Chapter 43
Walter’s fingers, which Hermia had briefly held, felt cold. He seemed a bit paler than usual.
What if he catches a cold? It would be entirely her fault.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Hermia spoke up.
“Would you like to take a bath?”
“I’m fine.”
“I think it would be good to soak in hot water for a bit.”
Ignoring his refusal, Hermia turned her body. The largest bathroom in the mansion would naturally be in her father’s bedroom, so she headed that way.
As soon as she opened the bathroom door, a sigh of relief escaped her. Fortunately, there was a luxurious bathtub that wouldn’t be embarrassing to show off.
When she turned on the hot water valve to the maximum and stood up, Walter followed her in. He stood at the entrance with a somewhat awkward expression.
“This is…”
“It’s my father’s bedroom. It’s fine. It’s clean.”
Hermia said casually while taking bath salts from the shelf.
“Surprisingly, it doesn’t smell at all.”
“That’s not the issue; I think it would be rude to use this without the owner’s permission.”
“Then would you like to go to my bathroom?”
“No, I’ll just wash here.”
See? He was going to do this anyway. Hermia smiled slightly to herself as she reached for the robe hanging on the wall.
“I can’t help you with bathing service, so you’ll have to wash by yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, should I help after all?”
“No, I’m fine.”
After his firm refusal and the bathroom door closed, Hermia chuckled softly. She realized again that teasing the Duke was quite enjoyable.
“No, I’m fine.” His stiff replies and flustered expressions were cute compared to his usual strict demeanor; she almost wanted to capture that moment in a painting and frame it.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she mimicked Walter’s tone saying “No, I’m fine,” when suddenly she turned back toward the bathroom.
“Oh right. I need to take a bath too.”
She hadn’t washed since bathing yesterday morning before Lucy left… No, she hadn’t.
Even if she couldn’t dress up beautifully for her guest, at least she wanted to look tidy…
“What the? Why do I look like this?”
Hermia’s eyes widened as she looked back into the mirror. Her wrinkled muslin dress and hair tied haphazardly were a complete mess.
Meeting the Duke in such a state would have been truly embarrassing if her face hadn’t been able to cover it up.
She thought it was a relief that she still looked innocent even after waking up and then began observing herself closely.
Sometimes looking natural isn’t so bad; upon closer inspection, her hair flowing down looked surprisingly nice. She appeared more mature than usual, almost like an atmospheric unknown actress.
While she was confident that her beauty wouldn’t lose out anywhere, the only thing lacking might be maturity. Unfortunately, that was something Hermia couldn’t help at this moment. It would naturally come with time.
‘I wonder what kind of taste the Duke has.’
Naturally curious thoughts arose. He must have been tempted many times; had he never given in even once? Not even once? Just a little?
As Hermia turned back toward her room, she found herself unexpectedly deep in thought.
Among men, there are those who prefer women with mature charm; what about Walter?
Her father was a typical example of someone who only fell for older women. For reference, her biological mother was two years older than Count Arnold, and Lady Olivia was five years older than him.
Setting aside her father’s consistent taste in strange matters, as she entered the bathroom and began removing her clothes casually, she continued her thoughts.
According to Irene, among nobles, upper-class individuals often enjoyed secret meetings with ballerinas or opera singers. It was easy to approach them under the guise of being a fan, and many witty individuals with knowledge and culture made for good conversation partners.
“Could it be that the Duke…?”
Imagining Walter presenting flowers to another woman made her grip on the soap tighten suddenly.
Imagining him kissing the hand of a languidly smiling woman and saying in his characteristic polite tone “I’m your fan” made her teeth clench together.
As her imagination extended to scenes of him passionately embracing a woman behind the empty stage curtains after a performance…
“That’s ridiculous!”
It felt suffocating as if she had stuffed dry bread down her throat. She buried both hands into her hair in frustration.
What did it matter where Walter rolled around with someone else when she had already decided to run away!
It was absurd that she was getting angry at herself for imagining such things alone.
What am I doing? I only liked his face and body. What am I trying to achieve? This is just ridiculous.
Despite thinking this way, meaningless curses slipped out between her lips.
“Damn it. What’s so funny? It’s not funny at all…”
Because she hadn’t turned off the faucet in time, water overflowed outside the bathtub. When she lowered her head, water flowed along the tiles and reached her feet.
How did it rise so much? No matter when it happened, one thing was certain: this was going to be trouble.
To erase her frustration, Hermia scrubbed her hair until it felt like all of it might come out and rubbed the sponge against her skin until it felt raw.
After finishing what felt like a war of a bath and stepping out tiredly, there was commotion downstairs. From the banging sounds, it seemed repairmen had arrived.
While choosing clothes in the dressing room, she gave up on anything uncomfortable for herself and picked out a chiffon dress that wrapped around like a robe with ties at the waist.
She chose it purely for convenience; it wasn’t because it resembled the shower robe she had given to Walter.
“Hmm.”
A sense of regret lingered over the hairstyle. If only Andy or Lucy were here, they would have swapped towels and squeezed the water out of her hair, but alone, she lacked the strength and time to do so.
With no other choice, she stepped out of the room with her wet hair draped under one shoulder. The scene before her inevitably reminded her of the moment she first met Walter beneath the railing.
Hermia found herself dazed once again.
Walter, dressed in a uniform and looking impeccable, was a stark contrast to how he appeared now. Though it was the same person, Hermia felt differently than she did at that time.
He wore a gown of soft blue with a subtle sheen, crossing his arms while directing people around him. When he looked up and their eyes met—his olive-green gaze felt as if it could pull her in—something inside her crumbled.
As Walter moved towards the stairs, Hermia descended step by step while keeping her gaze locked with his.
When she took his outstretched hand two steps down, her heart began to race wildly. This was undoubtedly an unexpected tragedy that had not been part of her plans.
Walter’s gaze shifted from her eyes to her shoulder.
“Your hair is still damp.”
“…So is yours, Your Grace.”
A humid breeze blew through the open door, sweeping away everything around them and leaving only herself and him in the world.
Just as Hermia raised her hand to touch Walter’s bangs…
“Should we make the handle decoration just like the original?”
“Yes!”
The two of them, unable to tear their eyes away from each other, turned their heads simultaneously at the response. The worker holding the broken handle flinched and hesitated to step back.
Thanks to the interruption, the world around them came back into focus. Walter let out a quiet sigh, then stepped as if to shield Hermia and led her toward the kitchen.
—
The two stood in silence for a while as they looked at the food laid out on the kitchen counter.
The items brought by code name “Eagle” were ordinary but in quantities that were anything but ordinary. It was far more than one person could carry alone.
There were five baskets full of eggs, a large piece of raw meat whose origin was unidentifiable, a loaf of bread as big as a human head, chunks of cheddar and blue cheese emitting smells from afar, and heaps of vegetables and fruits as if they had just been harvested from a field.
Additionally, various bags of flour were scattered on the floor. They already had flour at home.
“We could invite the entire capital to a feast.”
“……”
Feeling overwhelmed rather than motivated, Hermia opened the pantry door and retrieved some leftover scones.
“Let’s just use these. They might be a bit hard now, but they should be fine with hot tea.”
“Do you perhaps like soufflé?”
Walter rolled up the sleeves of his robe as he asked. When Hermia blinked and repeated, “Soufflé?” he corrected himself.
“I meant pancakes. Do you like them?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll make that.”
Hermia sat on a stool watching Walter start to prepare something. She was already fond of how he washed his hands before cooking.
He took several eggs and skillfully separated the whites from the yolks before whipping them up.
Hermia rested her chin on her hand and admired Walter’s muscular arms. She deeply understood why maids at the duke’s residence carried binoculars.
“This is fun.”
At her unexpected comment, Walter looked up. She casually changed the subject.
“When did you learn to cook? Do you cook often, Your Grace?”
Walter smiled faintly as he added sugar to the puffing egg whites.
“I learned a few things when I was young. Not by choice; it was Melissa who…”
Melissa. Along with her name, his smile faded away.
He continued speaking in an even tone as if trying not to acknowledge it.
“She wanted to know if I could make soufflé because it tasted good when served as a snack. So I learned it and picked up a few things.”
“……”
Hermia nodded silently with a smile on her face, afraid of what she might say if she opened her mouth. She hoped it looked genuine enough.
She felt grateful that he shared memories of Melissa without holding back. It made his claim that they grew up like siblings without romantic feelings feel even more sincere.
Compared to such a man, she felt like a coward.
A coward who thinks about running away for fear of being abandoned if her feelings change.
She truly didn’t know what to do. Why did this man appear in her life and shake everything about her?
And why was she swept away into such turmoil?
Walter’s fingers, which Hermia had briefly held, felt cold. He seemed a bit paler than usual.
What if he catches a cold? It would be entirely her fault.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Hermia spoke up.
“Would you like to take a bath?”
“I’m fine.”
“I think it would be good to soak in hot water for a bit.”
Ignoring his refusal, Hermia turned her body. The largest bathroom in the mansion would naturally be in her father’s bedroom, so she headed that way.
As soon as she opened the bathroom door, a sigh of relief escaped her. Fortunately, there was a luxurious bathtub that wouldn’t be embarrassing to show off.
When she turned on the hot water valve to the maximum and stood up, Walter followed her in. He stood at the entrance with a somewhat awkward expression.
“This is…”
“It’s my father’s bedroom. It’s fine. It’s clean.”
Hermia said casually while taking bath salts from the shelf.
“Surprisingly, it doesn’t smell at all.”
“That’s not the issue; I think it would be rude to use this without the owner’s permission.”
“Then would you like to go to my bathroom?”
“No, I’ll just wash here.”
See? He was going to do this anyway. Hermia smiled slightly to herself as she reached for the robe hanging on the wall.
“I can’t help you with bathing service, so you’ll have to wash by yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, should I help after all?”
“No, I’m fine.”
After his firm refusal and the bathroom door closed, Hermia chuckled softly. She realized again that teasing the Duke was quite enjoyable.
“No, I’m fine.” His stiff replies and flustered expressions were cute compared to his usual strict demeanor; she almost wanted to capture that moment in a painting and frame it.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she mimicked Walter’s tone saying “No, I’m fine,” when suddenly she turned back toward the bathroom.
“Oh right. I need to take a bath too.”
She hadn’t washed since bathing yesterday morning before Lucy left… No, she hadn’t.
Even if she couldn’t dress up beautifully for her guest, at least she wanted to look tidy…
“What the? Why do I look like this?”
Hermia’s eyes widened as she looked back into the mirror. Her wrinkled muslin dress and hair tied haphazardly were a complete mess.
Meeting the Duke in such a state would have been truly embarrassing if her face hadn’t been able to cover it up.
She thought it was a relief that she still looked innocent even after waking up and then began observing herself closely.
Sometimes looking natural isn’t so bad; upon closer inspection, her hair flowing down looked surprisingly nice. She appeared more mature than usual, almost like an atmospheric unknown actress.
While she was confident that her beauty wouldn’t lose out anywhere, the only thing lacking might be maturity. Unfortunately, that was something Hermia couldn’t help at this moment. It would naturally come with time.
‘I wonder what kind of taste the Duke has.’
Naturally curious thoughts arose. He must have been tempted many times; had he never given in even once? Not even once? Just a little?
As Hermia turned back toward her room, she found herself unexpectedly deep in thought.
Among men, there are those who prefer women with mature charm; what about Walter?
Her father was a typical example of someone who only fell for older women. For reference, her biological mother was two years older than Count Arnold, and Lady Olivia was five years older than him.
Setting aside her father’s consistent taste in strange matters, as she entered the bathroom and began removing her clothes casually, she continued her thoughts.
According to Irene, among nobles, upper-class individuals often enjoyed secret meetings with ballerinas or opera singers. It was easy to approach them under the guise of being a fan, and many witty individuals with knowledge and culture made for good conversation partners.
“Could it be that the Duke…?”
Imagining Walter presenting flowers to another woman made her grip on the soap tighten suddenly.
Imagining him kissing the hand of a languidly smiling woman and saying in his characteristic polite tone “I’m your fan” made her teeth clench together.
As her imagination extended to scenes of him passionately embracing a woman behind the empty stage curtains after a performance…
“That’s ridiculous!”
It felt suffocating as if she had stuffed dry bread down her throat. She buried both hands into her hair in frustration.
What did it matter where Walter rolled around with someone else when she had already decided to run away!
It was absurd that she was getting angry at herself for imagining such things alone.
What am I doing? I only liked his face and body. What am I trying to achieve? This is just ridiculous.
Despite thinking this way, meaningless curses slipped out between her lips.
“Damn it. What’s so funny? It’s not funny at all…”
Because she hadn’t turned off the faucet in time, water overflowed outside the bathtub. When she lowered her head, water flowed along the tiles and reached her feet.
How did it rise so much? No matter when it happened, one thing was certain: this was going to be trouble.
To erase her frustration, Hermia scrubbed her hair until it felt like all of it might come out and rubbed the sponge against her skin until it felt raw.
After finishing what felt like a war of a bath and stepping out tiredly, there was commotion downstairs. From the banging sounds, it seemed repairmen had arrived.
While choosing clothes in the dressing room, she gave up on anything uncomfortable for herself and picked out a chiffon dress that wrapped around like a robe with ties at the waist.
She chose it purely for convenience; it wasn’t because it resembled the shower robe she had given to Walter.
“Hmm.”
A sense of regret lingered over the hairstyle. If only Andy or Lucy were here, they would have swapped towels and squeezed the water out of her hair, but alone, she lacked the strength and time to do so.
With no other choice, she stepped out of the room with her wet hair draped under one shoulder. The scene before her inevitably reminded her of the moment she first met Walter beneath the railing.
Hermia found herself dazed once again.
Walter, dressed in a uniform and looking impeccable, was a stark contrast to how he appeared now. Though it was the same person, Hermia felt differently than she did at that time.
He wore a gown of soft blue with a subtle sheen, crossing his arms while directing people around him. When he looked up and their eyes met—his olive-green gaze felt as if it could pull her in—something inside her crumbled.
As Walter moved towards the stairs, Hermia descended step by step while keeping her gaze locked with his.
When she took his outstretched hand two steps down, her heart began to race wildly. This was undoubtedly an unexpected tragedy that had not been part of her plans.
Walter’s gaze shifted from her eyes to her shoulder.
“Your hair is still damp.”
“…So is yours, Your Grace.”
A humid breeze blew through the open door, sweeping away everything around them and leaving only herself and him in the world.
Just as Hermia raised her hand to touch Walter’s bangs…
“Should we make the handle decoration just like the original?”
“Yes!”
The two of them, unable to tear their eyes away from each other, turned their heads simultaneously at the response. The worker holding the broken handle flinched and hesitated to step back.
Thanks to the interruption, the world around them came back into focus. Walter let out a quiet sigh, then stepped as if to shield Hermia and led her toward the kitchen.
—
The two stood in silence for a while as they looked at the food laid out on the kitchen counter.
The items brought by code name “Eagle” were ordinary but in quantities that were anything but ordinary. It was far more than one person could carry alone.
There were five baskets full of eggs, a large piece of raw meat whose origin was unidentifiable, a loaf of bread as big as a human head, chunks of cheddar and blue cheese emitting smells from afar, and heaps of vegetables and fruits as if they had just been harvested from a field.
Additionally, various bags of flour were scattered on the floor. They already had flour at home.
“We could invite the entire capital to a feast.”
“……”
Feeling overwhelmed rather than motivated, Hermia opened the pantry door and retrieved some leftover scones.
“Let’s just use these. They might be a bit hard now, but they should be fine with hot tea.”
“Do you perhaps like soufflé?”
Walter rolled up the sleeves of his robe as he asked. When Hermia blinked and repeated, “Soufflé?” he corrected himself.
“I meant pancakes. Do you like them?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll make that.”
Hermia sat on a stool watching Walter start to prepare something. She was already fond of how he washed his hands before cooking.
He took several eggs and skillfully separated the whites from the yolks before whipping them up.
Hermia rested her chin on her hand and admired Walter’s muscular arms. She deeply understood why maids at the duke’s residence carried binoculars.
“This is fun.”
At her unexpected comment, Walter looked up. She casually changed the subject.
“When did you learn to cook? Do you cook often, Your Grace?”
Walter smiled faintly as he added sugar to the puffing egg whites.
“I learned a few things when I was young. Not by choice; it was Melissa who…”
Melissa. Along with her name, his smile faded away.
He continued speaking in an even tone as if trying not to acknowledge it.
“She wanted to know if I could make soufflé because it tasted good when served as a snack. So I learned it and picked up a few things.”
“……”
Hermia nodded silently with a smile on her face, afraid of what she might say if she opened her mouth. She hoped it looked genuine enough.
She felt grateful that he shared memories of Melissa without holding back. It made his claim that they grew up like siblings without romantic feelings feel even more sincere.
Compared to such a man, she felt like a coward.
A coward who thinks about running away for fear of being abandoned if her feelings change.
She truly didn’t know what to do. Why did this man appear in her life and shake everything about her?
And why was she swept away into such turmoil?
