Chapter 5
Chapter 5
“Still, isn’t younger better?”
Lydia said, brushing Kashika’s hair. It would end up tangled again by morning, but long hair was impossible to manage if not brushed regularly. Lydia loved brushing Kashika’s hair. She said she liked the thick brunette waves with a slight curl.
Lydia had first come to work in Ramfley at sixteen. Now she was twenty-five. Lucy didn’t approve of how close they were, but Kashika thought of Lydia as something like a younger sister. More so than that César Elpertz II fellow. Though technically, he was her uncle, so that comparison didn’t really hold.
Of course, even if she treated Lydia like a younger sister, that didn’t mean there was no sense of hierarchy. Occasionally, Lydia said things that crossed the line, and Kashika let it go. Only occasionally. Lucy didn’t seem to like even that.
“Why is younger better?”
“The late marquess was nearly fifty years older, wasn’t he? Compared to that, even if he’s just a viscount now, Lord Lambroiche is a much better deal.”
“He’s not ‘just’ a viscount…”
Kashika corrected.
“The sons of counts usually receive the title of viscount. They assist with family duties and… no, never mind. You’re right. A younger man is better.”
The problem was, she didn’t even know what an old man’s touch was like. The social scene—though she’d never experienced it—was often called a kingdom of beasts. Indulgence, gloom, decadence, luxury, rage, emptiness, and betrayal. All the stories she’d heard about society made it sound like a polished dish made from those very ingredients.
It was a frightening world to enter with an untouched body like hers.
“But still, he’s too young.”
“He’s twenty-five, isn’t he? That’s about my age.”
Huh? Is that how it works? Lydia said it so casually that it made Noah seem less young somehow. But to Kashika, his image was still stuck at ten years old. It was more a perception than a memory. In truth, she couldn’t even picture it clearly anymore.
“You’ve done your duty, Madam. You should enjoy life now. And I’d like to meet the new staff he’ll be bringing along.”
“Who said anyone’s coming?”
“Isn’t Lord Lambroiche coming here?”
“There’s no way.”
Kashika replied. Sure, spending holidays with a lover wasn’t unheard of—but that was only during actual holidays. She knew full well that Noah hadn’t come to enjoy the rustic life here with her.
“If I agree to be his lover, I’ll probably have to go to the capital.”
“The capital?”
Lydia’s eyes lit up.
“That’s even better! I haven’t been in nearly ten years! You’ll take me with you, right?”
“…”
She hadn’t even said she’d accept being his lover yet.
Before she realized it, the image of Noah Lambroiche as a viscount had faded in her mind. Instead, it was the boy Noah who came to mind. His face was vague. It shouldn’t have been—he hadn’t had the kind of face one easily forgets—but somehow he’d drifted completely out of her interest. What lingered more vividly was the number: 2.8 million gold.
Ten-year-old Noah Lambroiche, threatening her to repay 2.8 million gold.
“This is a mess.”
“What’s so messy about it? Just go.”
Lydia said as she put down the brush. Finally, the long brushing session was over.
Honestly, Kashika missed the capital, too.
After spending so many years doing absolutely nothing in the provinces, she’d begun to feel like she was wasting her time. She hadn’t had money to dress herself up, but there was a time when she’d observed every fashion trend in the capital with her own eyes.
Did she want to see it all again? Of course she did.
The galleries, the museums, the imported curiosities from far-off lands—she wanted to see them all again. What sort of clothing was in fashion these days? Did they still favor large bustles? What about hats? Was big hair still a thing? Surely no one was still powdering their hair white? Kashika, whose hair was nearly black, had always hated that practice.
The capital.
Yes, she wanted to go. She really did.
But whether she should go… that, she wasn’t so sure about.
* * *
Still alive and back again, huh.
Kashika looked at Noah’s smiling face with a cold gaze.
“Have you had some time to think about it?”
You could’ve at least given me enough time to think. But instead of saying that out loud, Kashika simply raised her wine glass.
“Would you like a drink? It’s Bevelen wine. I got it as a gift a while ago, but I kept it in the cellar, and it’s aged beautifully—tastes even better now.”
Noah’s gaze shifted to the wine-filled glass. But he didn’t take a single sip. Instead, with an expression that suggested such courtesy was a waste of time, he said, “Please give me your answer, Madam.”
“…”
He seemed pressed.
Unlike what she’d expected—that he’d send a letter to ask her thoughts—Noah had returned to the estate only a few days later. It seemed he hadn’t gone back to the capital but had been staying in a nearby town.
“I have given it some thought,” Kashika said.
Being someone’s lover, in the end, also meant becoming a companion in society.
“There’s a problem. If I’m to be a lover who doesn’t disgrace your reputation, I’ll need a decent amount of money to maintain appearances. As you can see, things aren’t in the best shape here.”
“It certainly appears that way. But don’t worry about that. You just need to come with me.”
Was he trying to saddle her with even more debt? Surely, there were countless women in better condition than her—why come all the way out to this remote countryside for this? Kashika could never understand the minds of the rich. Was there some other motive? Could he want the land? It was near the border, but not terrible geographically.
But surely he wouldn’t stoop to robbing a widow in the provinces, not when he already had so much.
Kashika looked at Noah with suspicion. He met her gaze without the slightest discomfort. Annoyingly unfazed.
“And what happens if I refuse?”
Kashika asked. In society, promiscuity in women was practically a virtue. Spending nights with many men, hearing whispers from all corners, balancing a web of rumors like a tightrope.
“I hadn’t considered refusal.”
To be promiscuous, though, you had to lose your virginity first.
Nearly ten years had passed since Kashika’s marriage, but she had yet to lose what should’ve been lost as a wife. It couldn’t be helped. The fault lay with the husband who’d died the moment they met. Not that it was really a fault—but in this case, it was. Maybe she should’ve fooled around a little.
“And if I start considering it now?”
“I doubt that would be in your best interest.”
“Then I guess I have no choice but to accept.”
…Should I hire someone to take my virginity?
Would I be able to keep him quiet?
No—if he were still alive, there’d be no such thing as silence. Then I’d have to kill him?
And wouldn’t that be a terrible end for the poor man?
“Madam?”
Maybe someone near death? But I’d rather not have an old man. A first kiss with a wrinkled geezer was already enough, thank you.
“Madam.”
What a mess. A real mess.
She’d never intended to live a chaste life forever. She thought maybe, one day, if she met someone she liked—or even if she didn’t—she might lose her virginity under better circumstances. But to think she’d end up considering throwing it away so quickly, to just anyone.
“Lady Ramfley.”
If possible, she’d prefer someone good-looking. But the silence issue worried her. Would she really have to kill him?
“Teacher.”
“Huh?”
A strange and familiar title. It was the one he had called her the most. Kashika reacted instinctively, then gave him a startled, awkward expression.
“Oh… yes? Did you call me?”
Noah smiled. His face was gentler than before, far less forceful than the way he’d confronted her earlier. What’s with him? Kashika thought.
“Seems like you’re more used to being called ‘Teacher’ than ‘Madam.’”
“…”
“Have you taught anyone else since then? Though, as a marchioness, I suppose there was no need.”
“No. After coming here, I had no reason to take on that kind of work.”
Kashika replied. Noah’s expression darkened again. She didn’t understand why. She couldn’t guess what he was thinking. That had been true when he was younger, too—his face rarely showed emotion. Maybe that’s why his crying face had left such an impression. Even that was vague now—just the memory of him crying, nothing more.
“You weren’t often called ‘Madam,’ I take it?” Noah asked.
“Not really.”
Kashika answered. Lydia, Lucy, and Max had all called her Madam, but most of the time, people didn’t bother with titles since there was no one else to talk to but her.
“There’s no one else in this house.”
Kashika said. There were servants, sure, but nobles and servants were always clearly divided.
“I suppose you haven’t had many guests.”
“The marquessate has no surviving relatives.”
“No personal guests either?”
“I don’t have any family, either.”
Though she had only learned that a few days ago. Noah responded, “…Yes, that’s true,” as though he’d forgotten it was he who had told her. Now what? Kashika continued to wrestle with her thoughts while Noah, not caring in the slightest about her hesitation, kept talking.
“Seems you don’t have any close friends from society either.”
“I haven’t been involved in society.”
“Even if the marquessate lacked wealth, surely it was enough to gain entry.”
“I never cared for it.”
To begin with, entering society required several things. Money, certainly—but also connections. And experience. Most noblewomen had all three. Kashika had none.
“In that case…”
Noah said, looking at her face.
“It seems the only man to have claimed you was the late Marquess of Ramfley.”
“…”
Kashika fell silent.
