Chapter 6: The Eve
* * *
“Now change partners! Maintain formation. Anthony, are you trying to tease your partner? Good, now turn!”
Mrs. Beightle’s sharp voice rang out in the lesson room as the piano alternated between slow and fast pieces.
“Steps should be lighter! Like falling feathers. Miss Norris, you must look at your partner!”
She was teaching dance to Lyra along with footmen and maids who had never learned before.
“Bend and straighten your knees while looking at your partner, then bow lightly. Good, now change partners again!”
This was Mrs. Beightle’s practical approach—with the autumn social season beginning in earnest, she wanted Lyra to acclimate to the atmosphere and gain indirect experience.
Clap!
“Next, Été! The tempo changes. Faster and livelier!”
As the short piece shifted to 2/4 time, the dancers’ breathing grew rougher. Everyone’s faces showed fatigue after repeating several pieces, yet no one complained.
Lyra was no exception. Under the elderly lady’s passionate instruction, she couldn’t even request a brief rest, let alone show weakness.
With her debut approaching, she couldn’t waste the remaining time.
Tap-tap-tap, clack-clack! The sound of shoes striking the floor now kept reasonable time. Lyra was learning the quadrille that would open the ball, mastering movements that looked simple but were deceptively complex.
Someone knocked on the lesson room door. Though the sound should have been lost amid the piano melody and footsteps, Mrs. Beightle immediately recognized Kaylon’s arrival.
Quickly stopping the music, the elderly lady regarded Kaylon entering with a cool expression. She was clearly displeased at having her lesson interrupted.
“What brings you here?”
Her low voice echoed in the suddenly quiet room. The question clearly meant either ‘Why are you at the mansion in broad daylight?’ or ‘What business do you have interrupting my lesson?’
Kaylon flashed a grin at the annoyed elderly lady before turning his attention to Lyra.
“I believe I reserved her for today.”
He studied Lyra’s face, gleaming with sweat, then slowly traced her high-tied hair and the damp strands falling beneath it.
He thought if he stepped closer and buried his nose in her nape, he’d catch the heady scent of sweat mixed with her natural fragrance. Strangely, he didn’t think he’d mind that smell.
Kaylon stopped a step away from Lyra. He absently brushed away hair stuck to her neck, glancing at her face. The fair skin flushing red was pleasing to see.
He smiled softly and turned to Mrs. Beightle.
“Have you forgotten, madam?”
His playful tone challenged the elderly lady’s feigned ignorance.
“Did I say that?”
“You did.”
“Hmm, can’t be helped then. That’s all for today. Everyone dismissed.”
At Mrs. Beightle’s command, the footmen and maids quickly left the lesson room.
“Not too long. It’s not good to draw attention already.”
“Of course.”
Kaylon smiled lightly and extended his hand to Lyra. He waited patiently as she hesitated, almost but not quite taking it.
Just then, Mrs. Beightle sighed heavily and stepped between them.
“Before that.”
She felt somewhat sorry for Lyra, who was clearly conscious of her sweaty, disheveled state. The thoughtless Duke might not mind, but a lady’s heart worked differently.
Mrs. Beightle spoke to Lyra, who was wiping her slick hands while conscious of her sweaty smell:
“Miss Norris should freshen up first. Follow me.”
As Mrs. Beightle glided away, Lyra smiled awkwardly before following her out.
Kaylon chuckled softly while watching the door where they’d disappeared. Somehow, the elderly lady’s prim look—as if she were leaving her daughter with a brigand—felt refreshingly novel.
He quietly opened and closed the hand he’d extended to Lyra as he walked outside.
* * *
Lyra looked utterly transformed, wearing a black wig under a wide-brimmed hat with a black veil concealing her face.
Perhaps due to her naturally fair skin, a strange sensuality emanated from her even with half her face covered.
Kaylon smiled softly, watching Lyra awkwardly fidget with the black hair.
“Nervous about going out after so long?”
“No, that’s not it… it’s just…”
“Then what? Why so stiff?”
His studying gaze held both curiosity and puzzlement.
Lyra avoided Kaylon’s eyes, turning to look out the window.
True, being alone with him in such a confined carriage naturally made her tense. Nobody could remain completely composed under such direct scrutiny.
But since it wasn’t the outing itself making her nervous, as Kaylon suggested, she found it hard to speak.
What should she say? She quietly bit her lip, trying to calm her trembling heart. Yet she couldn’t settle down. An unfamiliar yet familiar sensation wrapped around her entire body, starting from her head.
‘…’
Suddenly her throat tickled, and she felt a sneeze coming on. The heat blooming in her face seemed to course through her bloodstream.
When had it started? When had she begun to be so conscious of this man?
There hadn’t been a single moment when the Duke didn’t make her heart flutter. But those feelings had been quite different from what she’d just realized.
Tension, fear, reverence, guilt, gratitude.
Different emotions had shaped her perception of him. Sometimes singular, sometimes multiple.
Lyra had never doubted these feelings would conflict. So she thought this current confusion would soon settle.
As she lowered her eyes slightly, Kaylon’s voice came again.
“Have you thought about your first appearance?”
At his casual tone, her thick lashes slowly lifted from their downward gaze.
“Yes.”
“Still haven’t changed your mind?”
“No. House O’Neill’s hunting festival seems most meaningful.”
Lyra’s answers remained consistently calm. Both when first given the choice and now being asked again.
Though this was exactly what he’d intended, her composure somehow didn’t sit well with him.
Just then, he caught a glimpse of faint anxiety in his vision. He asked probingly:
“Why? There’s no need to choose such a difficult venue.”
Kaylon’s options had included his own mansion. He’d merely placed the O’Neill invitation at the top.
When Lyra had first chosen the venue, he’d been simply satisfied that she hadn’t disappointed his expectations. But suddenly he was curious about her reasoning. He quietly waited for her small lips to part.
“The more challenging the venue, the better for making a first impression. Miss Claudia certainly won’t expect it. Your attendance will already be surprising, and appearing with me will cause quite a shock.”
“Hmm… That’s certainly what I’m hoping for.”
“And…”
“What is it?”
Kaylon’s gaze dropped to her lips, which seemed about to speak but hesitated. For some reason, Lyra showed much more uncertainty than before.
After a moment, the black veil puffed with her sharp exhale, and a whispered voice emerged.
“I think my role is to disturb the party’s festivities.”
Her downcast face looked somewhat forlorn.
Kaylon gazed at Lyra’s face, which seemed not only to recognize her position precisely but to measure exactly where she would fall. Her eyes, which had seemed about to grow damp, gradually dried in the incoming breeze.
‘Was I mistaken?’
He turned to look out the window as he spoke.
“That’s right. That’s why I’m protecting you, after all.”
‘Protection…’
The word, unused for so long, felt alien to him. What right did he have to speak of protection while pushing a woman’s life into the gutter?
It was contradictory.
He stared at the scenery with cool eyes before smirking.
“Memorize this route well. You’ll need to know what’s where to lie convincingly.”
His expression now smooth again, Kaylon observed the thick trees gradually turning to autumn colors. It was an impressive avenue with large poplars planted in scattered pairs.
Lyra etched the passing scenery into her memory as Kaylon instructed. The tall trees reaching high into the sky, the blue-green lake along the dirt road, the small cabin visible in the distant field with grazing sheep.
The clear sky, deep tree shadows, cool air, the scent of dry earth and grass, and… the rich musk fragrance mixed with the wind.
It was a moment deeply imprinting in her mind what might be their first and last date—and an alibi.
