Natasha clapped her hands and exclaimed with delight.

“A wise decision, Countess. Honestly, you are young and beautiful. What man could fail to love you? All of your suitors are fine, distinguished men. There’s no reason to delay.”

“How very noisy.”

“……Pardon?”

“Speaking of another person’s misfortune in that bright, giddy tone. I do not ask for sympathy, but holding your tongue and observing proper decorum seems to me the appropriate conduct for a noblewoman right now.”

At that, Natasha’s face flushed red.

Then large, rolling tears began to fall.

“I only said it because I thought we were in similar positions, both of us alone. I’m the one who feels hurt. The Countess has the recognition of this house, so whichever path you choose will be fine for you, but my Castle and I……”

Natasha could not hold herself together and began to sob.

Angela looked at the woman crying in front of her and spoke.

“Madam. I am well aware that you worry about Castle failing to inherit the Maister comital title if I remain as Countess Maister.”

“……”

Joel, who had held the comital title, was dead. And since she, Countess Maister, had never consummated the marriage, there was naturally no possibility of an heir.

In such circumstances, Natasha’s child might conceivably become the successor.

It was an ambition easy enough to understand.

What was simply absurd was the way she dressed that ambition up in tears.

“That said, it gives you no legitimate grounds to pressure me into remarrying. The matter of who succeeds to the Maister comital title is for the elders of House Maister to decide.”

“But you would have to leave this house once you remarry!”

Insufferably rude. Angela had no wish to fault her for her fallen noble origins, but it was plain she had never been taught even the most basic conduct as a child.

“I can leave this estate without remarrying. Do you recall which house I came from?”

The sharp tone made Natasha shrink for a moment before she let out a shrill cry.

“Then please, go back to that precious Walther ducal house of yours!”

“Madam.”

A lowered voice. Natasha looked up at Angela’s face, now entirely without warmth, and went pale with alarm.

“You have crossed a line. Do you truly believe you have the right to speak to me that way, you who hold no authority whatsoever in this house?”

The voice was not loud, but it carried a clear, unmistakable weight.

Natasha whimpered, casting herself as the victim.

“Are, are you… using your position to… mistreat me……”

“I am simply observing hierarchy, and pointing out your precise place in it. A guest in this comital house has just screamed at its mistress to get out.”

One corner of Angela’s mouth curved upward, and it was not a pleasant expression.

“Is that normal?”

“A guest? So Countess Maister also believes my child is not Charles’s. My child is not proof of infidelity. We have both lost our husbands. Can you not find it in yourself to feel some compassion for me?”

And then, endlessly, she wept and wailed.

Angela was tired.

“You will need those tears before the elders of House Maister, so I suggest you save them. Do not attempt to earn my pity again. You show no sympathy for a woman who buried her husband not long ago.”

“Th, that’s not what I meant, I only thought that since we’ve both lost our husbands……”

“Madam. You and I are not the same. Please find your sense of kinship with your own friends.”

Angela continued, her voice cold.

“We are noblewomen, and as noblewomen, we must conduct ourselves with dignity. Madam.”

Natasha opened and closed her mouth, trying to speak, but the force of it silenced her. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with indignant huffs, and Emily quietly stepped in.

“Madam, Phillip said he was going to look in on Castle. I believe you should go.”

“My Castle can’t do anything without me! I must go.”

Natasha swept away just as she had arrived, entirely on her own terms. The moment the room fell quiet, Emily muttered under her breath.

“There’s no cure for stupidity. Miss, shall we report this to Phillip?”

Angela shook her head.

Having her come and whine was tiresome, but she had no desire to be caught up in talk of having driven out a child who might be her late husband’s nephew, not even a month after his death.

“She does it out of anxiety. Leave her be. I simply want some quiet.”

Natasha stirring up trouble in that manner was nothing new. Beyond the food, shelter, and clothing the Maister household provided out of charity, and raising her child, there was nothing else for her to do within the estate.

“Before the question of paternity, I wonder how she expects a girl to be recognized as heir when she’s raising her as a boy.”

Emily turned to her with wide eyes.

“She’s a girl?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to say something?”

“No.”

Angela tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with unhurried grace. Her silver hair rippled and gleamed like white light. She wore nothing but a plain black mourning dress, not a single ornament, and yet she was pristine.

“I have no taste for pushing someone already in a difficult position. Push a person too far into a corner and they bare their teeth and bite. I see no need to make enemies.”

Refusing to acknowledge someone is not the same as turning sharp edges on them. Giving them just enough of what they need might, in fact, be the surest way to keep them quiet.

“That is so like you, Miss.”

Angela was, for the most part, composed. When others directed excessive emotion at her, she did not take it to heart.

More precisely, she simply did not have enough interest in people to spend that kind of energy on them.

“You are the only one I have told, so if you open your mouth, the rumor will spread at once.”

Angela smiled lightly. Emily stuck out her lower lip.

“That’s unkind, Miss. I have served you faithfully from our days at the Walther marquisal house until now. Has there ever been a time when I spoke carelessly and caused trouble?”

“Ha.”

“Don’t laugh. My Miss relies on her beauty and is far too mean to me.”

“And yet you like me.”

“Yes.”

Life came back into Emily’s eyes.

“Your beauty, your elegance, your composure, the steadiness of an ancient tree that cannot be shaken. I love all of it. There is probably no one in this world who loves you as much as I do.”

Emily’s face lit up as she heaped praise on Angela. Angela replied without much expression.

“Just hearing it is enough to make me grateful.”

Emily placed a hand over her heart and recited with theatrical solemnity:

“Please engrave it upon your heart. That I love and cherish you so deeply.”

“Yes. And since I am grateful for that love, please stop playing around.”

It was something Angela heard from Emily so often that she batted it back lightly, as a joke. She had been embarrassed by Emily’s compliments at first, but after hearing them so many times, she had come to think of them as a harmless bit of flattery from a devoted servant.

“Oh, you noticed? I was mixing in a little flattery to ask for a raise.”

Emily smiled with mischief dancing in her eyes. The look was so endearing that Angela reached out and lightly pinched her nose before letting go.

“Truly. You are hopeless, Emily.”

❀❀❀

Joel.

If things had gone differently, you would have been standing right beside me.

The memory was vivid. Those bright eyes, shining as he spoke of the distinguished merits he had earned as a diplomatic envoy, merits worthy of the Emperor’s recognition. And the light kiss he had pressed to her lips while whispering that they could finally spend their first true night together as husband and wife.

Thinking of Joel, a dull ache settled in the center of her chest.

She had never imagined something this terrible could happen. And on the very first evening after he returned home, no less.

Everyone had an alibi during the estimated time of Joel’s death. She could only feel sorry for Emily, who had gone looking for Joel on her behalf and ended up finding him dead. Angela herself was this shaken, so how great must Emily’s terror have been, having been the first to see the body and even witnessed the back of the killer fleeing. For days after it happened, Emily had barely been able to eat.

Emily had been fourteen when Angela, then sixteen, visited the orphanage and met her. From the very beginning, Emily had taken to Angela with extraordinary devotion.

‘Come to think of it, she was already showering me with that overwhelming affection back then.’

That they would be together forever. That she loved her. That no one in the world could be as beautiful and wonderful as Miss Angela. After hearing such declarations for years, they had come to feel as unremarkable as a morning greeting.