The End of the Special Contract Romance (2)
“Thank you, Iris.”
Marquis Hugo said to his eldest daughter, seated across from him. Iris, who had been neatly organizing the documents, offered him a modest smile.
The marquis, who had married in his early twenties, was now only in his mid-forties, but he suffered from one chronic affliction. In his vigorous youth, he had badly injured his right hand, leaving his wrist and finger joints in poor condition.
Lately, it had worsened to the point where even handling paperwork felt grueling, so he had begun relying on Iris for help.
“It’s not just that your assistance has made things more meticulous and thorough— you’ve even caught and resolved our oversights, becoming an invaluable support.”
“No, Father.”
“How is it that our daughter can do no wrong? Ha ha ha! I’m utterly delighted to have discovered this new talent of yours.”
In truth, the marquis had harbored no great expectations at first when he entrusted tasks to Iris. After all, she hadn’t received any formal training as an heir, nor had she studied anything related to estate management.
He would have been grateful if she’d simply carried out his instructions competently, but to his astonishment, Iris had exceeded that by far. Quick with her hands and her calculations, she had spotted and seamlessly filled in the gaps that even the marquis and his retainers had overlooked.
It was no exaggeration that even the retainers remarked how working with her was faster and more convenient than dealing with the marquis himself.
“I could hand the family over to you and step back without a worry in the world—it feels that solid.”
The marquis said it with a pleased smile, blending jest with sincerity. A faint blush colored Iris’s cheeks.
It was the first time she had heard such praise from her parents. She had always been lauded as the precocious and wise eldest daughter, but being recognized for her actual abilities felt entirely different.
She could almost understand now why her younger sibling had burned with such fierce determination to become the master of the mage tower. There was an exhilarating thrill, a pure rush of elation, in being acknowledged for who she truly was.
“Starting next week, I plan to entrust you with the ledgers as well. I’ll count on you going forward, Iris.”
Access to the ledgers was a privilege reserved solely for the family head, so this was his way of sharing that authority. Iris’s eyes sparkled with sharp intelligence and vibrant energy.
“Yes, Father. You can trust me with it.”
She replied calmly, her lips curving into a subtle smile. Yet beneath that composure, her heart fluttered uncontrollably at the realization that she was being valued not as a daughter, a noble lady, or someone’s future wife, but as a true aide to Marquis Hugo.
It wasn’t merely that she had been born into the marquisate and thus become one of its people by default; it was the sensation of earning her place as a vital member through her own efforts. Her pulse raced with an excitement that embroidery lessons could never hope to match, a thrilling anticipation that set her entire being alight.
Having wrapped up the day’s work without a single mistake, Iris left her father’s study and stepped into the corridor, a light tune humming softly on her lips as she walked.
‘Have I ever felt this alive, this exhilarated in my life? I could live like this forever.’
The more she dwelled on that thought, the more she questioned whether someone with the clear ability to serve the family truly needed to choose marriage—an institution that felt so utterly superfluous.
Wasn’t it far better to contribute to her own house as one of its own, rather than becoming the lady of some stranger’s household?
‘The title will pass to Adrian anyway, but beyond the role of family head, there are plenty of positions within the marquisate. I could certainly handle one of them.
That way, I could even share my brother’s burdens—a win-win, all around.’
The only uncertainty was whether anyone would ever agree with these private musings of hers…
‘Ah, Viscount Roberts.’
Eric’s face suddenly flickered into her mind. In a way, he was the one who knew her inner thoughts best, the only person who had ever truly taken her side.
Eric might just understand—might even empathize with—her perspective. There was something oddly reassuring about him, a comfort that made her feel she could share anything without reservation.
Since when had she come to regard him as a close friend, someone she could hold so dear?
With the approaching weekend stirring an unexpected eagerness for their meeting at the botanical gardens, Iris quickened her steps just a little.
* * *
There was one crucial precaution for botanists visiting the gardens: resist the urge to get so absorbed in the plants that you prattle on endlessly, oblivious to those around you.
Especially today, when he had come not to indulge his own passions but to lift the spirits of the rather downcast Iris. To avoid dominating the conversation with his own chatter, Eric paid extra heed.
Dressed in a soft gray uniform that suited his refined and tidy appearance, he arrived at the garden entrance. Moments later, Iris appeared in a mint-green chiffon dress, her hair neatly braided into a single plait.
“Lady Hugo, you’ve arrived?”
“Yes—and I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long, Viscount?”
“Of course not. You’re right on time, so no need to worry.”
Eric flashed a bright smile and offered his arm. Iris rested her hand lightly upon it.
The gardens were crowded, as they often were on weekends. When a passing man jostled her shoulder, sending her stumbling slightly, Iris winced with a small grimace. Catching the flicker of it from the corner of his eye, Eric wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her gently closer to his side.
“If it’s not too forward of me, may I shield you like this? If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll step back at once.”
“Hm? Oh… yes. It’s fine.”
Iris replied a touch shyly. Truth be told, it felt more secure than a hasty linking of arms—Eric’s steady hold warding off any further brushes with strangers.
Before they knew it, the two were strolling along as intimately as a devoted couple, pressed close together. At first, it had made her acutely self-conscious, but as they immersed themselves in the sights of the gardens, the closeness began to feel natural.
“Wow, what kind of flower is this? The color is so unique and elegant.”
“That’s a chocolate cosmos. If you lean in and smell it, you’ll catch a genuine chocolate scent.”
“Really?”
Iris bent down, pressing her nose to the flower’s petals, which deepened from pale to a rich, dark red toward the center. Sure enough, a subtle aroma of chocolate wafted up.
Eric watched her, a faint smile playing on his lips, as she examined the bloom with eyes alight in wonder. In his line of sight drifted a long strand of her brown hair, trailing loosely down.
Hmm, she looks a bit bothered by it—perhaps I should tuck it back for her.
