Chapter 74
* * *
“Oh my, how cute.”
“…”
“Look at this one, my lady.”
Squeak.
Clara carefully picked up a plush toy from the floor.
Each time she pressed its chest, the squeak rang through the quiet room.
“It’s hard to imagine His Grace playing with something like this. Isn’t it?”
Clara chattered, watching Lucy’s mood, but Lucy was busy looking around.
“So this is…”
“Yes. The room His Grace used when he was young.”
Just before.
“A favor?”
“You said His Grace lived here as a child. Can you show me the room?”
“But my lady. You should treat where you were pricked…”
“It’s really fine. More than that, I want to know how His Grace lived.”
“…”
“I suddenly want to see it. What do you say?”
Lucy pressed, and Clara, though flustered, began to guide her.
When they left the room, Gorgo, who should have been at the door, was gone.
But the unease from that vanished. The room she’d seen earlier filled her with a far bigger unease.
And so, with that strange tension, she’d arrived here.
A room just as grand and gleaming as the one where she’d found the duchess’s hair.
The room Edward had lived in.
‘This is…’
This looked far more fitting for the boy who would one day be duke.
The furniture was fine, clearly made by skilled hands.
The toy box was full of expensive toys set with magic stones. Through the wide terrace windows, a courtyard stretched out where children could run.
A room worthy of a little duke, no matter who looked.
“Oh my! Look at this too!”
And the wardrobe Clara opened was hung with beautiful clothes of fine quality.
Bright, splendid clothes that a young Edward would have worn.
“The duke in something like this… that’s so…”
“…Cute.”
Lucy answered before she knew it.
Little dress suits with shorts. A small formal suit with a golden bow tie. Fine pajamas.
Things a young Edward would have looked so good in.
It wasn’t hard to imagine them on a golden-haired boy.
As she looked through the clothes, her mind played a scene: Edward, endless, trying on outfit after outfit. “No.” “Not this one.” “Were your eyes on the floor?”
“Right? I’m sure they suited him so well.”
Lucy nodded at Clara’s words and tried to wipe away the image of that old, dingy room.
‘Yes. That’s right.’
Edward had lived in this room.
He’d acted high and mighty even then, a little tyrant running wild.
The thought was a comfort. And yet…
“But, Clara.”
“Yes?”
“You mentioned portraits earlier.”
“That’s right?”
“I don’t see them.”
“Pardon?”
Lucy looked around and added.
“I want to see the portraits from his childhood. To imagine him in these clothes better.”
“…”
“Where are they?”
“Th-That is…”
“Don’t tell me there aren’t any.”
“No! No! They must be here! I’ll find them!”
Clara hurried off, scanning the room.
Lucy let out a breath, then thought, wry.
‘I just want to be a little more sure.’
Just a little. A very, very little more sure.
Proof that young Edward had been happy here.
A childhood portrait could be that proof.
She didn’t need to confirm his happiness. And yet, she wanted to.
‘It has to be that he was raised spoiled and adored.’
He had to have grown up with a full belly and a warm bed, wanting for nothing.
A man who had everything he wanted, who tossed people around as he pleased.
And yet he spoke like he’d scare you, while quietly looking after you. Feeding, housing, clothing, caring.
Wasn’t that the kind of thing only someone raised with love could do?
Through it all, she remembered the hand kneading her ankle.
“How can someone this weak keep doing purification?”
“I can do it. Don’t you trust me?”
“No.”
“…”
“You expect me to trust a purifier who twists her ankle running laps?”
A few days ago.
She’d twisted her ankle on the training grounds, and Edward had wrapped her ankle in his hands, saying he’d check how bad it was.
His hands had been warm, and careful.
As if the slightest force would break her.
Now that she thought of it, Edward was always like that.
A man who seemed like he’d toss you aside the moment you got in his way.
But his words were mean while his hands were gentle, and he’d even stopped to rest on the way to the territory, thinking of her weak body.
What’s more, since coming to the territory, she hadn’t needed to fawn at all.
He made sure she ate, gave her a fine room, and let her use the grand bath attached to his chambers.
And that wasn’t all.
‘Now we’re even marrying.’
Of course, it was a marriage both of them wanted for their own reasons.
A marriage that made full use of Lucy’s purifying power.
She didn’t think Edward was sacrificing himself for her, or that she owed him some great debt.
But the way he’d pulled her close before the priest, the warmth of his hand over her belly, came back again.
“If my darling says no, then no.”
“Isn’t that right, darling?”
The way he’d smiled and called her by the same name she’d used.
Lucy pressed down on her red ears, flustered.
And she was a little surprised to find how much she liked Edward.
‘…Could this be Stockholm syndrome?’
Maybe she’d been tamed by Edward’s whims and moods without knowing, and now she took his side by instinct.
Maybe she was too grateful for kindnesses he didn’t even think much of.
‘Still…’
Still, no child should grow up in a place like that.
So she just wanted to be a little more sure.
Lucy drew a deep breath, restless.
Clara, who’d been searching the room for the portrait, came back empty-handed.
Then she smiled in a hurry, before Lucy could speak.
“Strange. I don’t come here often, so… I can’t find it.”
“So, there isn’t one?”
“No! It has to be here somewhere… maybe it’s hung in another room.”
“I see. Then show me that other room.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Clara answered readily and stepped out, glancing around.
“Clara?”
She seemed to be stalling, looking somewhere.
“Pathetic thing!”
Smack!
From nearby came an unexpected shout and the hard sound of something striking.
A sharp, middle-aged woman’s voice.
‘Someone else is in this building?’
Lucy’s eyes went wide at the sudden voice.
A hollow-sounding voice followed.
“I’m sorry.”
“How could you manage things so badly that it goes missing!”
“It’s all my fault, Grand Madam.”
‘Grand Madam.’
The moment she heard the title, her head, so full of Edward, went cold at once.
Erica
What is that supposed to be the âtrapâ? To accuse her of stealing some jewlery? She hasnât even left yetâĻ. All she would have to do is show that she has nothing on her and it would clearly not be found? Unless of coarse Clara planted it on her. Honestly, I donât know why Lucy is even allowing Clara in her orbit at all, it makes no sense. Also, the fact that she didnât INSIST the other maid stayed with her at all times