WYRS 9

Chapter 9

A quiet smile lingered on Freya’s lips as she pictured that serene landscape in her mind.

That alone was enough. That was all she had ever wanted. A marriage couldn’t be called unhappy just because she wasn’t fond of her fiancé’s looks. Above all, the greatest comfort was that she could continue living at Swan Manor.

Freya calmly accepted the reality given to her. When she reached out her hand, Jacob slipped a ring onto her finger.

Looking at the diamond glittering on her ring finger, Freya broke into a bright smile. Smiling—this was the one thing she was confident in. No matter the circumstances, whenever she smiled as if everything were perfectly fine, people couldn’t help but love her.

“With this, the engagement ceremony is successfully—”

Bang—!

Before the host could even finish his words, someone slammed the cathedral door shut and stormed out. The noise was so loud that Freya turned in shock.

“Harford? Wasn’t that Blake Harford who just left?”

“What’s that shameless man doing at the Swan engagement?”

The murmuring swelled. Flustered by the disruption, the host hurriedly rushed through the engagement declaration.

“Everyone, please congratulate them!”

Only then did the guests turn their eyes back to the front. Whatever the case, an engagement was an occasion to celebrate. The audience offered a half-hearted round of applause to the soon-to-be newlyweds.

As soon as he stepped outside, the stifling air hit him. Blake stormed out of the cathedral with irritable steps.

His driver spotted him and quickly opened the car door. Blake yanked off his tie the moment he sat inside. The breeze slipping through the slightly open window gave him the barest sense of relief.

“Shall I take you to the office, sir?”

“Yes.”

When Blake gave a curt nod, the luxury sedan glided forward. Unable to endure the heavy silence in the car, the driver attempted to start a conversation.

“How was the engagement ceremony, sir?”

Blake froze at the question. The driver’s face reflected in the rear-view mirror was unfamiliar. Then he recalled Hagen mentioning that Ian was on vacation and a temporary driver had been hired in his place.

Was it starting today…?

Blake wasn’t in the mood for idle chatter with a stranger. But since this man was new, he decided he should at least maintain minimal courtesy. Stroking his chin briefly, Blake replied smoothly.

“Ah, it was astoundingly dreadful.”

“Well, judging by the crowd that gathered, it seems the House of Swan is truly prestigious. I’ve heard they’re one of the kingdom’s most distinguished families. And to think even you attended, Mr. Harford—it must mean the rumors were right.”

The driver prattled on, seemingly eager to flatter. But his words hit the rawest nerve.

Rage boiled up inside Blake. Prestigious family. Yes, that’s what everyone called that foul, rotten house. Blake turned his gaze toward the window, muttering quietly to the driver who had no idea he was insulting his employer’s enemy.

“Hagen must have warned you when you were hired, didn’t he?”

“P–pardon…?”

“My time is gold. That includes moments when I need quiet to collect my thoughts. Do you understand now?”

The driver’s face drained of color.

“M-my deepest apologies, sir. I spoke out of turn—”

“Silence. Just drive in silence.”

At Blake’s curt dismissal, the driver clamped his mouth shut, his heart pounding with dread.

He had heard Harford tolerated no mistakes. It had been only days since he had bragged about his small connection to the Harford family by hosting a party. And now—

While the driver fidgeted, Blake lifted his eyes skyward. The blazing sun was slowly being swallowed by dark clouds. The growing strength of the wind made him frown slightly before speaking.

“Change of plans. Not the office—take me home.”

The driver nodded wordlessly and turned the car around.

When Blake opened the front door, the butler Albert was already waiting, taking his hat with practiced precision. The efficiency made Blake smile faintly.

“It’s almost as if you knew I’d be back early.”

“The sky is overcast, sir. From experience, I know you always return home sooner when storm clouds gather.”

“Preparations?”

“As soon as I saw the clouds, I contacted Dr. Bernard. The nurses are also standing by.”

“Thank you, Albert. You know how grateful I always am, don’t you?”

Albert only inclined his head respectfully. Blake patted his shoulder a few times before climbing the stairs. Midway up, he stopped as something occurred to him.

“Oh—tell Hagen to hire a new driver. And make sure he’s trained properly.”

“Understood, sir. Your father is in the library.”

“Of course he is. Then I’ll trouble you with dinner arrangements.”

Blake waved and walked briskly away.

As the hallway darkened, the lamps lit up one by one. Blake’s steps carried him swiftly to the library at the far end. He straightened his hair and clothes, then pushed open the heavy door.

“Father, I’m home.”

At his voice, Tyson Harford, who stood with hands clasped behind his back, facing the window, lifted a hand in greeting. Blake began to tidy the cluttered desk by picking up an open book.

“Don’t even think about it, Blake. My desk has its own order.”

“What kind of order could a desk this messy have—”

“Not everything is as it seems.”

Blake sighed and reluctantly joined his father at the window. Tyson, still gazing outside, asked kindly:

“So, did you enjoy your outing?”

“Well, it was… tolerable.”

“Don’t lie. Dissatisfaction is written all over your face.”

Even without looking, Tyson read his son’s mood with uncanny precision.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“I don’t need to see. I can tell everything just from the sound of your footsteps. I’m your father.”

Blake gave a short laugh, then glanced anxiously at the ominous sky. Gripping his father’s arm, he tried to lighten the mood.

“Let’s go have a fine dinner. I’ll feel better with you there.”

“You’re in a hurry—must mean a thunderstorm is coming. Am I right? I can smell the rain.”

Blake’s expression darkened at Tyson’s calm words. Tyson extended his hand, and Blake silently handed him the cane. Tyson tapped the floor as he walked.

“I’m always sorry to you, son.”

“You know I hate hearing that.”

“And I’m sorry for making you hate hearing it.”

Tyson chuckled faintly, and Blake found himself laughing too.

His father always managed to make him smile. Blake lingered for a moment, watching Tyson stride forward with confidence despite his blindness, then followed after him.

The sky rumbled ominously. The storm was almost here.

The light rain that began in the afternoon grew into a fierce storm by nightfall. Freya stood rigid by the window, staring at the fickle summer weather.

“To think—it was the Count of Swan himself, drunk at his own reception! The previous count never once let drink overtake him. And now our young lady’s fiancé is just as disgraceful… it makes me want to cry.”

Nancy poured out her frustrations while brushing Freya’s hair with heavy strokes. Freya smiled faintly and gently chided her maid.

“Don’t, Nancy. He’s our master now. Speaking ill of him is no different from shaming ourselves.”

“Still, my lady, you deserve better. Everyone was gossiping so viciously today…”

“Nancy.”

Freya caught her wrist, her smile gone. For Freya, it was the strongest expression of disapproval she ever showed. Nancy met her mistress’s sharp gaze, then sighed.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I just… couldn’t stand it. All those suitors who once swore they’d give anything for you—where are they now? Men… they’re all the same.”

“They simply weren’t meant for me. And things could’ve turned out far worse. You know Father’s candidates included men more than twenty years my senior. Some were widowers with children.”

“That may be true… but I only wish for your happiness.”

“Thank you, Nancy. But I truly am content.”

“My lady…”

Nancy rubbed her sleeve across her tearful eyes. Freya wore the same quiet smile as always. But Nancy knew better than anyone that it was not a smile of satisfaction.

She let out another heavy sigh. No matter what she said tonight, the words would only come out bitter. Still, she didn’t want to spoil Freya’s mood further. In the end, Nancy chose silence.