Singing, on the other hand, was something she could always do without expensive instruments like pianos. She had a naturally good tone and a decent sense of pitch and rhythm. Though she couldn’t be an opera singer, after hearing her sing, Baroness Bingham had asked her to perform one song at every mansion party. For this, the governess had taught her several arias.

The young nanny’s singing was popular among guests. During her performances, Alec Bingham would sit in the front row, alternately staring at her face and chest with a sticky gaze until the song ended……

‘I shouldn’t think about that now.’

Bronwynner composed herself.

“I’d be delighted to sing for both of you.”

* * *

⌜Miss Pemberton has remarkable talent for singing. Come see her music lesson sometime⌟

Jeremy had considered Countess Windell’s words mere courtesy. Without disrespecting the nanny profession, he couldn’t expect musical value in songs sung to infants who couldn’t even express themselves properly.

As the ducal heir, he had received the kingdom’s highest level of education. Naturally, he possessed the resulting artistic sensibility and aesthetic judgment. Though not particularly passionate about music, he could distinguish good music from bad. When something was good, he could evaluate why and express appropriate appreciation.

So when Bronwynner began singing to Devon’s accompaniment, he unconsciously leaned forward.

Her normal speaking voice had a soft, comfortable tone rather than being bright and lively like birdsong, though its clear timbre made it pleasant to hear.

When melody flowed through Bronwynner’s voice, that timbre finally displayed its exceptional power. Devon had chosen a lyrical aria, which Bronwynner understood very well and knew how to sing. However, knowing doesn’t always mean doing well. She performed not just accurately, but even better than her knowledge would suggest. This wasn’t something achievable merely through excellent teaching.

In other words, she truly had ‘talent.’

Jeremy didn’t need to feel the thrill that audiences experience when amateur singers in society showcase their skills, wondering when they might make a mistake.

Even when Devon deliberately played the accompaniment slightly wrong at the climax, Bronwynner hit the correct note, and during the few seconds when a flustered Devon tried to regain her composure, she skillfully led the piece.

Jeremy regretted that no other young ladies were present. If they had been, they would have gotten the impression that Miss Pemberton had gracefully covered Lady Devon’s mistake, which would have raised Bronwynner’s score.

He glanced sideways at Francine Whitman.

The old lady’s rigid expression was the most hopeful sign possible.

With satisfaction, he listened to the aria melody that filled the room.

* * *

“Don’t turn your head.”

Because Jeremy said this, Bronwynner kept her head stiffly raised, looking straight ahead.

The two were leaving the entrance of the Whitman townhouse after finishing the long interview.

Though called a townhouse, the mansion was grand enough to be converted into a school. It truly overflowed with the majesty of a family responsible for half of Lennox’s cotton production. As if to boast this fact, the wide entrance doors that opened on both sides and the large windows in the hall were all kept wide open, making the two visible from anywhere.

Young ladies around Bronwynner’s age poked their heads out of windows one by one, showing obvious curiosity.

She felt gazes landing on her face, her dress, and her gloved hand resting on Jeremy’s arm. She had never experienced being the center of attention from about twenty young women at once. The distance to the carriage parked outside the main gate felt like a mile. She moved her legs mechanically.

When stepping down from the last stair onto the ground, she finally stumbled, catching her foot in the hem of her dress.

Jeremy quickly caught her. She expected him to harshly criticize or mock her as usual, asking if she really intended to find a good husband, but he was surprisingly quiet.

She looked up at him involuntarily.

Their eyes met.

“Where did you learn to sing?”

“Just…… at the place I worked.”

She evaded.

He simply stared at her silently for a while. She couldn’t understand the meaning of his question at all.

‘Was it that bad?’

Bronwynner thought she had sung quite well, considering how nervous she was.

At least when she sang, even Baroness Bingham had praised her……

No one offered even a polite compliment, which deflated her spirits slightly.

She had heard the Whitman School had just over thirty students, but young ladies seemed to emerge endlessly from everywhere. Two women strolling in the garden bravely greeted Jeremy.

“Lord Crimsworth! Hello.”

Immediately, his expressionless face transformed into a sociable smile.

“Hello, Lady Jemima Laurel. Lady Annie Moonstone.”

Though he seemed intelligent, Bronwynner was amazed that he could address women who had suddenly approached him without any hesitation. He normally appeared uninterested in others.

Jemima, or perhaps Annie, said,

“We haven’t seen Lady Maude lately. Please bring your sister to Whittingham more often.”

“I’ll certainly tell Maude that you both wish to see her. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

With that, he resumed walking.

His stride, which seemed unlikely to stop even if the headmistress called after him, finally halted at the main gate.

The gatekeeper opened the gate for them. Simultaneously, a carriage pulled up and stopped. It was as large and splendid as the Lovedale family carriage. The coat of arms painted on its door looked somehow familiar.

Bronwynner remembered where she had seen it. The emblem had definitely been in the nobility guide of Lennox she had studied in preparation for admission. Quite near the front, too.

‘Ah, the Harrows family’s……’

Soon, she easily guessed the identity of the woman who alighted from the carriage.

The black and beige striped pattern that Madame Floss had wanted to dress Bronwynner in seemed to have gone to Lady Celestine Harrows. Celestine carried this supposedly latest fashion trend very elegantly.

With light brown curls draped over her shoulders, a lovely heart-shaped face, and bright turquoise eyes shining above it, she gave an impression of innocence. Her beauty was indeed comparable to Lady Devon’s. Bronwynner simply admired her, trying not to glance toward what Maude had called ‘Lady Celestine’s amazing chest.’

Celestine had a clear voice like silver beads rolling. And, she was not meeting Jeremy for the first time.

“Lord Crimsworth! It’s been a while.”

Celestine smiled with her eyes.

“Lady Celestine.”

Jeremy removed his arm from Bronwynner and, unlike earlier, bowed to the woman with perfect courtesy.

“Are you coming from the palace?”

“Yes, I’ve just been to see His Highness Reginald and Her Highness Berenice.”

Celestine smiled shyly. Now Bronwynner understood why Maude had said Celestine was kinder than Devon. While Devon’s smile was utterly dry, Celestine’s at least contained some emotion.

That is, a sense of superiority not completely hidden behind her shy smile.

Of course, being practically engaged to His Highness the crown prince and thus permitted to visit the palace, it was natural to feel superior. Bronwynner wondered how she would react if she discovered her real purpose.

Celestine turned her eyes slightly toward Bronwynner.

“This young lady must be Miss Pemberton, who’s causing such a stir in Whittingham lately. Won’t you introduce us?”

Jeremy maintained his smile, but Bronwynner somehow got the impression he was reluctant.

“My ward, Miss Bronwynner Pemberton. From the Viscount Pemberton family of Goldenborough. Miss Pemberton, this is Lady Celestine Harrows, the only daughter of Edward Harrows, Duke of Wormley.”

Bronwynner curtsied.

“Hello, Lady Celestine. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Celestine looked her over. Unlike her smiling, pure face, her turquoise eyes weren’t smiling.

“Hello. Will Miss Pemberton be taking classes with us here?”

“I hope so.”

“I do hope that wish comes true.”

Celestine said quite affectionately, with the kindness a duke’s daughter might show to someone far below her in status and quality.

Now Bronwynner understood why Devon and Celestine were called the twin pillars of Whittingham society. If Devon was a splendid rose, Celestine was a pure lily. Standing side by side, Devon might catch the eye more, but Celestine was the type of beauty whose absence would be felt more strongly when she wasn’t there.

Either way, they were both so beautiful that Bronwynner could only try not to stare openly.

However, Jeremy’s perspective as Bronwynner’s escort was somewhat different.

Devon certainly flaunted beauty worthy of the name “Rose of Whitman.” She was born that way, raised that way, and adorned that way, so it was natural. Just as he never deeply admired his own dazzling appearance and the sophisticated manners that enhanced it, he felt the same about Devon.

The same applied to Celestine. The innocence praised as being like a lily blooming in a valley was achieved through ducal money, strict education, and her own tearful efforts. Of course, he had no intention of disparaging this. Beautiful things are beautiful, regardless of how they’re created. Whether woman or man, it was well worth sacrificing for.

However, Devon and Celestine didn’t inspire any special emotion in him.

On the other hand, Bronwynner Howard……

He remembered the shabby woman he had seen at the station.

Now she was dressed in such a noble and luxurious manner that it was hard to believe she was the same person. The deep blue silk wrapped snugly around her slender body from her thin neck to her wrists, with white lace decorating the chest area to give an even more modest impression.

The clothes he had personally selected all suited her well. And regardless of what she wore, her freshness like a white hydrangea soaked in water, her delicate charm resembling a bright red poppy, stood out even among the pretty young ladies of the Whitman School. No one could match her delicate features or luscious hair.

When she wore green velvet, her moss-like eyes stood out; in ivory muslin, her milky skin was highlighted; and in blue silk, an alluring dignity was added to her slender body.

Honestly, she had a very beautiful body. Occasionally when he recalled the sensation of holding her while dancing the waltz the other day, a subtle yet firm heat would rise from somewhere in his body. That sensation made him quite uncomfortable.

“Lord Crimsworth. When can we meet again?”

Celestine’s ingratiating question interrupted his contemplation. He didn’t fall for her clever attempt to exclude Bronwynner.

“There will be an opportunity to formally introduce Miss Pemberton to you soon.”