Chapter 19

Rowena opened a drawer and took out a glass bottle containing a dark liquid.

She shook the bottle to distribute the sediment evenly. The black tea inside churned violently, like waves surging over a breakwater.

It reminded her of Camillia’s vicious misdeeds, roiling and raging without restraint.

Rowena poured a little of the tea into a palm-sized glass bottle and sealed the lid tightly.

After slipping it into her purse, she immediately picked up her quill to write a letter to Edric Bernhardt.

She wrote a few brief sentences asking whether he could spare some time for her soon, then summoned a servant.

“Deliver this letter to the Marquis of Windervane at once.”

To her surprise, the servant returned with a reply only a few hours later.

Rowena unfolded the letter, closed her eyes, and drew in a deep breath.

“Jasmine this time.”

Come to think of it, the marquis’s official letters and invitations were always scented.

And the fragrance was different every time.

Just how many perfumes did he own?

Surely he must have at least twenty.

That must be why he always smells so lovely.

With that idle thought, Rowena lowered her gaze.

On the luxurious, gold-bordered paper, ink as blue as the sea seemed to radiate a gentle warmth.

How about tomorrow?

Pier No. 3 on the Veylon River, around noon.

The following day, half an hour before noon, Rowena’s carriage stopped near Pier No. 3 on the Veylon River.

After instructing the coachman to wait nearby, she checked the clock tower once more.

There was still plenty of time before their appointment.

Rowena gazed at the clear blue sky stretching beyond the clock tower, then slowly surveyed the peaceful riverbank.

The silver waterway, sparkling beneath the sunlight, cut diagonally through the city of Erisvale.

Perhaps that was why the riverside was so full of life.

Straightening her back, Rowena made her way among the people enjoying a leisurely weekend.

She strolled slowly beneath the cool shade of the elm trees.

To her left, a family of ducks swam serenely across the gently rippling water.

Rowena smiled to herself, then turned her attention toward Pier No. 3, where she was supposed to meet the marquis.

A newspaper boy was running cheerfully across the thick wooden planks of the pier.

Rowena approached him and handed him a coin.

“May I have a newspaper?”

“Here you are, my lady.”

“Keep the change.”

The boy answered with a bright smile.

“Thank you!”

Still smiling, Rowena looked around.

The marquis had not arrived yet.

Deciding to wait at her leisure, she headed toward a nearby bench.

On the way, she even bought a bouquet of pale-purple lilacs from a flower cart.

Perhaps it was the lovely fragrance of the flowers.

For some reason, she was in a good mood today.

Once seated on the bench, Rowena began turning the rustling pages of her newspaper.

She immediately opened it to the fiction section, her eyes sparkling with interest.

Her gaze was darting eagerly across the printed words when an unusual boat approached the pier and caught her attention.

It was a boat draped in translucent curtains.

The edges of the curtains were embroidered with gold thread, giving the vessel an air of mystery rather than anything suspicious.

And, astonishingly, Sebas Charlton emerged from behind those luxurious drapes.

He leaped onto the pier, removed his hat, and bowed politely.

“It’s good to see you, Sir Charlton.”

“I’m delighted to see you again as well, my lady! Now, please come aboard. His Lordship is waiting inside.”

With Sebas Charlton’s assistance, Rowena stepped onto the boat.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“No. I’ll be taking that little boat over there.”

Rowena followed his gesture, and her eyes widened.

The boat he indicated was barely large enough to accommodate two people, and it was filled with brightly colored flowers.

Why had he decorated it like that?

And why was Sir Charlton going to ride in that boat?

While Rowena puzzled over these questions, Sebas Charlton called out cheerfully,

“Well then, enjoy yourselves!”

Enjoy ourselves?

Before Rowena could ask what he meant, Sebas Charlton climbed into the little boat and began rowing vigorously away.

As Sebas Charlton had said, her meeting with the marquis proved to be a thoroughly pleasant and productive occasion.

But before Rowena could appreciate that fact, she found herself overcome with admiration.

She had never imagined the interior of the curtained boat would be so luxurious.

A smooth, octagonal table made of ebony stood at the center of the vessel.

The porcelain teacups arranged on it gleamed with a lustrous sheen, surrounded by an abundant assortment of colorful cakes and appetizing fruit.

Whenever the curtains stirred, small crystal ornaments hanging from the ceiling produced a soft, clear chime.

“Well? Do you like it, my lady?”

The Marquis of Windervane, who had been reclining against a large, plush cushion, sat up.

“…I’ve never been on a boat like this before.”

No sooner had Rowena answered in a daze than the boat began to move.

The sudden departure made her sway slightly.

At once, the marquis’s hand shot out with astonishing speed and drew her toward him by the shoulder.

Rowena blinked.

His face, suddenly so close, filled her bewildered gaze.

Today, the marquis wore a pearl-colored silk shirt and a black velvet vest.

Unfortunately for Rowena, a couple of buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of the powerful contours of his chest.

Then his masculine scent, mingled with a faint musk fragrance, reached her.

Rowena could scarcely breathe.

The sensations overwhelming her eyes and nose were so intense that her body went rigid as a block of wood.

Noticing this, the marquis immediately raised both hands.

“Oh dear. Was that a little too much consideration?”

He added, as though making an excuse,

“But surely it’s better to be an excessively fine gentleman than to let you fall. Don’t you agree?”

“…Thank you, my lord.”

Feeling her earlobes grow hot, Rowena answered quickly.

Then she took her seat and offered a greeting to the man sitting opposite her.

The man sitting with his back perfectly straight was the lawyer, Felix Mordel.

He was still pale and looked as tired as ever.

Rowena was a little worried about him.

She wanted to ask whether his health was all right, but they were not yet close enough to exchange such personal remarks.

So she opened the conversation with something ordinary.

“Thank you for making time for me, Count Lassen.”

“Meeting with a client is simply part of my duty.”

Felix Mordel answered matter-of-factly and took a sip of fruit wine.

His manner carried the weary cynicism of a man who had grown tired of the world.

Rowena studied him intently.

When their eyes met, Felix Mordel did not look away.

Feeling awkward, Rowena impulsively held out the bouquet of lilacs she had been carrying.

“…Please accept these, Count Lassen. I bought them on my way here.”

At that, the Marquis of Windervane raised an eyebrow.

“And me?”

A large ruby ring gleamed on the index finger he pointed toward his own chest.

Flustered, Rowena abruptly offered him the newspaper she was holding.

“If you don’t mind, perhaps the newspaper…”

“Did you buy it for me?”

“Not exactly, but there’s an interesting novel in it.”

“What is it?”

“The Tale of the Maids, by Madame Margrethe.”

“I like that novel too. The ending was particularly memorable.”

“…It hasn’t finished yet.”

“Remarkably enough, I already know how it ends.”

Answering with his usual joking manner, the marquis opened the newspaper.

Then he sank his enormous, rock-solid frame deep into the cushions.

“From now on, I shall savor this masterpiece line by line, so the two of you may discuss whatever you please. Pay me no mind. My powers of concentration are extraordinary. Once I become absorbed in something, I can’t hear anything else.”

“…”

But his presence was far too overwhelming to ignore.

Whenever the marquis chuckled over the novel, the surroundings seemed to brighten all at once.

Each time his large fingers adjusted their grip on the newspaper, it rustled, making Rowena inexplicably nervous.

Even the utterly indifferent Felix Mordel occasionally glanced toward him.

Consequently, Rowena had to summon an extraordinary amount of concentration.

In a subdued voice, she began describing the elaborate confession she had made earlier.

“I’ve secured a highly respected confessor as a witness.”

“Well done. Then it is about time we prepared the documents.”

“Yes.”

“We shall state the grounds as ‘the incomplete consummation of marriage resulting from Count Livros’s persistent erectile dysfunction.’ Since the matter of producing an heir is also involved, it should appear to be a fairly reasonable argument.”

Rowena’s mouth fell open.

He had spoken in a perfectly professional tone, but that did nothing to soften the explicit term beginning with erectile.

Rowena’s cheeks turned as red as carrots.

She cast a trembling glance toward the Marquis of Windervane.

Fortunately, the marquis was entirely occupied with reading the masterpiece of the century.

He had even raised the newspaper to conceal his face.

He appeared so engrossed that he might have been about to disappear into its pages.