Ariana looked up at him with a wounded expression, stumbling over her words.

“That’s not it—I was going to handle it myself—”

“Oh, sure. Following him out without a second thought? That’s definitely how you handle things well.”

“What…?”

Kenneth finally turned around, no longer able to suppress the irritation throbbing at his temples.

This wasn’t her fault. The blame lay with the man who’d approached a debutante with no sense of propriety, cornering her on her first night in society.

So then—why was he this angry?

Ariana stared up at him, her lips parting in silence. Glossed with a faint red sheen, they opened just slightly—then pressed shut again as she bit down on her lower lip, as if to swallow whatever emotion threatened to spill.

A sudden thought struck him.

‘Would she still lose her composure like this… even with the man who’d one day become her husband?’

The garden was shrouded in gentle darkness, filled only by the soft chorus of insects and the faint, sweet, vanilla-like scent of honeysuckle.

Kenneth found his gaze fixed on Ariana’s lips, utterly captivated.

Although she had never smiled at him, her lips held the most delicate curve.

He had thought her bold and curious ever since they first met, but this was the first time he had found himself drawn to her mouth.

‘Couldn’t she have offered me even a single smile after all these years? Just once…’

“Wasn’t Quentin’s little sister the prettiest one?”

The memory of the idle chatter in the ballroom came back to him, and Kenneth forced himself to tear his gaze away from her lips and look her in the eye instead.

They were clearer than any gemstone, like glass marbles tinted the purest shade of blue.

It was the closest he had come to truly looking into her eyes since they first met.

They were so stunning that the words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.

“Ariana, do you know why that idiot thought he had a chance with you the moment he saw you?”

“That’s… because…”

“Because you weren’t dressed like a proper debutante. You looked easy.”

Kenneth shot her a scathing look. The modest white rose was adorned with only a few sparkling stones. While it would have been suitable for a tea party, it was completely inappropriate for an evening like this.

‘Quentin…’

He was spending the family’s money on himself, yet he wasn’t putting any of it towards his sister’s debut. The sheer negligence of her brother, coupled with her mother’s short-sightedness, set Kenneth’s teeth on edge.

But even worse was seeing Ariana standing there in silence, gripping the hem of her dress with both hands.

“That guy ran his mouth because you looked like someone he wouldn’t have to spend a penny on.”

“……”

“You should have just asked me for help from the start.”

The moment those words left his mouth, Kenneth finally understood the bitter sting behind his anger.

‘That’s it.’

Of all her acquaintances, he was the most obvious person to ask for support.

If she had just asked him for a few ornaments or for the favour of being escorted by a young duke,

it would have saved her the indignity of dealing with trash like that man.

And in return, it wouldn’t have cost her a thing. In fact… it might’ve even benefited him.

From a young age, there had never been a shortage of people eager to bask in Kenneth’s prestige. He had grown sick of them all.

But Quentin’s little sister—
For her, he would’ve been more than willing to offer his favor. Gladly, even. As much as she wanted.

But unless she asked, there was nothing he could do. Not really.

Ariana avoided his gaze and murmured softly under her breath.

“…What does it matter to you, Kenneth?”

“What?”

“You’re just my brother’s friend, aren’t you…?”

“Well, yes.”

It might have hurt less if she had slapped him. Although her tone was quiet and uncertain, her words spelled out the reality with precision. And that made the anger rise all the more sharply.

Kenneth gave a crooked smile.

“Then if another idiot like that walks up to you, you’ll just stare blankly until you find yourself at the altar, huh?”

“Ah…! That won’t happen.”

Ariana pulled her hand free and answered firmly.

“It was my first time, that’s all. I was caught off guard. I won’t let it happen again.”

“You’d better not. Because the moment you show even the tiniest hint of interest, they’ll all start convincing themselves they’ve got a chance.”

“What does it matter whether I’m interested or not?”

Kenneth’s jaw tensed.
“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”

If it truly didn’t matter, then why had he gone to House Aberdeen every single year?
…To visit Quentin, of course. Just to see a friend. And she had simply been there—by coincidence.

Right?

“It doesn’t matter, because I don’t like anyone. Not a single person in that ballroom.”

“…”

“But I’ll be careful, just like you told me to. Thank you, Lord Clifford.”

She dipped into a small bow, hands gently clutching the sides of her dress.

Polite. Respectful. And entirely distant.

Kenneth stood still, watching her walk alone back toward the building where the ballroom awaited.

A sigh slipped from his lips—closer to a groan than a breath.

‘He was angry. That much was certain.’

He should have been furious with the mangy little viscount who dared to approach her.

Yet somehow he took it out on Ariana instead.

But why had he gone looking for her in the first place?

Ah, The dance.

Kenneth dragged a hand down his face, sighing into his palm.

He’d tracked her down to ask her to dance – because she was Quentin’s sister, and he wanted to congratulate her privately while they danced.

But he’d forgotten all about that the moment he saw her.

Now, after everything that had happened, he realised that if he asked her, she would only smile politely and find an excuse to slip away.

“Haah…”

He felt like the biggest fool in the world.

Nothing had ever made him feel this way before.

Not even the Imperial Court had made him feel this way.

Not even his parents, who were still alive at the time.

Ariana, just a friend’s little sister, was the only person who could turn him into an idiot.

***

A few days after the debutante ball.

Kenneth subjected himself to a great deal of harsh self-scrutiny.

He could not tolerate the idea of harbouring that kind of affection for his friend’s sister.

The only reason he had continued to visit her was his stubborn desire to see her smile — nothing more. He must have been mistaken.

Yet, when he imagined Ariana one day telling him that she had found happiness with another man—

‘Lord Kenneth, it would mean so much if you attended the wedding. I’ll show you how happy we are together’

— an indescribable wave of displeasure washed over him.

Was that jealousy? Or was it merely overbearing interference in the life of an acquaintance?

He needed to be honest with himself about his feelings.

Kenneth had always been quick to act once a decision was made — patience was not in his nature.

So, without delay, he set his plan in motion.

Carrying a bouquet of soft pink peonies, he paid a visit to the House of Aberdeen.

Ariana greeted him, her eyes lowered and her expression more reserved than usual.

“Good afternoon, Lord Clifford. My brother isn’t in at the moment – shall I leave him a message? Mother is out as well.”

“I know.”

He was the one who had sent Quentin and Josephina on convenient errands, after all.

Kenneth watched Ariana fidget, wringing her hands as though uneasy, then spoke.

“I came to see you today.”

“M-me?”

“Here—take this, Ariana.”

Without hesitation he held out the bouquet.

Although it seemed as though he had bought it on a whim, he had actually wanted to give her something far more expensive. He had only settled on flowers because he was afraid she might reject a more expensive gift.

“A present for your debut.”

“….”

“And an apology for that night.”

Although the fool with the worthless face was at fault, Kenneth had still lashed out at Ariana on her special evening.

Holding the peony bouquet close to her, she remained silent.

After a few seconds — or perhaps minutes — she finally offered him a faint smile.

“Thank you, Kenneth.”

“……”

“I’ll put them in my room… or perhaps arrange them here in the parlor.”

It was the polite smile she would grant any acquaintance.

And yet the slight upturn of her lips was answer enough.

He understood now that he would never tolerate seeing Ariana Aberdeen smile more brightly at another man, and that the desire to claim that smile had sprouted far earlier than he’d realized.

“I don’t like anyone at all.”

So, she didn’t see him as a man. Very well.

Kenneth Clifford had no desire to force marriage upon a woman who didn’t want him.

This left only one option: to visit more often and gradually make it clear that his visits were for her.

He refused to be remembered merely as ‘my brother’s friend’.

You could call it stubbornness, or patience if you were feeling generous.

Either way, he stood in silence, watching Ariana carefully arrange the bouquet in its vase. His resolve was as steady as stone.

He would wait for her to finally turn and face him.

Whatever trials or misunderstandings lay ahead, he would endure them all.

***

Years later, in a seaside villa, Ariana listened to the tale and stared at Kenneth in sheer disbelief.

“Wait, so that’s when it started?”

“That’s right.”

She was leaning against him, sitting on the edge of the bed and unbuttoning his shirt. The story was so unbelievable that her fingers froze halfway down, and Kenneth’s puzzled look only made matters worse.

“Thinking back, I swear I made it obvious. How did you not notice back then?”

Ariana could only gape, utterly at a loss for words.