“Ah! I’m so sorry for being disrespectful.”

Realizing she had fallen asleep on the marchioness’s bed, Beate was overcome with embarrassment and guilt. She hadn’t meant to stay by her side for this to happen.

“You’re Beate, right? My husband told me about you. It’s all right, come here and sit closer.”

Sophia gently invited her in a weak voice. She quietly watched as Beate, unable to meet her eyes, sat with her head bowed.

Sophia reached out to brush aside a few strands of hair stuck to Beate’s cheek. It was a habit she’d developed with Riley.

Beate flinched at the unexpected gesture but didn’t show it. She quietly accepted Sophia’s touch without pulling away.

Even after Sophia gently brushed her hair, the strands didn’t come off Beate’s cheek—they were stuck with dried tears.

‘She’s been crying…’

Seeing the shadow on Beate’s face, a shadow she never saw on Riley or her friends, Sophia felt a pang of sorrow.

How much must this child not want to return to the orphanage, to cry even in her sleep?

At an age when she should be showered with love and allowed to be spoiled, how could she bear being left alone in the world with no one to rely on?

With such a small and delicate body.

‘Which would hurt me more—sending this child back to the orphanage, or adopting her?’

She wasn’t sure which was the better choice, nor could she be sure her heart wouldn’t ache either way.

At her husband’s request, she had agreed only to meet the child for now.

Sophia pulled the bell cord by the bed to call for assistance. Soon, the door opened and Laura entered.

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“I feel much better after a good nap, even if it was brief.”

“I’m glad. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I finally have a guest in my room, but there’s nothing here to offer.”

Sophia, who could barely eat herself, kept nothing but water in her room. Laura was delighted to hear Sophia ask for something to be brought.

“I’ll prepare a morning tea for you. Please wait just a moment.”

“Laura, could you also bring ‘that’ along?”

Even with just the word ‘that,’ Laura understood.

“Of course, madam.”

“Should I help?”

Beate, more used to serving than being served, stood up and offered to help Laura.

“Miss Beate is the marchioness’s honored guest. Sharing conversation with the lady is far more helpful than assisting me.”

Laura winked at Beate and left the room.

“A guest has come and look at me, still in this state.”

Sophia, still in her negligee and robe, got down from the bed. She pulled the bell cord twice to summon a maid. As Beate looked around the room with curious eyes, Sophia spoke.

“Beate, while I change and get ready, feel free to look around the room if you’d like.”

“Then I’ll take a look around for a bit.”

While Sophia changed and had her hair arranged with the help of a maid, Beate relaxed and took her time admiring the room.

What drew her attention most was the large family portrait hanging on one wall.

Painted by a renowned artist of the time, the portrait featured the marquis and marchioness with their three children.

The children resembled their father more than their mother.

Next to the marquis stood his eldest daughter and second son, both with his silver hair and green eyes. Next to the marchioness was Riley, who had her father’s silver hair and her mother’s purple eyes.

Only the marchioness had pale blonde hair.

The artist’s style was beautiful, but the family’s striking looks made the painting even more remarkable. Beate was quietly impressed.

‘What a truly beautiful family.’

The portrait had been completed when Riley turned thirteen, and two years had passed since then, so the eldest daughter and second son would be older now, but time had stopped in the
painting.

Perhaps the marchioness didn’t want to replace the portrait with one that didn’t include Riley.

While Beate was gazing at the portrait, Rose and a maid set the table for tea time.

Sophia, seated at the table, applied a light blush and lipstick to cover her pale face.

Her hair was styled prettily, but due to health issues, it wasn’t as lustrous as before.

After two years of avoiding society and staying indoors, Sophia was now a little different from the woman in the portrait.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had tea time with a guest. It would have been nicer to have it in the parlor or under the garden pergola, but as my condition isn’t good, we’ll have tea here instead. Is that all right?”

“I like it here too.”

In truth, having tea time in her private bedroom was a special gesture from Sophia.

She never allowed anyone into her room unless they were extremely close.

For her, the bedroom door was the same as the door to her heart.

Aside from family and a few staff, anyone allowed to enter and stay here was someone Sophia had accepted into her heart.

On the table, afternoon tea was set up, enough to serve as a light lunch.

At the center was a three-tiered tray, and surrounding it were colorful, beautiful desserts that made one happy just to look at them.

What caught Beate’s eye most was a macaron tray, crafted as a miniature carousel with fourteen white horses with golden manes spinning around.

Each horse carried a macaron of a different flavor and color, and Riley was riding the prettiest white horse. When wound up, the carousel spun and played an enchanting music box melody.

The carousel spun in Sophia’s eyes.

Memories, longing, and sorrow for Riley never left her, always returning, like the carousel.

Sensing Beate’s gaze, Sophia spoke.

“It was my youngest daughter Riley’s eighth birthday present. It was her favorite. Whenever her friends visited, we always brought it out. I haven’t had a reason to use it in a long time, but seeing it again now makes me happy.”

The ‘that’ Sophia had mentioned was the macaron carousel.

She had said at the dining room that it was a one-of-a-kind piece made by a master figurine artist.

It was a piece of tableware that let young girls experience a special, fairy-tale-like tea time.

“There’s no need to worry about the order—just help yourself as you like.”

“Yes, thank you for the food.”

When Sophia encouraged her, the maid poured the tea.

Beate busied herself, tasting a little of everything.

Meanwhile, Sophia only sipped her tea. The only food she touched was a single piece of cheese canapé.

Even that, she seemed to taste only to start a conversation with Beate, since it was cheese from the orphanage.

“The cheese is really delicious. You helped make it, didn’t you?”

“Yes. The priests at Larre Orphanage teach us many things.”

“It’s wonderful you can make things like this at such a young age. Was it difficult or hard to learn?”

“Well, the way we do it is…”

Beate used her hands and gestures to explain how to handle goats and make cheese.

Sophia listened with a faint smile as Beate chattered away.

Unlike the rumors she’d heard in her previous life, Sophia was not difficult or unapproachable at all. Those must have been the standards of high society.

As Beate watched Sophia’s face, she thought carefully about what ingredients might lift the marchioness’s mood and appetite. Then, suddenly, an idea came to her.

“There’s something I’d like to ask.”

“Ask anything you wish.”

Sophia set down her teacup.

“Do you have roses in the garden?”

Of course they did. There was no noble estate with a large garden that didn’t plant roses.

The only difference was how many and who had rarer varieties.
She knew this, but asked naturally to steer the conversation.

“Of course. Do you want to see the rose garden?”

“Yes, if you’ll allow it.”

It was May, the season when roses were in full bloom. She wanted to see the most fragrant roses.

She needed to smell them herself and select the very best.

Sophia glanced out the window. The sky was blue and dotted with white clouds—a beautiful day.

At this time of year, she used to walk through the rose garden every day with Riley, who loved roses so much.

It had already been two years since. She wondered how the roses, having lost their owner, were faring.

“Let’s visit the rose garden tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“It’s past noon now, so tomorrow morning would be better. Roses are best seen in the morning. Their scent is richer and more fragrant then. Some roses only show their best at just the right time—those that bloom in the morning and fade by afternoon must be seen in the morning.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I’ll show you around.”

“Really? Thank you so much!”

Beate responded with a bright smile.

Laura, who had been watching the two from nearby, was delighted as well.

That the marchioness would visit the rose garden again—she was deeply moved. And she wondered,

Could this child really bring about change in the marchioness?