flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t pull away.
“May I start?”
He clicked his tongue.
“Do as you want.”
To her surprise, he was uncharacteristically compliant. His wariness seemed softened—perhaps by the tea, or her perseverance.
She worked, brewing herbs: phansin, bruise(?), dern—remedies more for colds and fatigue than detox.
As she prepared a tonic, he watched intently. She offered him a small bottle.
“Here it is. I gather you take these often for strength—but not too much.”
He raised his chin.
“Drink it.”
“Yes?”
“If you’re carrying a cold, I don’t want to catch it. Drink.”
He insisted quietly but firmly. Breathing deeply, Lea uncorked the bottle and prepared to help him stay well as the night deepened and trust edged forward between them.
