Chapter 7.3

Seated at the grand piano, much larger than the upright piano she was used to practicing on, Natalie looked smaller than ever. Her hunched shoulders carried the burden of heavy worries. 

Edgar’s entire focus was consumed by her distress. Introductions of various family members, Mrs. Mars’s words of gratitude, and even the Duke’s daughter blocking his path—all of it flowed in one ear and out the other. 

He couldn’t say anything to Natalie before her performance began. Edgar grew tense as he watched Natalie’s anxious expression, unconsciously clenching his fists and rubbing the edge of his lips nervously.

He knew exactly which sections she struggled with and where her mistakes were most frequent. As those sections approached, Edgar unknowingly held his breath, releasing it only when Natalie successfully navigated the difficult parts. Though he had assisted many performers on stage before, he had never been this nervous.

He forgot who the performance was for—none of that mattered. The goal wasn’t perfection. Mistakes didn’t matter. All Edgar wished for was Natalie’s well-being.

As much as she had practiced, Natalie hoped to complete her performance successfully, to receive the applause she deserved, and to feel joy. She wished for the day to leave no scars, instead becoming a tale of adventure she could recount with laughter. She thought Edgar would gladly listen to that story as many times as she wished. 

The performance moved toward its end, the sound of the final piano key softly resonating in the silence. Finally, the performance concluded. 

Edgar applauded without hesitation, and Natalie smiled. Seeing her smile, Edgar leaned against the wall, his tension melting away. As he unclenched his hands, deep nail marks remained on his palms, and a delayed, stinging pain followed. Yet, a smile lingered on his lips.

Edgar had many things he wanted to say to Natalie. His mouth was full of praises. The sound of applause spread through the room like ripples. Suddenly, the applause stopped. It was the moment Olivia spoke.

“Seating an unskilled performer is an insult to the guests who took the time to attend.”

A quiet commotion filled the drawing room.

Edgar knew well how unsettling hushed remarks could be. Words left vague often took on negative shapes, sometimes becoming the very criticisms he feared most. 

Like the silent reproach Edgar had felt before when sitting at the piano, hearing Frederick Sop’s unspoken judgment: “You’re not a proper Young Master.”

While Mrs. Mars fidgeted, unable to protect the young lady she had seated at the piano, Natalie paled as she bore the brunt of the criticism alone. Her gaze wandered, scanning the crowd as though she were surrounded by haunting specters.

Edgar moved toward the piano. As he passed through the crowd and stood between the piano and the audience, the attention directed at Natalie shifted to him.

“Miss Maron’s performance was flawless.”

Edgar calmly met the eyes of each person in the room. When standing one against many, people were quick to criticize, but they softened upon realizing that someone was watching them closely.

Edgar smiled at the guests as their murmurs quieted.

“Even the improvisational elements were perfect. A performer’s virtue lies in delivering subtle variations to keep their audience engaged. If her performance felt too short…”

Edgar turned his smiling gaze toward Olivia.

“It seems Miss Maron’s playing captivated you so thoroughly that you lost track of time.”

Olivia’s expression clearly showed her displeasure, but Edgar paid no mind. Turning to Mrs. Mars, he continued.

“Lady Daity is truly fortunate. She has someone willing to assist her at any time. Having such an exceptional acquaintance by your side is certainly something to be proud of.”

Mrs. Mars shed her earlier embarrassment and responded with a bright smile. She wrapped her arms around Natalie’s shoulders in an exaggeratedly affectionate gesture.

“Of course! I’m deeply grateful to Miss Maron.”

Natalie, seemingly uncomfortable with Mrs. Mars standing so close, offered an awkward smile. Still, the pallor had faded from her face, replaced by a hint of vitality. Mrs. Mars patted Natalie’s shoulder and helped her rise from her seat. Meanwhile, the violinist, who had been waiting for his turn, raised his bow again.

But Olivia appeared to have more to say.

“In that case… could we ask Miss Maron for one more piece? Surely a talented performer like Miss Maron knows more than one song.”

Time seemed to freeze as the violinist, Mrs. Mars, and Natalie all stopped in their tracks.

Natalie had only practiced one song. There was nothing else for her to play.

Edgar saw through Olivia’s intentions. If Mrs. Mars had hoped to present Natalie as a refined candidate for marriage, Olivia wanted to expose that refinement as nothing more than a hastily prepared facade.

But there was no need to comply with such unreasonable demands. Natalie wasn’t a hired performer brought in to entertain the Duke’s daughter.

Edgar prepared to defend Natalie once more. However, it turned out to be unnecessary.

“I only know one song.”

Natalie’s clear voice gently broke the silence in the drawing room. Rising from her seat, she faced Olivia with composure.

“If you tell me the song you’d like to hear, I’ll practice it and play it for you next time. I’m confident in my ability to practice.”

It was evident that no one in the room had expected such a response. Olivia, caught off guard, seemed at a loss for words.

As the silence stretched on, a gentleman awkwardly clapped at an odd moment. Others nearby followed suit, and soon applause filled the room again. Natalie, like a courteous performer, lifted the hem of her dress and curtsied.

Miss Maron, who always defied expectations, was undoubtedly a remarkably clever young lady.

At long last, the violinist placed his bow on the strings. Natalie stepped aside and returned to her place as a guest, heading toward the wall. Edgar followed her.

As Natalie made her way past the crowd to the window, she suddenly slipped behind the curtain.

Edgar paused, puzzled by her behavior. Behind him, the skilled violin melody flowed, while before him, Natalie’s small figure was visible, concealed behind the curtain.

It felt like a game of hide-and-seek where he wasn’t supposed to find her. Unsure whether he should draw the curtain aside, Edgar stood hesitantly.

“…Natalie?”

“…”

Edgar hesitated before reaching out to the curtain. As he gently pulled it back, he found the young lady hiding within. She had her face buried in her hands, her shoulders hunched.

Was she crying?

Edgar hurried toward Natalie, the curtain falling softly around them.

“Natalie.”

As Edgar tilted his head to examine her, Natalie lowered her hands. Their gazes met at close range.

Her calm, blinking eyes showed no trace of tears. Edgar sighed in relief. He welcomed her gaze and held it steadily.

“There’s no problem, is there?”

Edgar brushed his fingers softly against Natalie’s eyes, as though wiping away nonexistent tears. As she blinked, her eyelashes tickled his fingertips.

“…My heart is racing too much.”

Natalie spoke softly, her voice carrying the tremor of her breath. It seemed she had hidden behind the curtain to calm herself.

Edgar chuckled quietly.

“For someone whose heart is racing, you spoke quite well.”

Natalie’s gaze, as she looked up at Edgar, reminded him of a rabbit cautiously peeking out of its burrow. The image brought an irrepressible smile to his face.

Natalie studied Edgar quietly before speaking again.

“You can’t win against someone who acts confidently.”

Her clear words reminded Edgar of something he had said before. Realizing she was echoing his own words, Edgar’s expression turned momentarily dazed. Seeing this, Natalie smiled faintly.

Edgar couldn’t look away from the delicate smile blooming like a flower.

“I’m proud to have such a remarkable student.”

Edgar’s gaze drifted from Natalie’s eyes to her lips. He noticed a small wound on her lips. Placing his fingertips over the injury, Natalie winced slightly from the pain and scrunched her eyes.

As she turned her head to avoid his touch, Edgar examined the wound quietly. Then, leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her injured lips.

Edgar gently brushed his tongue against the wound, tasting the metallic tang that spread in his mouth as though the wound had transferred to him. 

Slowly, he withdrew his lips. His gaze met Natalie’s startled eyes. Her expression, frozen in shock, made him wonder if she was even breathing.

Edgar whispered softly, 

“Behind the curtain, it’s just the two of us, isn’t it?” 

Natalie didn’t reply but instead took shallow breaths, as though she had been holding them. Whether it was the aftermath of the piano performance or her racing heart, as she claimed, her cheeks were flushed red. Edgar chuckled lightly and kissed her cheek. Natalie quickly raised her hand to stop him.

Even as her hands pushed against his chest, Edgar didn’t retreat. He planted kisses on her nose, her eyes, her cheeks, and the corners of her lips, causing Natalie to squint her eyes and giggle from the ticklish sensation.

“Stop…” 

Natalie murmured, shaking her head. Edgar followed her movements, kissing wherever he could—her round nose, her soft cheeks. 

“That…” 

Perhaps she was trying to say “That’s enough,” but Edgar didn’t give her the chance, kissing her lips again. Natalie squirmed, clutching at Edgar’s coat, unable to push him away. Edgar laughed like a child enjoying a mischievous game.