Chapter 42

When Hermia opened her eyes, it was still an early morning with rain pouring down.

Had she only slept for three hours? With a face still marked by sleepiness, she picked up the blanket that had fallen on the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders like a shawl as she stepped out of her room.

The mansion, lit by lamps along the corridor, was bright and quiet. If it weren’t for the loud footprints on the carpet and the hastily hung front door, one might think last night’s chaos was just a dream.

“When did they leave…?”

She mumbled as she entered the empty guest room. It had felt crowded enough to make the room seem small.

The bedding she had brought was neatly folded on the bed and sofa, and the interior felt so deserted that it echoed.

Hermia closed the door and turned her weary steps toward the dining room. Aside from the sound of her slippers brushing against the floor and the gentle patter of rain, an eerie silence enveloped her.

“When did they clean this…?”

The table where they had eaten and chatted was also spotless, without a speck of dust. The tablecloth was laid out perfectly at an exact angle, making it feel strangely unfamiliar.

Just to check, she opened the kitchen door, only to find everything cleaned up, including washed dishes and organized utensils.

It’s nice to have nothing to do. Despite her inner thoughts, her lips pouted slightly.

Hermia filled a kettle with water and turned off the heat once it began to boil before adding tea leaves. While the tea brewed, she began arranging items on a silver tray.

The elegant teapot, teacups, and dessert plates that were exclusively for the countess all matched in design. She quickly placed two scones on an antique plate and set out jam, a butter knife, and linen napkins.

Carefully pouring tea into the teapot, she gingerly picked up the tray and headed to the dining room but then turned around.

It feels too spacious here; it seems a bit cold. She thought defensively even though no one asked.

She was about to start breakfast at the sofa table when she heard the mansion’s chime ringing from outside on the terrace.

‘Have the repairmen already arrived? It’s still early. Are those caramel men back again?’

Without even touching the scones, Hermia quickly stood up after swallowing a sip of herbal tea.

She hurriedly put on a short raincoat with sleeves that barely covered her arms and rushed down the stairs. For some reason, she suddenly felt energized.

As she stepped out through the kitchen’s back door while pulling up her hood, she was already running.

Splashing through puddles, she reached just in front of the iron gate when she heard a voice that silenced all surrounding noise in an instant.

“Good morning.”

“……”

Hermia stood still, panting heavily. Throughout her breath-catching moment, her gaze remained fixed on one spot.

“Miss Hermia.”

A pleasant low voice resonated in her ears. In that instant, all her thoughts came to a halt.

Walter Rockford stood beyond the door. The dawn light was starting to brighten but somehow he looked as if he were standing in midday sunlight through the iron bars.

“…Your Grace?”

Deliberately blinking to clear her mind, Hermia hurriedly opened the front door. Upon seeing him again, she noticed his face was wet from rain.

“Did you get caught in the rain?”

Walter wore a long frock coat instead of a raincoat; his clothes and hair were soaked through. Drops of water hanging from his hair fell onto his neatly shaped face.

She immediately craned her neck to look around.

The shadows that had been following Walter were nowhere to be seen. Aside from a black horse prancing a few steps away, there was no one else around.

On this deserted street were only Walter Rockford and his mount Victory.

So he rode here through the rain on horseback. Not in a carriage but on horseback. Alone at this hour. To see me.

Hermia clenched her fists tightly. It felt like her voice wouldn’t come out unless she exerted some strength somewhere.

“What are you doing here so early when there is no emergency?”

Seeing Hermia looking somewhat dissatisfied, Walter lowered his wet eyelashes.

“I came by for… something nearby and thought I’d stop by to say hello.”

If you’re going to make excuses, at least be shameless about it; clearly, he couldn’t lie well at all.

“You came because you got a report from Mr. Canty, didn’t you?”

Ignoring his unconvincing words completely, she said incredulously. He was even wearing slippers!

“Yes.”

Even though it was an expected answer, her heart trembled helplessly.

To think he looked so melancholic when he was drenched like this…

Stay calm, Hermia. Don’t get flustered; please… Please…

“First, you should come inside. The front door is locked; go back and use the back door.”

Hermia spoke deliberately curtly as she went out to fetch Victory. Walter naturally caught up with her and took hold of the reins instead of her.

“If you tell me where the stable is, I’ll leave him there.”

“There’s no stable keeper. We have to leave him at a nearby storage facility.”

The household staff responsible for the horses was probably on a train heading home or already fast asleep. Leaving such an expensive-looking horse alone was out of the question.

“They provide horse boarding at the relay station. You can leave him there and pick him up later. Do you have money?”

Seeing him in pajama pants and slippers made her ask; Walter rummaged through his jacket pockets. Not finding anything there, he reached into his inner pocket and pulled something out.

It was a gun.

“Ah.”

“…It’s fine. I’ll pay.”

If it had been someone else, she would have charged interest too; but compared to what she received at the Duke’s residence, this amount was nothing…

“I can pay for it. I’ve become quite generous”

“I’ll pay you back later—with interest too.”

Hermia bit her lip. She had thought she’d kept her thoughts to herself, but apparently not.

—

After leaving Victory at the storage facility and borrowing an umbrella, the way back was a clear morning.

As a boy delivering newspapers rode past them on his bicycle, Walter tilted the umbrella a bit more toward Hermia.

“It’s fine. The coachman has probably seen my face already.”

She mentioned it because she was concerned about Walter’s shoulder, which was sticking out from under the umbrella, but he didn’t budge at all.

“You don’t have to worry about the coachman. There won’t be any news about today in the papers.”

He didn’t seem like the type to have that kind of courage. Walter kept that thought to himself as he spoke.

“I apologize for not being properly dressed.”

If rumors spread about a Duke and his fiancée wandering the streets in slippers at such an early hour, it was obvious who would bear the brunt of the criticism.

Although both of them were at fault—one for being poorly dressed and the other for coming out so early—Walter knew that it would be the woman who would face issues regarding reputation.

Regretting his short-sightedness, Walter apologized, and Hermia glanced at his trousers.

“It’s fine. If you don’t look closely, no one would think those pants are pajamas. At least you’re wearing a coat over them.”

“……”

At Hermia’s words, Walter held his collar tightly.

“…You’re not actually wearing anything underneath, are you?”

“I tend not to wear a shirt when I sleep. It’s been a habit since I was young…”

Both of them fell silent at this sudden revelation. Unable to endure the quiet, Hermia blurted out,

“I guess your house was warm. I lived in a cold house when I was young, so I have a habit of wearing layers and covering myself with blankets.”

“I see. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Walter replied briefly and then suddenly stiffened his expression.

Whenever she talked with the Duke, Hermia didn’t understand why breathing became difficult. She had to keep moving her stiff limbs.

The two of them walked steadily back to the mansion, entering through the kitchen’s back door after circling around the garden.

The door was set to the average height of the servants, similar to Walter’s head. He slightly bowed his head as he entered and wore an apologetic expression.

“I’ll make sure to fix the front door as soon as possible.”

“Don’t scold them; they didn’t break it with bad intentions.”

Hermia said as she entered first, taking off her raincoat and pulling out a dry towel from the cupboard.

“Mr. Canty and Mr. Ross all seem like good people.”

“You know their names…?”

“I got acquainted with everyone while we were having dinner yesterday. So Tom Canty is the leader and…”

Hermia recited the code names of the unit members like Bob Ross, Pederollino, and Cheval while stacking up towels neatly.

“Oh right, there was someone in disguise too, but he had hairy calves.”

“You had dinner together then. That early morning.”

“It was raining and late at night; I couldn’t just tell them to leave. No matter what, I can show that much generosity.”

Walter had never received a report about all male members of his unit eating here, including Tom Canty. It made sense since he had dashed out of his bedroom before hearing all that from his subordinate.

As his mood began to drop sharply, Hermia handed him a towel.

“Here, dry your hair at least.”

“…Thank you.”

While watching Walter shake off water from his face and hair, Hermia impulsively asked,

“Would you like to have a meal together?”

Then she immediately corrected herself upon seeing him stop moving.

“No, never mind. It wouldn’t be right to serve you food without a chef.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Pardont? No way. The ingredients won’t be suitable for your taste anyway…”

“I’ll buy the ingredients and cook myself.”

Walter expressed his eagerness actively. Hermia hesitated for a moment before scratching her cheek awkwardly.

“It’s a good idea, but going out again after just coming back is a bit bothersome…”

“There’s no need to go out.”

He said briefly before whistling outside through the open door. Suddenly, a dark figure appeared out of nowhere and bowed its head.

“Go buy some food ingredients. Anything will do; just hurry.”

Walter turned back after casually giving orders and wore a satisfied smile as if everything had been resolved.

‘Did he have another subordinate? If so, why didn’t he just send them instead of making me feel uneasy walking in this rain?’

Hermia looked at him with narrowed eyes before reaching out her hand for the towel she used earlier. Walter unconsciously took her hand.

“No, I meant the towel, not an escort…”

“Oh. My apologies.”

When she gestured toward the towel hanging around his neck, only then did Walter awkwardly withdraw his hand.