Chapter 4: To Remove the Shell
Chapter 4: To Remove the Shell
“Late again today, I see.”
A chilly voice rang out behind Kaylon as he stepped through the entrance. He stopped mid-stride and turned his gaze backward.
“Are you a ghost? Why are you lurking there instead of sleeping?”
His somewhat curt voice chided Mrs. Beightle as she approached.
“I was waiting for you, Your Grace, naturally.”
The elderly woman’s deeply wrinkled face remained impassive. She fixed Kaylon with a disapproving look—as she always did when he returned late from his outings—and launched into her speech.
“The previous Dukes always prioritized domestic harmony. They never wasted time, and even with busy schedules, they were unfailingly punctual in returning home. They held the firm belief that domestic peace led to national stability.”
“…”
Kaylon continued walking, letting Mrs. Beightle’s nagging from behind wash over him. It seemed she was prepared to lecture until his ears fell off today as well.
“Looking at the current 15th Duke, I dare say your predecessors must be turning in their graves.”
“…”
“Are you listening?”
“Yeah.”
“Lord Isaac worked alone all day today. It was quite pitiful to watch. If I were just ten years younger, I would have helped somehow. But now with my failing eyesight, I’m in no position to help. I can only stand by and watch.”
“…”
“Might I suggest you pay a bit more attention to family matters?”
“I am paying attention.”
“Pardon me, but I’m a bit hard of hearing. Would you mind repeating that?”
“…”
After a moment of silence, Mrs. Beightle let out an exaggerated sigh.
“If you’re referring to the hotel management, please delegate it to someone else. It’s unseemly for others to see you directly involved in such matters.”
“…”
His back prickled as if covered in needles. They say people tend to sleep earlier as they age, but somehow this elderly woman seemed to stay up later and later, with nothing but increasing amounts of nagging.
Swallowing his response, Kaylon took longer strides, trying to shake off Mrs. Beightle and her unnecessary worrying.
However, the elderly woman perched atop his head showed no signs of tiring—if anything, she quickened her pace.
“This is precisely why I can’t neglect my exercise. What else can one do when age limits your capabilities? If you want to live long and healthy, you must at least exercise. Don’t you agree?”
“…”
“At times like these, I think having plenty of time is truly a blessing. It means I have that much more time to guide Your Grace into becoming a proper member of society.”
“Sure, that’s great.”
Though what exactly was great, he wasn’t sure. In the end, he had to endure her nagging until he reached his room.
“Are you finished now?”
Kaylon shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto the sofa, and turned to face Mrs. Beightle. He stood with his hands in his pockets, regarding the elderly woman with slight irritation.
“No. I still have more to say.”
“Then hurry up and say it. I’m tired.”
“Then perhaps you should return home earlier.”
As the conversation threatened to circle back, Kaylon raised his hand. Mrs. Beightle shot him a sharp look before getting to her point.
“An invitation arrived from House O’Neill. They’re requesting your presence in Brikna before this season ends.”
“And?”
“What do you mean, ‘and’?”
“What did you tell them?”
“That’s for Your Grace to answer. This old woman doesn’t have such authority. It would be overstepping my bounds.”
Kaylon exhaled softly as he looked at Mrs. Beightle, standing ramrod straight in her impeccable attire. While she strictly observed proper boundaries when it mattered, she usually treated her twenty-six-year-old grand-nephew like a child.
If she was going to be like this, she might as well live out her days in dignified retirement as a respected elder. Why go through all this unnecessary trouble?
‘As if having a name erased is such a big deal.’
Since her husband Baron Beightle’s passing, Mrs. Beightle had come to live in this house where she had spent her childhood, dedicating considerable time to House Lianton. While her pride in the family was beyond measure, it could admittedly be exhausting at times.
“Alright. Anything else, madam?”
About to wave her off and head to the bathroom, Kaylon noticed Mrs. Beightle hadn’t budged and asked what else remained. She slowly stepped forward and took his hand.
“That woman won’t do.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Miss Norris. A noble title doesn’t change one’s fundamental nature.”
Kaylon’s eyebrow rose crookedly.
“Speak plainly.”
“I hear even their title was bought with a few coins by the previous Baron.”
“Did you hear that from Isaac?”
It seemed likely, given how well they got along. Despite his suspicious gaze, Mrs. Beightle remained unfazed.
“Is that what matters? Even if it’s because of Miss Claudia, we cannot have such a woman by Your Grace’s side. You should consider daughters from other distinguished families instead. Or perhaps this would be a good time to consider marriage.”
“Is this all you’ve concluded from your observations?”
Kaylon felt annoyed. So this was what she’d been thinking during her unusual silence. He couldn’t help but laugh derisively.
Of course, there was no surer way to rid oneself of an annoying woman than marriage. But he had no desire to be bound by marriage just to deal with one woman. Like in Mrs. Beightle’s lectures, at least one family tradition had been firmly ingrained in his mind—the importance of devotion to family.
That’s precisely why he needed to be even more careful about marriage, even if it meant remaining a bachelor well into his years.
“This isn’t just a conclusion—it’s the best advice I can offer. You should have been more careful, especially with a contractual relationship.”
“Enough. I won’t be changing my mind.”
Kaylon irritably pulled his hand from Mrs. Beightle’s grasp. Though he hadn’t expected her to understand his actions, he felt somewhat hurt by her opposition—surely she, of all people, should understand his feelings.
“Then does this mean you’ll accept House O’Neill’s invitation?”
“Why would I?”
“…I see.”
Mrs. Beightle’s gaze grew distant. Kaylon watched her quietly for a moment before turning away.
“You may leave now.”
“Very well. Rest well, Your Grace.”
The soft sound of footsteps retreated behind him. Kaylon watched the elderly woman’s small shoulders for a moment before entering the bathroom.
* * *
Click—the bathroom door opened, releasing a faint scent of shower cologne. Kaylon emerged, running his fingers through his hair, and noticed an envelope on the side table. The absence of a stamp suggested it was the invitation Mrs. Beightle had mentioned.
After glaring at the envelope for a moment, he roughly tore open the wax seal bearing its all-too-familiar crest.
As he pulled out the card, a lily matching the seal caught his eye first. No doubt Davira Claudia had drawn it herself with painstaking care—the thought made him furrow his brow unconsciously.
“How touching, Claudia.”
With a low snort, he skimmed the contents. The card contained nothing but brief pleasantries followed by the date and location of the ball.
He gave it a cursory glance before tossing it straight into the trash.
Why did she insist on coming to other people’s homes just to leave her garbage? Most would give up after being ignored this thoroughly, but she was truly an insufferable woman. They weren’t engaged, nor were they romantically involved.
While he could simply continue ignoring her, Brikna society quietly hoped for a marriage between him and Davira.
This was largely because the Duke of Lianton hadn’t yet announced any proper engagement, but public sympathy for Davira Claudia couldn’t be ignored either.
[Who Will Be the Next Mistress of House Lianton!]
[A Match Made in Heaven! Duke Kaylon Blaske de Lianton and Lady Davira Claudia, Only Daughter of Duke O’Neill!]
[A Day in the Life of Davira Claudia! ‘Still Waiting for His Reply Today’]
[Brikna Society’s Wild Child, Duke Lianton! Can Lady Claudia Succeed in Taming Him?]
Such headlines were always the gossip rags’ primary focus. From outdated angles to current points of interest—it was maddening how they fabricated both titles and content at will.
Lost in thought, Kaylon shook his head abruptly. Just thinking about that woman he’d rather forget was giving him a headache.
He changed into comfortable clothes and headed out. Not because he had anything particular to do, but because he didn’t want to stay in the same space as anything that came from her.
His aimless feet carried him through the dark corridor. Just as he reached the first floor, he noticed a pale light spilling from near the entrance to the main building.
Except for a few servants, this east wing was his private space. Who could be here at this late hour?
He walked forward with steady steps and opened the study door. There, he immediately found a woman asleep, slumped over the table.
“Either very brave or very foolish.”
Despite his presence, she didn’t stir.
A moment later, the short gray wool carpet, similar to a wolf’s fur, silently creased beneath his feet. With each step he took, the candlelight in the glass holder on the table flickered slightly in the disturbed air.
Kaylon quietly observed the woman sleeping with her arm as a pillow. Was her bed too comfortable? Was that why she’d decided to change sleeping spots? He couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to fall asleep in such a place—it wasn’t like she was practicing self-denial.
His gaze traveled lower. Beneath her slender arm lay an open book. As he caught glimpses of the text and illustrations, a brief smile tugged at his lips.
After mimicking every detail of breakfast etiquette this morning, she must have come to the study just to look at something like this.
At least she seemed to have some awareness of nobility?
“How admirable.”
