Chapter 3

The Count’s residence where Dale Clyde resided was always quiet. Like its master, even the building seemed to prefer silence, not just the servants.

The well-trained maids and footmen always did their work quietly, and during the day when Dale was at the palace for Knight Order business, it was even more tranquil.

Despite being in the center of the capital, it felt somehow isolated. Only when Dale returned did lights come on throughout the house. Though a gentle warmth circulated inside, the quietness remained.

It was an easy place to work if one understood the regular and strict nature of the master and respected boundaries.

There were no irritable ladies, no young masters or misses who mistreated servants from an early age. Among maids, the Clyde comital residence was quietly popular as a workplace.

In the midst of this almost tediously flowing daily life, the servants had recently noticed changes in their master, whether consciously or not.

Twice a week, a change had come to their otherwise repetitive daily routine.

“He’s back already?”

“It’s tomorrow.”

“Ah.”

With just that brief exchange, they all knew who was being discussed. The commoner painter who looked suspicious at first glance.

As the day of his visit approached, their master seemed oddly pleased. Though it had only happened twice so far, the servants were certain.

Of course, “pleased” still meant the same tightly closed lips and sharp gaze, but servants who had attended him for a long time noticed these subtle changes.

It was strange. They had thought only two people in the world could affect Dale’s mood: his mother and Isabel.

“How unusual.”

“He loves paintings so much. He must enjoy having someone to talk to who understands.”

“For conversation, there’s hardly any sound coming from there.”

“That painter doesn’t seem to talk. I saw him writing notes to communicate.”

“Still, it’s suspicious. It’s remarkable our master let him in.”

Though the servants resembled their master in being introverted, that didn’t mean they were quiet. They would whisper softly while cleaning throughout the mansion. These days, the changes in their long-served master were the biggest topic among them.

Some of them had served Dale since he was a young master.

“It’s not threatening. Our master has always had his peculiar interests.”

“That’s true. He does get fixated on strange things sometimes.”

Those who didn’t know Dale well always added “scary” whenever they made shallow judgments about him. But people who knew Dale a little deeper or saw him often would half agree and half disagree.

Of course, Dale had an intimidating presence that clearly drew lines with everyone and prevented them from even attempting to cross those boundaries, but that also meant he was an ordinary person as long as one respected those lines.

Rather, he occasionally had quirky aspects. Since he rarely showed expressions or spoke much, these traits seemed even more pronounced.

So on the first day Painter J met Dale, while J was thinking to himself, ‘He’s a polite person,’ a middle-aged butler passing nearby saw the master greeting a guest personally and thought:

‘He’s interested.’

Then he went back to his duties. After that, servants who saw Dale’s face all had similar thoughts.

Especially when he issued an entry ban to the reception room where the painter stayed, everyone thought the same thing:

‘He must really like him.’

How unusual for him to be so considerate.

It was uncommon, but that was the extent of it. While showing interest in their master’s changes, they didn’t get further involved or add unnecessary comments about Dale.

That was precisely the boundary Dale had drawn.

Then came a certain day. By the standards of the Clyde comital residence servants, it was the day Painter J had visited and left.

Around evening, a sudden but welcome guest arrived.

“Daaale! I’m here!”

Cheerfully drawing out the pronunciation and raising one hand high was Isabel Deviers, the only person who ever made loud noises when visiting this house.

When she arrived, the otherwise silent entrance hall filled with her high, clear laughter. Maids would flock around her, all wanting to receive her hat and coat.

“Miss, you’ve arrived.”

But as the head maid approached, Isabel grinned and handed her hat to her.

“Yes, Nanny. Have you been well?”

Isabel wasn’t truly the head maid’s “Miss,” and the head maid wasn’t Isabel’s nanny. Their terms of address carried meaning beyond simple titles.

Having played together since childhood, Isabel was the only young lady in the Clyde family that had only sons, and Dale’s nanny was essentially Isabel’s nanny as well.

When Isabel first visited the mansion after marrying Jack, the head maid addressed her as “Duchess Deviers” with formal respect. Isabel was very upset then.

She was so hurt that she gathered all the household staff, including Dale, and said tearfully:

‘Even though I’ve become a duchess now, I still want to be Isabel here. Dale and all of you, please treat me the same as before. This is like my second home.’

Everyone was touched by Isabel calling this her “home.” They realized for the first time that this family meant more to her than just a close acquaintance. Finally, Dale gave permission to do as they pleased, so Isabel continued to be called “Miss” at the Clyde residence.

“Where’s Dale? Why isn’t he coming out?”

Normally, Dale should have appeared upon hearing her voice, but when he didn’t, Isabel’s eyes narrowed.

“Ah, the master is in the reception room. I’ll inform him that you’ve arrived.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll go myself. Carry on with your work, Nanny.”

Isabel raised a hand to the head maid and walked briskly away. The maids who knew which reception room Dale was in belatedly looked at each other with startled expressions, but Isabel didn’t notice.

Just as she was about to open the reception room door without hesitation, it opened from inside.

“Isabel.”

“Hello, Dale.”

Dale looked down at her calmly, as if he’d known she was coming. Isabel smiled brightly at him.

“What were you doing that you didn’t come out when I arrived?”

Instead of answering, Dale came out of the reception room and closed the door behind him.

“You always clam up when you’re at a disadvantage. Well, never mind. Let’s talk inside. I have news for you.”

Isabel shrugged and reached for the doorknob behind Dale. He gently stopped her.

“Let’s go to another room.”

“Why?”

Even as Isabel tilted her head in confusion, Dale naturally guided her toward the corridor.

“It’s a bit messy.”

“The reception room?”

“Yes.”

Still not understanding, Isabel pursed her lips in thought. Until now, there had been no room in this house she couldn’t enter. Even Dale’s bedroom.

Isabel wondered whether what she was feeling was hurt or curiosity. Meanwhile, Dale’s voice came from above her head.

“Dinner?”

Isabel stared up at Dale as he asked.

‘He seems in a good mood.’

Of course, Dale had never been in a bad mood when Isabel visited. Isabel smiled again. That lovely, fresh smile that made her most radiant.

“Not yet. Shall I eat before I go?”

“Yes.”

Dale answered briefly and guided her to his nearby study. Upon entering the room, Isabel took a seat first.

“Come sit quickly.”

Isabel cutely patted the spot beside her, but Dale sat across from her instead.

“So shy.”

Familiar with his behavior, Isabel chuckled.

She thought Dale would treat her the same no matter what kind of person she became. But since her marriage to Jack, he hadn’t been as intimate as before.

He no longer sat beside her, and even when she hugged him while meeting or parting, he didn’t properly reciprocate.

Before her marriage, he would sit beside her without being asked, and when she’d hug him around the neck at partings, he would embrace her waist in return.

‘How provincial.’

Isabel inwardly mocked his attitude, but she didn’t dislike it. In other words, it meant he was conscious of her. If he truly thought of her only as a friend, he should treat her the same whether she was married or not.

Of course, outwardly they remained friends. Isabel didn’t feel hurt over such small matters.

“Guess where I went today?”

“Where.”

“The Peyton comital residence.”

At that moment, Dale’s expression changed. So did Isabel’s. From a lovely smile to a mournful face. Her slightly upturned lips pressed firmly shut.

A brief silence. After mentally counting to three, Isabel spoke again.

“I met that woman.”

Dale silently stared at Isabel.

“What do you think I said to her?”

In high society, people everywhere thirsted for stimulating and interesting stories. That was all they talked about while hosting parties every day and inviting guests for tea.

Isabel had rushed over, eager to tell him how shameless that Lady Peyton was.

Finally, Dale spoke.

“Are you alright?”

“What?”

“I’m asking if you’re alright now.”

Isabel blinked with her lips still upturned. Was she alright?

“How could I be?”