Chapter 5 – Issen (Part 18)

It was only after drinking three glasses of the strong liquor that the men seemed to relax a bit. Although it was no longer the 90-year-old whiskey, it was still top-quality. Bryant seemed quite pleased with the Duke’s offering.

The dinner continued for nearly an hour, and so did the conversation between the men. The main topic was, of course, the Artist Village. Bryant asked meticulously about what kind of place it was, when they would leave, where they would stay in Chester, and how long they would stay. Jared answered each question sincerely, while Evelyn listened quietly.

Finally, after dessert was served, the man at the piano stopped playing. 

It’s finally over. 

Evelyn eagerly awaited the end of this uncomfortable gathering.

Bryant stopped the musician, who was quietly withdrawing. He praised the man’s performance and effort before sending him off, which was a rare gesture for a musician invited to a noble’s formal dinner. Jared seemed impressed by it.

“Do you play the piano, Mr. Clifton?”

Bryant looked at the woman across from him when asked. When their eyes met, he gave a barely noticeable smile and then confidently answered the Duke.

“No, unfortunately, I’ve never learned.”

Evelyn had to suppress a small laugh with her eyes lowered.

“Do you play the piano, Your Grace?”

“I can play a little.”

“Then I must request a piece.”

Oh my. 

Evelyn anxiously closed her eyes and reopened them. The smile that had briefly lingered on her lips was gone.

“I’m afraid it might be laughable.”

“I assure you it won’t be. Whatever you play will be better than me.”

Bryant urged with a delighted expression. 

No. Please don’t. 

Evelyn silently pleaded, looking down at her dessert plate.

After a brief hesitation, Jared stood up, and from that moment, her heart began to race. She couldn’t bear to watch the man walk toward the piano. It was a relief she was sitting with her back to it.

However, shortly after the music began, she had to reconsider. If only she had been facing the piano, it might have been easier to hide her expression.

Evelyn looked at the man sitting across from her in a resigned state. Bryant, who had his gaze fixed over her shoulder, slightly furrowed his brow. Then he shifted his eyes to look at her. 

It’s the song you like. 

He smiled, a little surprised, as if to say that.

A Single Rose for You.

Evelyn smiled back at him as if nothing was wrong. 

Indeed, it’s quite a coincidence. 

She fervently hoped that the expression she was wearing now would appear that way to the man.

Jared played the serenade elegantly. Although he had learned the piano as part of his education, he hadn’t been very enthusiastic and thus wasn’t exceptionally skilled. Except for that one piece, he played it at a near-master level. Evelyn knew this. There was no way she didn’t.

She liked the serenade he played. That’s why he played that one piece almost perfectly. On her birthday. On the day she accepted his proposal.

On the day they first spent the night together.

A storm of thoughts and emotions surged through her. Evelyn felt trapped in a fierce whirlpool. Behind her was the heavy past, and in front of her was the unsettling present, both staring at her. She couldn’t face either of them.

It was maddening.

When the performance ended, Bryant clapped. There were six people in the formal dining room, including the butler and attendants, but he was the only one who dared to applaud. Only after the monotonous echo of applause faded did Jared stand up. He turned towards the table, gave a humble smile to his audience, and spoke before any comments could be made.

“Let’s get up now.”

Evelyn listened to his words while sitting upright.

“The butler will guide the lady to the drawing room. I hope there are things there that might interest you.”

She felt the gazes of the men touch her back and forehead in turn. She didn’t respond to either. The long dinner was finally over, with only the last formalities remaining. Just a little longer, and she could leave this townhouse.

“Mr. Clifton. Shall we go to the smoking room?”

At the Duke’s suggestion, people began to move. The elderly butler approached the lady and pulled out her chair. Bryant and Evelyn, who stood up first, exchanged glances. 

See you in a bit. 

The silent whisper seemed to reach her ears.

“I will guide you, Miss.”

The butler spoke politely and warmly. It was etiquette for the lady to leave first, followed by the gentlemen. So Evelyn left the formal dining room first, leaving the two men behind, and followed the butler.

*

The smoking room wasn’t far from the dining room. The space was similar in size, and the interior decoration style was similar. Instead of a large dining table or a piano, there were leather sofas, armchairs, and several low tables. There were also standing tables for enjoying drinks or smoking while standing. It was a place decorated on a scale similar to a club’s smoking room.

Being alone in such a spacious place that could accommodate about thirty people at once brought a subtle tension in itself.

Bryant stood in front of a standing round table, scanning the interior with his eyes. There were so many mirrors and paintings on the walls, ornate frames, and intricate sculptures that it seemed like it would take about three or four hours to properly appreciate them all. Noble families typically filled their storerooms with heirlooms, but the level of those items varied according to the family’s history and influence.

It’s rare for a family to maintain the status of rulers for a thousand years. The Glenn family was much older than the royal family of Ritten. That’s why items that seemed to differ in production date by hundreds of years were overflowing in every corner. 

It’s like a museum. 

Bryant thought, fixing his gaze on the landscape painting hanging over the mantelpiece, wanting to take a closer look.

“It’s a splendid room.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I could stay here all day.”

“You’re kind.”

There was no one to serve in the smoking room. However, everything was already prepared. A lighter carved with a lion’s head. Two clean silver ashtrays. A bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Bryant quietly watched as the host handled these items.

“I hope it suits your taste.”

The Duke, having finished the preparations, opened a silver case and offered him a cigarette.

He personally served his guest. He turned over the two glasses, poured whiskey to the height of a finger joint, and after letting the guest pick up a cigarette first, he lit it with a lighter. Bryant put the end of the cigarette, as thick as his index finger, to his lips and slightly lowered his head towards the flame. As he inhaled to light it, he looked at the Duke’s hand holding the lighter. A white, callus-free hand with neatly trimmed nails. A noble’s hand, like his own. There were no yellowish stains from tobacco on his fingertips. He, too, seemed not to be a habitual smoker.

For some reason, Bryant’s gaze lingered on that hand. He watched it as he lit his cigarette, and as the Duke picked up his own cigarette, placed it in his mouth, and lit the end.

“It’s nice because it’s not too strong. I’m not much of a smoker.”

“We share the same taste. Neither am I.”

The Duke, exhaling his first puff of smoke, smiled. It was a distinctly social smile. A stiff Northerner. Reinus’s description was apt.

“Duke Windberg.”

So Bryant decided to bring up the matter at hand. There was no reason to continue a pointless conversation with someone so uninteresting.

“I have a favor to ask.”

The Duke looked at him silently, perhaps surprised. Then he responded with an equally uninteresting reply.

“I hope it’s something I can do for you.”

“It’s something you can certainly do.”

“Please, go ahead.”

Bryant paused briefly to draw attention. He took a deep drag from the cigarette in his hand, slowly exhaled it all, and then finally spoke. The Duke waited without a single movement until then.

“I’d like you not to reveal Evelyn Dale’s identity.”