TMLWA 89

Chapter 89

“Dinner… just the two of us?”

Anne’s heart skipped a beat at the news Donna had delivered.

“She’s your fiancée, after all. Of course you should! You two need to spend more time together, go on dates, enjoy yourselves. You’re the future lady of the house, after all~.”

The word date made Anne’s heart flutter despite herself, but she quickly tried to rein in her excitement.

We’re engaged. It’s only natural for him to take care of me like this. Noblemen, even in arranged marriages, usually make some effort to show respect to their partners.

“What about Lady Victoria, though?”

Anne couldn’t help worrying. Unless there was some particular engagement, Victoria always had dinner and tea time with them. Without her, the young lady would have to eat alone.

“She’s not a child. She can eat by herself. Before you came, she always dined alone—”

But Anne shook her head at Donna’s persuasion.

“No. It’s better if we eat together. It’s been a while since she’s seen the Lord, hasn’t it?”

Last night had been a banquet crowded with guests. They hadn’t even had the chance to talk properly. She’s his family. I should yield to her.

And truthfully, Anne still found it a little embarrassing, even awkward, to be alone with Hannibal as his fiancée.

A few hours later, the three of them gathered in the dining room.

“Am I intruding on a date between you two?” Victoria teased brightly. Hannibal’s brows knit slightly, but Anne smiled at her.

“Of course not. It’s been so long since you’ve seen each other—it’s wonderful to dine together as a family.”

“That’s right! We’re all family now.”

Though Anne had meant Hannibal and Victoria, both of them looked at her and nodded in satisfaction.

The meal was served. On Anne’s plate lay a delicately seasoned steak, flavored only with salt.

“The vegetables were cooked separately with herbs. Do they suit your taste?”

“Yes, they’re much better this way.”

Hannibal set aside his own food and instead watched her closely, as though studying which dishes she preferred and which she disliked.

“You’ll bore a hole in her, brother. Stop staring so much,” Victoria scolded with a playful glare.

Only then did Hannibal straighten, coughing awkwardly.
“My apologies…”

“It’s… it’s fine.”

Flustered, both he and Anne busied themselves cutting their steaks to pieces, while Victoria alone seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

“I hope it’ll always be like this. When Anne marries you—”

Bang!

The sudden crash shattered Victoria’s cheerful imagining.

“tsk.”

Count Arthur had appeared, pushing open the dining room doors.

“What brings you here?” Hannibal’s voice was anything but welcoming.

“I heard the three of you were having a cozy family meal.”

Apparently, one of the servants preparing dinner had chattered just enough for Arthur to overhear and come barging in.

“If your fiancée counts as family, then surely her father does too. Ungrateful wretches.”

His thunderous rebuke came with a glare directed at Anne.

She didn’t flinch. He had always treated her as a servant, always spoken down to her.

Anne met his gaze with steady composure and offered the barest of polite greetings. Her restrained courtesy only seemed to sour his mood further, but he strode inside regardless.

“Have you come to dine with us?” Hannibal asked.

“Why else would I come to the dining room at supper time?” he snapped, plopping himself shamelessly into a seat.

He rarely dined with them, and almost never came of his own accord—but since he had, there was no graceful way to drive him out.

Anne quickly signaled to the chef, who brought a portion for Arthur.

“Please, join us.”

The once-pleasant dinner grew stifling. Hannibal’s patience cracked.

“You could have eaten in the annex. Why force yourself here?”

Arthur ignored his children’s discomfort and sliced into his steak.

“The greenhouse in the back garden looks neglected. Do you ever clean it properly?”

Since when has he cared about the state of the estate? Hannibal and Victoria stared at him, baffled, while Anne’s face had gone pale.

“The main house chef is better, at least,” Arthur muttered, smacking his lips noisily.

“I’ll send the chef from the main house to the annex for your meals from now on,” Hannibal replied pointedly—his way of saying don’t come here again.

Arthur was not a welcome guest. Proof enough was Anne, who had barely touched her food since he arrived.

Regardless of the glares from around the table, the Count polished off his steak and looked up as dessert was brought in.

“What do you call this dish?”

“Chateaubriand, my lord.”

“Ah, my memory isn’t what it used to be. Bring me some paper.”

He pulled a pen from his breast pocket, scribbled something on the sheet the servant provided, folded it, and tucked it away. Rising to his feet, he waved off the dessert.

“Forget it. Who can enjoy sweets in this atmosphere? Tch tch.”

Making it plain that his children displeased him, Count Arthur swept out of the dining room.

Did he really come all this way just for a steak?

His behavior bordered on bizarre; none of them could make sense of it.

“What on earth was that?” Victoria cried, finally setting down the knife she had been clutching tensely.

“There was nothing unusual reported from the annex…” Hannibal muttered, recalling the servants’ accounts. Then what was all that about?

The appetite at the table had died. Anne, especially, sat silent as stone, haunted by what Arthur had carelessly mentioned.

“Anne, are you all right?”

“Hm? Y-yes, I was just startled when he suddenly appeared.”

Victoria tapped her shoulder lightly, making her jump.

“Let’s call it a night,” Hannibal suggested, noticing Anne’s unsettled state.

As they rose, a servant clearing Arthur’s dishes exclaimed, “Oh? The Count left his fountain pen behind.”

Anne’s eyes widened.

A cheap pen with a golden band around its cap. Common in Haiman, but still an extravagance for commoners.

And it was identical to the one Grey Benton had once given her—the gift she had treasured and kept locked away, even as she lay dying in her past life.

Am I imagining things? Or… is this a message from Grey, delivered through Count Arthur?

“What pen?”

“Some nameless trinket. Throw it out,” Hannibal snapped when Victoria reached curiously for it.

Male nobles had few accessories—perhaps cufflinks, a tie, shoes, a watch, and yes, a fountain pen. Hannibal’s instant recognition only made it stranger.

Count Arthur would never use a cheap pen.

“…Still, what if he comes back looking for it? I’ll return it to him,” Anne said quickly, taking the pen from Victoria.

She forced her trembling hands steady, schooling her face while Hannibal’s gaze bored into her.

When he held out his hand to take it, she clutched it tighter.

“I’ll deliver it. There’s no need for you to go to the annex,” Hannibal insisted.

But Anne shook her head.

“No. You’re busy, my lord. I’ll be quick.”

Determined to dispose of it at once, she hurried out, almost as if fleeing.

Hannibal’s eyes followed her, then dimmed with a quiet murmur.

“She still calls me ‘my lord’…”

Only regret lingered in his voice.

At the annex entrance, Anne caught her breath, then straightened and asked a servant to summon Count Arthur to the reception room.

If Grey appears, I’ll throw this pen at him and tell him never to pull such stunts again.

If it’s Arthur, I’ll just hand it over and leave.

Clenching her fists, she waited nervously until at last the door opened.

“Sis!”

It wasn’t Arthur or Grey, but her younger brother, Jamie, who ran to her first. Behind him came Count Arthur and Grey Benton.

“I realized I haven’t given you enough time with your brother. Why don’t we all share some tea, Anne?” Arthur suggested smoothly.

“We just had dinner, but Sis, let’s eat dessert together!” Jamie chirped, slipping his arm through hers.

Though she was glad to see her brother, the sight of Arthur and Grey soured her stomach until she thought she might vomit up even the little she had eaten.

She disentangled herself from Jamie and extended the pen.

“You seemed to have left this behind, so I came to return it.”

Feigning ignorance, she handed it to Arthur.

“If you’re uncomfortable, feel free to relax here with Jamie,” Grey said pleasantly.

While Anne hesitated, the two men left, as if they truly had no ulterior motives.

“But Master, really? We prepared tea for you and the Count…” a servant began.

“Eat it all yourselves, then. Enjoy it for us,” Grey replied with a genial smile.

“Thank you, sir!”

With the Count and Duke gone, the servants brought in refreshments. Anne found herself seated across from Jamie.

“Sis!”

“Mm? Yes.”

He suddenly thrust a madeleine at her, grinning as she accepted it.

“So, are you getting along well with the young lord?”

At his innocent words, Anne glimpsed Grey’s shadow lingering behind him. In the past she might have dismissed it as a simple question. But now…

Just as Grey had manipulated Arthur to leave the pen behind, was he now using Jamie to probe her?

“…Yes, we’re getting along well enough.”

Anne forced a bright smile, hiding her unease.