The Duke of Winches remained silent as he stared at Ophelia, who had stepped forward.

His gaze felt sharp enough to pierce straight through her.

Though a chill ran down her spine, she tried not to show it.

After what felt like an endless silence, he finally parted his tightly closed lips.

“Did you ghostwrite a love letter today for a servant from the ducal household? His name is Esmond.”

“…Like autumn drawing steadily closer, I wish to linger by your side. From Esmond, who loves you.”

That shy young man.

The one who had looked strangely frightened.

Ophelia slowly nodded.

She had not known he was a servant of the Winches family, but she clearly remembered the name she had written on the letter.

“That’s correct. Is there… some kind of problem?”

The Duke of Winches frowned as though the very situation gave him a headache.

“Because of the thoughtless love letter you wrote, the entire ducal estate has been thrown into chaos.”

The story, as he explained it, went like this.

Earlier that afternoon, the servant Esmond had delivered a confession letter to Adre Winches, the third daughter of the ducal family.

Unfortunately, however, the first person to discover the letter had been Adre’s fiancé, the young Viscount Berkshire.

And the contents of the letter revealed not one-sided affection from Esmond, but mutual feelings between him and the young lady.

But there was another reason the incident had exploded into something far worse.

The beautifully written contents of the letter itself.

The romantic wording, filled with aching affection, was enough to make readers forget the difference in their social status entirely.

The letter stirred hearts so deeply that the incident had evolved beyond mere scandal into a topic guaranteed to dominate social gossip.

The young Viscount Berkshire had been furious beyond reason.

Not only had he viciously condemned Adre’s morality, but he had even dragged the honor of the ducal family into the matter.

Once the Duke of Winches learned of the incident, he personally read the letter himself and began searching for the person who had written it.

In reality, it was the young viscount, who had already been secretly exchanging letters with his own maid, who seized the opportunity to make an even greater uproar.

But Ophelia had no way of knowing that.

In short, the duke explained that because of a single ghostwritten letter from Ophelia, the Winches family now faced humiliation throughout high society.

“I cannot say all of this is entirely your fault, Miss Summer. However, I did come here to hold you accountable for accepting the request so carelessly.”

“Y-Your Grace. Miss Summer only started working today.”

Gathering her courage, Mrs. Bovary hurried to Ophelia’s side.

But Ophelia could not bear the thought of causing trouble for her.

Lifting her chin resolutely, she looked up at the duke.

“If I bear responsibility for this, then I will accept it.”

“At present, my sister stands on the verge of a broken engagement, and the reputation of the ducal family is collapsing throughout society.”

“……”

It was undeniably true that she had failed to properly verify the identity of the client before accepting the request.

Ophelia silently reproached herself for her carelessness.

She felt so sorry toward Mrs. Bovary and Clarice that she could barely raise her head.

“…I’m sorry. What should I do?”

“You said today was your first day working here?”

“Yes.”

“For a beginner, you wrote quite well.”

“It truly was my first time. Please believe me.”

The duke stared down at her for a long moment, as though judging whether her words were truthful.

Then he spoke again.

“Come to the ducal estate tomorrow at lunchtime. I’ll send a carriage here for you.”

With those words, the duke turned and left the shop almost immediately.

The cheerful bell rang as the door closed behind him, and the moment the four-wheeled carriage departed, Clarice let out a huge breath.

“Waaah… that was seriously terrifying.”

“Miss, are you alright?”

Mrs. Bovary clasped Ophelia’s hand worriedly.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bovary. And Clarice too. Because of me…”

“Don’t say that. None of this is your fault, Miss. If anything, it’s our fault for not properly explaining the procedures to you.”

“The real people at fault are that cheating servant and the young lady! Why are they taking it out on someone innocent?!”

Clarice shouted indignantly.

Despite their attempts to comfort her, Ophelia quietly sighed to herself.

Outwardly, she acted calm.

But inside, she felt so shaken she could barely remain standing.

To think something like this would happen immediately after leaving the Roswell estate.

***

The next day, right on time, the carriage sent by the duke arrived in front of the ghostwriting shop.

After reassuring Mrs. Bovary and Clarice not to worry, Ophelia climbed aboard with a forced smile.

Once the carriage began rattling forward, she finally let the smile fade and stared out the window with a face full of concern.

She was afraid the trouble she caused might bring harm to Mrs. Bovary’s shop.

And if the incident spread any further through high society, it might only be a matter of time before word reached the Roswell family as well.

Although she was using the pen name ‘Summer,’ there was no guarantee gossip-loving noblewomen would not come searching for the mysterious writer at the shop.

After all, this was gossip involving the Duke of Winches himself.

And among those nobles, there would certainly be many who knew she was Hemian Roswell’s ex-wife.

She rarely attended gatherings because of her introverted personality, but there were still occasions where absence had not been possible…

As one anxious thought led to another, the carriage steadily made its way toward the ducal estate.

When she stepped down from the carriage, a servant waiting for her escorted her to the reception room.

The sheer grandeur of the ducal residence made her shrink into herself even more.

After walking through magnificent corridors for quite some time, she finally arrived at the reception room.

And there sat the same man she had seen yesterday.

Cedric Winches.

Though he wore another dark uniform similar to the day before, perhaps because of the sunlight streaming through the large windows of the reception room, he did not feel quite as frightening as he had last night.

Still, the rumors claiming he was breathtakingly handsome were undeniably true.

Though the Duke of Winches was famous for rarely appearing in society, his appearance alone remained endlessly talked about.

Beneath his carelessly arranged black hair were those strange ash-gray eyes that seemed almost emerald at certain angles.

His flawless pale skin appeared even more striking against the dark formal uniform he wore.

‘Why do those eyes feel familiar somehow…?’

She had seen his face in newspapers before, but this familiarity felt different.

‘Where have I seen them…?’

She tried to search her memory, but at that exact moment their eyes met, forcing the thought from her mind entirely.

Realizing she had been staring blankly, Ophelia hurriedly bowed properly according to etiquette.

“I-It’s an honor to meet you, Duke Winches.”

“Sit.”

Trying her best to appear calm, Ophelia carefully took her seat.

As the duke silently followed her movements with his eyes, he placed the hand resting on his knee onto the table and slowly leaned forward.

As though observing her.

“……”

“……”

“……Did you perhaps have something you wished to say to me?”

Unable to endure the prolonged stare any longer, she finally forced herself to speak.

The duke withdrew the gaze that had felt almost oppressive and leisurely lifted his teacup before asking,

“You are the Countess of Roswell, aren’t you?”

“……!”

The Roswell territory and the Winches duchy were physically very far apart.

Moreover, although Ophelia’s name was known within society, her face was not particularly recognizable.

And above all, wasn’t the Duke of Winches infamous for shutting himself away in his estate and avoiding public appearances altogether?

For all those reasons, Ophelia was startled that he had recognized her immediately.

“Why is the Countess of Roswell all the way here in distant Edent, using the alias Summer and working in a shabby little ghostwriting shop?”

She could feel her ears turning bright red against her will.

It even felt as though the duke’s gaze had drifted toward them.

Avoiding eye contact, Ophelia barely managed to answer.

“……I had personal reasons.”

“Do you need money? Has the Roswell family gone bankrupt?”

“…….”

“Or perhaps… divorce?”

Ophelia could not answer.

A faint sense of humiliation rose within her.

Putting strength into her voice, she responded firmly,

“I already said it was personal.”

“If I offended you, I apologize. I was merely curious.”

Something inside her flared.

“Is that why you summoned me here?”

“……Of course not.”

The duke lifted his teacup, wet his lips lightly, and set it back down.

Then, finally, he brought up the true reason.