Chapter 6: Morning After the Storm
Chapter 6: Morning After the Storm
“……”
In the room now void of all but Brittany and the man, she desperately tried to minimize the amount of her body exposed, adjusting the deep neckline of her nightdress.
The man had been holding papers when she entered, but now they were set aside as he lit a cigar from a candle on the table beside the sofa and placed it between his lips.
“Do you have something you’d like to say?”
His voice was low and languid, and he didn’t bother looking at her.
He had returned to reading the documents he had momentarily put aside to light his cigar.
Brittany cast a quick glance at him as she stood glued to the wall, then took a tentative half-step forward when he spoke—only to retreat two full steps, pressing her back to the wall again like a broken wind-up doll.
The man inhaled the cigar and released a cloud of smoke, its thick trail hanging in the air like a misty veil, separating them with a mysterious barrier.
“No, I don’t have anything to say,” Brittany answered curtly, her breath short. The sharp smoke stung her eyes and triggered a dry, persistent cough.
“Then why did you come to my room?”
“Because I was directed here.”
She struggled to stifle her cough and cleared her throat.
Her gaze dropped from his prominent Adam’s apple to the hand holding the cigar, where veins stood out starkly despite his relaxed posture.
Something about the sight made her tense up. Swallowing hard, she gathered her strength, then swiftly raised her hands to cover the exposed part of her chest.
She felt faint. Just then, Klein, who had been engrossed in his papers, raised his gaze and tilted his head to study her—trembling with fear, pale as parchment, endlessly fiddling with her clothes.
Her movements were erratic.
She wore a revealing nightgown she had no desire to be in, her hands unable to stay still as she continued to shield herself.
As he puffed on the cigar with disinterest, Klein suddenly seemed to grasp the reason Mary had brought the girl here. He rubbed his brow with the same hand holding the cigar.
“It seems there’s been a misunderstanding. Allow me to clarify.”
He tapped off the ash from his cigar and continued,
“I’m not interested in your body.”
“Then why did you bring me—”
She wanted to ask but stopped, afraid of what the answer might be.
“I suggest you find an empty room and rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”
“……”
Brittany exhaled quietly.
Some color returned to her pale cheeks.
A wave of relief washed over her—she wouldn’t have to spend the night with him. But a new worry arose.
She wished he would tell her plainly which room she was to go to.
But he seemed to have already dismissed her presence, not sparing her another glance, continuing to smoke and flip through his papers.
She remained there, suppressing her cough as best she could, waiting until the cigar had burned down entirely for another opportunity to speak.
“If you have no intention of sleeping with me, then please leave the room.”
He said this abruptly as he extinguished the last embers of his cigar, eyes still locked on his papers.
Startled, Brittany quickly opened the door.
As soon as she stepped into the hallway, her eyes met Mary’s, who had been standing nearby.
‘If I had known she was outside, I would’ve left sooner…’
Avoiding Mary’s questioning gaze, Brittany said,
“He told me to go to an empty room. Can you show me where that is?”
Mary nodded and led the way, eyeing Brittany’s flushed cheeks. She began to wonder if the pastel pink nightdress she had bought would suit Brittany better next time. She seemed determined to try again.
Sunlight filtered through the window slats, caressing Brittany’s cheeks.
The warm rays mixed with birdsong in the early summer morning, creating a scene full of gentle cheer.
Brittany slowly opened her eyes beneath the soft down covers.
At first, her vision was blurry. Gradually, it cleared, revealing unfamiliar furniture that made her feel like she was still dreaming.
She sat up on the edge of the bed, staring blankly into space.
The bed was soft and comfortable, but her sleep had been restless—her eyelids heavy.
Though it was merely a guest room, it was twice the size of the one she was used to.
A clean, unblemished duvet made of duck feathers, A light green rug embroidered with golden threads, Vintage furniture that met all practical needs, A wall-mounted fireplace to shield against winter cold, And a grand chandelier adorned with gemstones so heavy it looked as if it might fall…
The opulence didn’t comfort Brittany. Instead, it made her nervous. She would have slept better in a shabby old barn and woken lighter in spirit.
Ever since the man said he would take her in as payment for her father’s debt, she had pondered his true intention—without any clear answer. It felt as though she were awaiting judgment without a set date.
Yet at the same time, she didn’t want to know why.
She only hoped he would forget about her. That shameful hope was the only realistic wish she could cling to.
As she prayed for this, a gentle yet distinct knock echoed at the door, sending her heart plummeting like a stone.
Was it Klein de Windsor?
‘Dear God, did he hear the ungrateful thoughts I just had?’
A cold crawl ran down her neck like a spider’s legs, making it hard to respond. A second knock followed.
Snapping out of her daze, Brittany tried to respond—only to realize she was still wearing the same clothes Mary had dressed her in the night before. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a beige shawl to cover her shoulders before finally answering,
“Come in.”
“You were coughing!”
Before she could finish her annoyed greeting, the door swung open to reveal Mary, entering cheerfully—not the person Brittany had feared.
She was dressed just as she had been the day before, her orange braids intact.
“Did you sleep well?”
“I… did.”
Physically, there had been no discomfort. Everything was far too comfortable, which was, in itself, unsettling.
Mary began tidying the messy bed.
Brittany hesitated, wanting to help, but Mary’s swift efficiency left her with no room to assist.
Once finished, Mary turned to Brittany with a gentle smile.
“We met yesterday, but let me introduce myself properly. I’m Mary, and I’m here to serve you. It’s an honor.”
“I’m Brittany de Riven. I… I’m pleased to meet you.”
“Please speak comfortably, Miss.”
“Miss?”
Brittany clutched her fingers nervously and bit her lower lip.
That title wasn’t meant for her. She had never been treated as a ‘Miss.’ It was more than she deserved.
Despite being a count’s daughter, she had never received respect. Her treatment had been worse than that of commoners.
She hadn’t even had a debutante ball like other nobles, nor mingled in high society.
That word—‘Miss’—didn’t suit her.
The reason she was here was her father’s debt. Without doubt, her standing was beneath even the servants.
A girl sold to repay a debt.
Remembering her status, Brittany lowered her gaze in silence.
“I brought breakfast.”
At that moment, Mary wheeled in a cart and set a plate on the table. Brittany hesitated, then sat at the edge of a wooden chair.
One dish held a warm tomato-lentil soup, while the other was a slow-braised chicken stew in red wine—coq au vin.
Steam rose from the dishes, releasing mouthwatering aromas.
Beside the plate lay neatly sliced baguette, fragrant and inviting.
Brittany glanced at Mary from the corner of her eye before picking up her utensils and dipping bread into the soup.
She then served herself some of the coq au vin into a blue-and-silver dish adorned with rose patterns and took a careful bite.
The tender flavors melted in her mouth, easing a sliver of the anxiety within her.
After what felt like ages since her last proper meal, she realized her plate was empty.
Ashamed of how quickly she had eaten, she dabbed her lips with a napkin and glanced at Mary’s reaction. Mary simply smiled and brought over a pitcher of water and a fresh towel.
As Brittany washed her face, Mary opened the window for fresh air and returned.
“Let me help you get ready.”
Brittany wanted to refuse, but remembered Mary’s words from the day before and nodded silently.
Mary seated her at the vanity, brushed her tangled hair with care, and tied it neatly at the back.
She chose a pale blue dress with short sleeves that reached the ankles—one of Brittany’s less worn pieces.
In front of the large mirror, Mary tied the dress’s sash into a bow with precision.
Brittany stared at her reflection.
Though her outfit was simple and faded, her neatly styled hair gave her a fresh look.
For the first time, she felt pleased with her appearance.
This tidy, elegant image was what she had always dreamed of.
She had never desired luxury—only to appear clean and put together.
But no matter how she had tried to fix her hair, it was futile. Count Riven had threatened to disfigure her face, and beat her mercilessly.
Hair in constant tangles, swollen cheeks, wounds on her body. She had long avoided mirrors.
But today…
“You’re so pretty, you can’t even meet your own gaze, huh?”
Mary’s cheerful voice rang beside her as Brittany stared at the mirror.
“No, that’s not it…”
She had never thought that way. Her neat appearance had merely caught her attention.
Brittany turned away from the mirror, her cheeks flushed.
For Mary, who was assigned to serve her, perhaps the thought was improper—but she found Brittany’s blush utterly charming.
At that moment, the sound of a carriage came from the open window, drawing both of their gazes toward it.
