Chapter 40
“Am I seeing things because I’m too tired?”
Agnes rubbed her stiff, dry eyes.
Yet, as if to prove it was no afterimage, Lionel was still standing there.
“I sent you to work, not to put on makeup.”
Saying something cryptic, Lionel reached out.
A large shadow suddenly fell over Agnes’s head.
In that instant, Agnes instinctively shrank back.
Noticing the brief tension, Lionel’s fingertips paused in midair before moving again.
Lionel gently rubbed the area around Agnes’s eyes with his index finger.
Though it was a rough hand scarred from many wounds, the touch itself was delicate.
“Didn’t I tell you to maintain the dignity of a duchess?”
Black ink had transferred to his fingertip.
Only then did Agnes realize she had rubbed her eyes with ink-stained hands.
Her face flushed in an instant.
“Ah…! Why is this…?”
Flustered, Agnes tried to wipe her face with her sleeve.
Then, remembering Lionel’s earlier reprimand about dignity, she pulled out a handkerchief instead.
Even after only a few dabs, the ivory handkerchief was soiled.
It seemed quite a lot had smeared on.
Thinking she had made a ridiculous sight of herself, Agnes’s skin burned red.
She thought she heard a brief laugh from above her head—though of course she must have imagined it.
“Get in.”
Lionel had already opened the carriage door.
Unlike moments ago, Agnes surrendered herself to Lionel’s touch without fear.
Seated in the carriage and smoothing her clothes, Agnes timidly voiced her puzzlement.
“I thought Sir Kalt would come.”
“He’s busy.”
At that curt reply, Agnes tilted her head.
If the adjutant was busy, wasn’t it only natural that Lionel would be even busier?
The words somehow didn’t add up.
“Could he have come on purpose because of me?”
A small, round bubble of expectation swelled in her heart, like a balloon filling with air.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. He’s probably just checking whether I’ve found anything.”
Or perhaps he simply stopped by while passing through.
Agnes shook her head to keep from getting carried away.
Meanwhile, the steadily moving carriage did not head straight to the mansion but turned into the city district.
It stopped in front of a luxurious restaurant.
It was a place Agnes knew well.
She had often read articles mentioning that high-ranking officials frequented it because each table was partitioned.
“We’ll have dinner here tonight.”
As she stared wide-eyed at the restaurant that had never had any connection to her, Lionel pushed open the carriage door and spoke.
“But we already had this week’s meal…?”
Their once-a-week dining appointment had ended just a few days earlier.
So when she questioned him with confusion, Lionel raised an eyebrow.
“I have business in the north, so I won’t be able to return to the mansion for several weeks.”
He explained that he wished to have next week’s meal in advance.
Lionel grasped the handle of Agnes’s wheelchair as though it were the most natural thing.
The motion was so fluid.
Only after being seated at their guided table did Agnes realize that Lionel had escorted her.
Perhaps he had ordered ahead—the food was served promptly.
“Meat again.”
Agnes gazed at the steak with its proudly red center.
Whenever she dined with Lionel, rich, fatty meat was always on the table.
For Agnes, who had not eaten regular meals for so long, the heavy dish was rather burdensome on her weakened stomach.
Of course, Lionel had no way of knowing that.
After tasting only a few bites, Agnes quietly set down her fork.
“Any useful information?”
“I haven’t found anything significant yet. But, as I mentioned before, there are discrepancies in the ledger—transaction volumes and amounts that don’t match. If I investigate those, I think something useful will emerge.”
“I see.”
Lionel glanced briefly at Agnes’s plate before continuing his meal.
“Since I’ve received information, I should pay for it. Have you decided on the compensation you said you’d consider instead of the guild master position?”
“Huh?”
Agnes hesitated, fidgeting with her fork handle.
She hadn’t yet provided anything concrete—in fact, she had barely done anything—so compensation felt unwarranted.
“That… I’ll decide later, when I find more definite information…”
“Tell me now. I’m not idle enough to wait just to hear something like that.”
Pressed by Lionel, Agnes furrowed her brow.
Accepting payment at this stage pricked her conscience, yet refusing would only trouble him.
In that case, asking for something modestly bold might be the better option.
Her eyes fell on the bright yellow chrysanthemums blooming in the vase at the center of the table.
Unconsciously, Agnes traced the coaster with her fingertip.
“Then… would you occasionally accompany me on walks in the garden?”
Lionel paused his knife and looked up.
“…Walks?”
“It doesn’t have to be often. Just when Your Grace has time—once or twice a month would be enough. Is that… not acceptable?”
“Walks after meals.”
Confusion threaded through Lionel’s low murmur.
He had expected her to finally ask for something substantial.
Yet again, all she wanted was something this small.
“As compensation, it’s far too light.”
Agnes, who couldn’t even calculate properly, ought to seem pathetic.
Yet somehow the lump in his throat grew heavier.
It was while Lionel, frowning, swallowed a sip of water.
Voices from the adjacent table carried over the partition.
They were so loud that she could make out every word without effort.
“Did you hear? Goodness, the duchess has started handling the affairs of the Bardo Trading Company.”
“Since her life as a dancer is over, I suppose she’s trying her hand at business? The Bardo guild master really is too kind. Even if she’s his daughter, entrusting work to someone like her…”
“I’ve heard they’re running deficits lately—won’t it go bankrupt soon? Who knows how much more luxury she’ll indulge in with company funds. Goodness.”
Hohoho. Laughter cloaked in refinement drifted over the partition and settled on the tablecloth.
Lionel calmly set down his water glass.
“Is it unpleasant to hear?”
“It’s hardly the first or second time.”
Agnes tried to maintain as serene an expression as possible.
Yet her wounded heart still stung sharply.
“If it bothers you, say so. I can ensure they never speak such nonsense again.”
He likely hadn’t meant it that way, yet Lionel’s words felt like he was taking her side.
Thanks to that, Agnes’s mood lightened considerably.
So without thinking, she spoke more freely.
“Like you did with Miss Floris?”
“Why bring up that name here?”
“I heard it from Simon. That you got angry on my behalf at Miss Floris for speaking ill of me.”
Lionel’s thick brows arched sharply.
“I’d prefer you not misunderstand. It wasn’t for your sake.”
“I know. Both then and now—you step in because slandering me is tantamount to slandering the Valheim family. Right?”
On any other occasion, that expression of his would have frightened her, but now she somehow felt certain he wouldn’t get angry.
So Agnes cautiously revealed her true feelings.
“Still, it’s the first time someone has taken my side, so I’m glad.”
With that, Agnes lowered her gaze and stared only at her plate.
She lacked the courage to see what reaction her honest words might provoke in Lionel.
They finished the meal halfheartedly and left the restaurant as the sky turned crimson.
Agnes paused briefly in front of the restaurant and looked at the flower shop right beside it.
The vivid colors in the display window drew her eye.
Momentarily distracted, Agnes glanced around as she prepared to board the carriage.
He had definitely been beside her when they left the restaurant, yet now Lionel was nowhere in sight.
Just as she wondered whether to go look for him, Lionel reappeared—holding a bouquet.
It was a modest bouquet of several yellow chrysanthemums tied with a ribbon.
“Walks won’t be possible until next month at the earliest, so consider this in place of this month’s compensation.”
His tone was calculating and dry.
Yet the bouquet in his large hand suited him so poorly that Agnes couldn’t stop smiling.
Brushing the bouquet she had received so unexpectedly, she felt the soft texture of the petals.
So this is how it feels.
Flowers seen up close. Flowers received from someone.
The weight conveyed to her fingertips was strangely warm, and in the end Agnes couldn’t hold back—she gently curved her eyes.
She thought she might have even laughed aloud, haha.
“Why… are you smiling?”
Lionel’s expression turned oddly subtle, as if witnessing something bizarre.
Yet even that was welcome, and Agnes lifted the corners of her mouth wide.
“Because the flowers are pretty.”
“…Foolish.”
Lionel absentmindedly toyed with his own index finger.
A faint ink stain still lingered there.
Like a coin-sized blot spreading through water, it was somehow seeping through his entire body.
Unbeknownst even to himself, Lionel thought:
It wouldn’t be bad to see Ahnes smile like that a little more often.
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