Chapter 41

Unaccustomed to the delicate art of sounding others out, Elwin faltered, a faint tremor betraying his voice. Yet despite his palpable tension, Dwight merely acquiesced, his features settling into a calm that bordered on utter indifference.

“Yes,” Dwight said. “However, since the patriarch remains living, I carry only a simplified seal intended for a proxy. Will that suffice?”

“O-Of course. Here.”

Dwight struck a match to the candle on the desk, liquefying the crimson sealing wax Elwin handed him and allowing it to pool near the foot of the parchment. Slipped from his finger, his signet ring sank into the softening wax, leaving the crisp imprint of the Graymont coat of arms: a black hawk perched upon a rugged cliff.

It was the exact heraldic crest Elwin remembered. Though the seal was somewhat small, it stood to reason that Dwight, as a second son, would carry a simplified proxy version. Moreover, the effortless, practiced grace with which he handled the legal document left no room for doubt.

Of course. There was no possible way.

Perhaps his suspicions had simply run wild. The striking, platinum-blond hair of the Graymont lineage was hardly a common trait, and Dwight’s features bore an undeniable resemblance to the Baron of Graymont whom Elwin had glimpsed years ago. Above all, that haughty, aristocratic air was not something easily counterfeited; at the very least, Dwight was clearly a nobleman bred to privilege.

“There,” Elwin murmured, shuffling the parchments with his most polite, deferential posture, eager to conceal his earlier distrust. His errand was complete, and he wished for nothing more than to retreat to the drawing room and sort through his racing thoughts. “That should do it. Then—”

“Sir Elwin.” Dwight slid the signet ring back onto his finger, raising an entirely unexpected proposal. “If you have no pressing matters, why don’t we take that stroll we missed yesterday?”

Believing he must have misheard, Elwin stared at him blankly. Dwight’s lips curved upward into a rare, deliberate smile.

“A walk through the gardens,” Dwight clarified. “You were kind enough to invite me yesterday, but I was too out of sorts to accompany you. Will you grant me another opportunity?”

Faced with a turn of events he had never anticipated, Elwin struggled to find his tongue. “Ah—yes. The weather is quite brisk, so I shall fetch my overcoat first.”

Still dazed, Elwin was making his way back to his chambers when he encountered Alfred in the hallway.

“Mr. Alfred,” Elwin said, pausing. “Could you bring my father’s seal to my room shortly? I have just secured Lord Dwight’s signature on the inheritance execution document as the baron’s proxy.”

The butler offered a respectful nod. “Certainly, young master. However, the formal seal was taken to Savar by the Count, and the only one remaining in the safe is the family head’s simplified seal. Will that be adequate?”

“Ah, I see. Since the one I have is also a proxy seal, I am unsure which would be most appropriate. Mr. Dale should be returning shortly… Let us hold off on sealing it for now. I need to consider this.”

Deciding he could delay the final sealing until the financial manager returned from Savar with the official crest, Elwin entered his bedchamber and reached for his coat. Toby, who was busy tidying the room, looked up immediately.

“Young master! Are you going out?”

“No,” Elwin replied, adjusting his collar. “Mr. Dwight has invited me for a walk in the garden.”

Toby froze, staring in sheer disbelief before bursting into a flurry of excitement. “Truly, young master? Lord Dwight must have quarreled with Miss Selena and finally recognized your true worth!”

“That is not what happened. Keep your voice down, Toby.”

“How could it be anything else? What secret strategy did you employ at the party yesterday to make such progress?”

Though Toby was practically bursting with joy, an uncomfortable weight settled in Elwin’s chest. Every action had a cause, or at the very least, a catalyst. Until yesterday, whenever Elwin invited him to walk, Dwight had looked at him as though he could not comprehend the request. Yet now, his attitude had shifted entirely. Something must have occurred in the interim.

While I was out in the garden…

At the sudden memory of what had transpired in the Finch gardens last night, a flush crept up Elwin’s neck, burning his cheeks. Toby, who was helping him drape the overcoat over his shoulders, caught the blush and giggled.

“My goodness! Are you that nervous? Do not be so tense, young master. You look absolutely lovely right now.”

Unable to admit that his flushed cheeks were due to Leon rather than Dwight, Elwin fanned himself with his hand and hurried out, wishing the cool breeze would sweep away the unwanted thoughts from his head.

But where on earth had Leon gone?

Upon waking this morning, Elwin had been consumed by dread at the thought of facing Leon again. Yet now that the man had not shown his face all day, it troubled him in an entirely different way. He stepped through the grand double doors with a tight expression, only for Dwight to welcome him with that same broad, polished smile.

“There you are, Sir Elwin. Shall we? I have long thought this a magnificent garden.”

It was a terribly belated compliment from a guest who had already resided in the manor for nearly three weeks. As befitted an ancient noble lineage, the estate’s grounds boasted grand, ancient trees; however, the late autumn chill had stripped them bare, leaving the landscape sparse and melancholic.

There was no way his praise for a garden devoid of a single bloom was sincere. It seemed Dwight had resolved to offer only sweet words today, regardless of whether they made sense. As they walked side by side, Elwin’s discomfort deepened and his pace began to flag, when Dwight abruptly broke the silence.

“You have never seen the sea, have you?”

His tone carried the absolute certainty of one who had already decided Elwin had never left the land.

“…After my coming-of-age ceremony,” Elwin replied, slightly flustered, “I traveled with my father along the Mediterranean coast.”

“Ah, the Mediterranean is pleasant, of course, but it cannot compare to the waters of our estate. I am not sure if you are aware, Sir Elwin, but Graymont boasts a massive harbor.”

Clearly, the sea had merely been a stepping stone to brag about his own lands. Dwight spoke grandiosely of foreign trade prospects and the importance of Graymont’s port. Listening closely, Elwin realized the man was simply repeating the very praise the tea party guests had showered upon him to curry favor.

He knows the surface but not the substance, Elwin thought.

Graymont’s harbor suffered from shallow draft depths that make it difficult for large merchant vessels to dock, and the lack of a direct rail line to the capital made transport highly inefficient. The port was already in decline.

Refraining from pointing out these flaws, Elwin simply nodded. Delighted by his quiet attentiveness, Dwight continued to boast about his family lineage for a considerable time.

Watching him preen over such hollow claims, Elwin was struck by the sudden realization that Dwight was puffing himself up like an animal inflating its fur. In nature, such behavior occurred in only two circumstances: to challenge a rival, or to court a mate.

Could it be…?

Just as the thought flashed through his mind, they completed their circuit of the grounds and drew near the manor. Dwight stopped abruptly before a marble bench, drawing a handkerchief from his breast pocket.

Ah. Of course.

Dwight unfolded the silk and spread it over one side of the bench, gesturing with a practiced, gentlemanly flourish. “Please sit, Sir Elwin.”

Was it truly his imagination, or was Dwight courting him? If it were the latter, Toby and Alfred would rejoice, but Elwin felt only an escalating sense of dread.

Unable to refuse, Elwin reluctantly sat down. When he offered a strained smile, Dwight sat immediately beside him with a triumphant air. The distance between them was stiflingly narrow, and Elwin was shifting uncomfortably when Dwight suddenly acknowledged someone near the gate.

“Returning so early?”

“Ah, Lord Dwight. And… Sir Elwin.”

At the sound of Leon’s low baritone, Elwin’s heart plummeted. A sudden, desperate urge to explain himself surged within him, like a lover caught in a betrayal.

Leon knew well that Elwin was desperate to remain on the estate. It would not be strange if he mistook this scene for another of Elwin’s calculated moves. Yet Elwin was not the sort of person who would share a kiss one night and cling to another man the next morning. He did not want Leon to misunderstand, even if no one else ever knew the truth.

What is that expression?

Elwin searched Leon’s features. On the surface, Leon appeared as relaxed and nonchalant as ever, but his gaze remained fixed on the two of them on the bench. His face was a perfect mask. It was impossible to tell if he was angry, unsettled, or utterly indifferent. If he was unaffected, was he merely hiding his agitation? Or was he truly a man who felt nothing upon seeing the person he had kissed the night before sitting intimately with another?

…Wouldn’t that be dreadfully cruel?

At the thought, a cold flash of betrayal washed over Elwin. While his thoughts tangled, Leon’s reply came.

“I had a minor errand to run in the village.”

“I see. Do go inside,” Dwight said smoothly. “I have matters to discuss with Sir Elwin.”

For a fleeting second, Leon’s brow twitched. It was a movement so subtle that one would have missed it entirely without watching him with absolute intensity.

“Then please, carry on with your conversation.”

But the crack in his composure vanished instantly, and Leon slipped into the mansion with an unreadable expression. Elwin watched his retreating figure, only for Dwight to draw his attention back, his lips pulled wide into that same masklike smile.

“To resume, Sir Elwin—”

Just as Dwight was about to speak of something seemingly important, a sharp gust of wind swept through the garden, scattering dried leaf fragments over the bench.

A flash of genuine irritation shattered Dwight’s pleasant facade. His brow furrowed deeply as he began slapping the debris from his coat. Tap. Tap. The sharp, violent sounds made Elwin flinch.

“Are you quite all right, Mr. Dwight?”

“Ah, yes.” Dwight forced a smile, though he glared at the leaf pile with clear disgust. “Even an estate with such deep history is bound to show its flaws when those in charge lack discipline. You are far too indulgent with the household servants, Sir Elwin.”

The gardeners had not cleared the leaves because Elwin had specifically instructed them to leave them, as leaf mold was vital for cultivating seedlings. Yet, after arbitrarily criticizing another family’s domestic staff, Dwight puffed himself up once more.

“If it were up to me, I would never tolerate such sloppiness. I do not mean to boast, but overseeing a bustling port city naturally teaches one how to govern people. Which brings me to this: if I were by your side, I believe I could easily compensate for whatever areas you lack. What do you think of that?”

Because the proposal was so abrupt, it took Elwin several seconds to comprehend his meaning. It was not a misunderstanding; Dwight was actively presenting himself as a suitor.

This was the very outcome Elwin had desperately prayed for since Dwight’s arrival. No matter how hard he tried, Elwin could not bring himself to feel any affection for Dwight, but if Dwight offered his hand first, the objective was achieved. All Elwin had to do was accept.

As always, his personal feelings were irrelevant. Most noble marriages had nothing to do with love. That was why Elwin had resolved to wed the second son of a baron whom he had never even met.

If I only say yes now…

If he accepted Dwight’s offer, he would not have to leave this estate. He could protect Eleanor’s future, secure the servants’ livelihoods, and preserve the peace of the fief.

Yet his throat remained locked. Instead of relief, the only thought that surfaced was: Why now of all times?

Because Elwin’s heart was already…

“Ah, excuse me!”

As Elwin hesitated, caught in agonizing indecision, someone approached across the lawn. It was Eleanor’s governess. Elwin scrambled to his feet, seizing the interruption like a lifeline.

“My apologies, Lord Dwight. There is an urgent matter I must discuss with Eleanor’s tutor. Please excuse me.”

Leaving Dwight with a hasty bow, Elwin practically fled toward the governess. His heart hammered in his chest from sheer panic.

“Young master, whatever is the matter? Are you alright?”

Eleanor’s governess looked startled by his sudden approach. Elwin, whose sole focus had been escaping that bench, stammered in brief embarrassment before finding his voice.

“It is about Miss Selena.”

At the mention of Selena, the governess’s face softened. Although Selena had abruptly joined Eleanor’s studies, doubling her workload, she had grown quite fond of the cheerful girl.

“In truth, some events occurred yesterday and today that may have deeply wounded Miss Selena. I do not know if she will feel up to attending lessons, but if she does, could you please treat her with extra kindness?”

“Oh, my. Of course. I do not know what occurred, but I pray she recovers her spirits. Miss Eleanor has grown so much brighter since she began studying with Miss Selena.”

At her words, Elwin felt an even heavier weight of guilt. Dwight’s sudden change of heart toward him would surely devastate Selena.

No. In truth… I may have ruined everything just now.

Dwight’s inner thoughts were impossible to read, but he had reached out, and Elwin had fled. It would not be surprising if Dwight took offense and resolved to leave the estate immediately. Elwin might have just cast away his final salvation.

Unable to face the household staff, Elwin wandered into the greenhouse, spending hours mindlessly weeding the soil beds. When he finally stopped, his guilt redoubled upon realizing he had dirtied the very garments his servants had painstakingly prepared for him.

Trudging back to the manor, Elwin saw Toby rushing toward him with the boundless energy of a puppy. Elwin let his shoulders drop, preparing to apologize.

“Young master! Lord Dwight wishes to go riding tomorrow!”

Dwight had ridden almost daily, excluding the night of the party. Elwin assumed he was merely going out with his squire, Isaac, as usual, and nodded listlessly.

“I see. Inform the stables. More importantly, Toby, I—”

“No, young master, you do not understand! Lord Dwight requested that you join him—just the two of you!”

“What?”

“Oh, goodness! What is happening? What should you wear tomorrow? Shall we ask Mr. Alfred to commission a new hair ornament?”

Elwin’s mind went entirely blank, as if he had been struck. Dwight was not offended. In fact, he was actively seeking Elwin’s company. As Toby bustled about in pure ecstasy, Elwin could only murmur, a cold dread pooling in his chest.

“Exactly… what on earth is happening?”

***