She didn’t say, ‘Then deduct the box seat occupancy fee from my wages,’ because of the petty worry that the occupancy cost might be more expensive than her wages. Bronwynner desperately needed those wages.

He stated firmly:

“Miss Howard, you’ll disappear from the Lovedale family forever in three months. So stop acting like Maude’s governess.”

* * *

Though Bronwynner was exhausted from reassuring the concerned Lady Windell, it had its effect. The feeling of wanting to cry completely disappeared, replaced by extreme fatigue.

“There are some spare nightgowns in the townhouse. Leave your clothes out, and the maid will press them again by tomorrow morning.”

At the countess’s words, Bronwynner asked without thinking,

“Are they Lady Maude’s nightgowns……?”

The countess gave an ambiguous smile.

Only after handing her dress to the maid and receiving the nightgown did Bronwynner understand the meaning of that smile. The nightgown was slightly too large for her, for Lady Windell, and for Maude—likely too large for anyone. So this nightgown was for all ladies, or any lady.

In other words, for ladies the master of the townhouse occasionally brought home…….

Whoever he brought home and dressed or undressed in nightgowns was none of Bronwynner’s business. But if that was the case, she didn’t want to wear these clothes. So she set the nightgown aside and, after some deliberation, put on only the minimum undergarments and covered them with the night robe provided in the guest room. Night robes were common items found in guest rooms not only at Crimsworth Court but also at Baron Bingham’s mansion.

‘I wonder if Maude is all right now?’

She wanted to look in on her before going to bed…….

⌜Stop acting like Maude’s governess.⌟

Bronwynner blinked. Her employer was right. He had hired her as Lady Celestine’s monitor, not as Maude’s governess.

⌜You’ll disappear from the Lovedale family forever in three months.⌟

Disappearing, starting a new life somewhere where no one knew her—that was exactly what Bronwynner wanted. She even felt guilty about deceiving Maude and Lady Windell, who were so kind, with the name “Bronwynner Pemberton.”

But…….

Those two were so gentle.

She thought that even if “Miss Pemberton” suddenly disappeared and they resented her for the deception afterward, she wanted them to treat her kindly now.

She needed warmth and smiles, no matter whose they were.

The room had a fire burning, but the characteristic chill of a long-empty house seeped into the bed. Bronwynner inevitably had a nightmare.

She had created a cozy nest far away from Goldenborough, Bathgate, and Whittingham, when a black-eyed young man came and ardently courted her. No, he persistently pestered her. When she refused him, he drew a long sword, and his black eyes transformed into Alec’s gleaming brown eyes. She screamed and fled through an open door. Above the door was a picture of a deer with antlers.

“You’ll be treated worse than an animal all night. Consider it an honor.”

The glass figurine fell from the fireplace and shattered. Alec collapsed, bleeding, with his skull crushed. She cried as she gathered the pieces of his broken skull. Antlers sprouted from the hole in his head. Something sparkled at the tips of the antlers, and upon closer inspection, they were diamond cufflinks.

“You thief!”

Mrs. Reed, the director of Perth Orphanage, shouted. The woman occasionally accused children of stealing her belongings and punished them by withholding food and beating them. When it was Bronwynner’s turn, instead of apologizing, she found the brooch the woman claimed had disappeared and threw it out the window.

⌜I didn’t steal it. I threw it away.⌟

To answer like she did then, Bronwynner climbed up the antlers. When she threw the cufflinks with all her might, there was a ‘snap!’. Startled by the noise, she woke up. An unfamiliar ceiling appeared above her head. Water droplet-shaped shadows formed on the ceiling.

It took some time to realize that these were reflections of raindrops on the window, and the ‘snap!’ sound was rain hitting the window.

She took a long time to catch her breath.

Her pounding heart and trembling body wouldn’t calm down. The vivid duel scene from the play and the deer picture on the doorframe had revived fading memories and guilt. It felt like a revelation that she couldn’t escape from what she had done. It also seemed like a message sent by Alec’s ghost watching over her.

She shook her head vigorously.

‘It’s all a delusion, Bronwynner Harcourt.’

There was only one way to erase the delusion.

She threw back the blanket.

* * *

Jeremy followed the typical sleep cycle of a young nobleman. That is, his times for falling asleep and waking up were quite irregular.

At Crimsworth, he maintained the habit of waking up early and going for a horseback ride, but not in Whittingham. Thanks to that terrible habit that Her Majesty the Queen described as “hopeless,” he was wide awake with a fairly clear mind even at an hour when everyone else was asleep.

The weather at this time of year was truly capricious.

He was standing by the window when raindrops began hitting it. With a whiskey glass in hand, he was ruminating over the evening’s events.

Two hours ago, Lady Windell had come to tell him that Maude’s condition had completely returned to normal, with no signs of nightmares.

He briefly thanked the countess, who seemed to have something to say, and sent her away. It was probably about “Miss Pemberton.”

Contrary to the countess’s thinking, he considered that he had already said what needed to be said.

Bronwynner was merely his employee, and it was his role as employer to make her keep to her duty.

He hadn’t paid her wages to act as a governess without being asked. Nor had he volunteered to be a guardian so she could go out late at night with men watching plays.

The woman seemed to misunderstand that he was doing this because he begrudged the money, but he had no reason to correct her misconception. Rather, he was irritated that she showed no intention of shedding the provincial air he had told her to get rid of.

Not much, just a little.

‘In three months, I’ll never see her again anyway.’

He refilled his empty glass.

It was then that he noticed a small figure walking into the garden among the trees.

It was a night when the moonlight had vanished due to the suddenly falling rain. He was able to recognize the human shadow only because he had been looking outside long enough for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

He also knew whose shadow it was.

‘Bronwynner Howard.’

That woman occasionally wandered around the garden at Crimsworth Court in the early dawn or late at night, wetting her small feet in the dew for quite some time. He had watched her several times from the window, or through the gaps between the garden trees.

At those times, Bronwynner looked desperate, as if being chased by something. He didn’t acknowledge her, fearing she might be startled and run away. Also, he had no intention of stopping her since walking in the garden was her freedom.

But a rainy night was different.

Moreover, the townhouse garden was currently dug up everywhere to replace the landscaping trees. If she fell and injured herself, her admission to Whitman School would be delayed. That would interfere with his plans, and by extension, Her Majesty the Queen’s plans.

He picked up his coat hanging on the wall.

The townhouse garden could be considered modest in size compared to the one at Crimsworth.

Yet it took Jeremy longer than expected to find Bronwynner. Once outside, it was so dark he could barely distinguish his surroundings. He regretted not bringing a lantern.

“Miss Pemberton.”

He called out in the direction he thought she had gone.

“Are you here……?”

The path that had once been paved with flagstones was now just rainwater and mud, and the holes not yet planted with saplings were filled with water.

Walking between rose saplings that hadn’t yet sprouted new buds, avoiding puddles here and there, he gradually became irritated.

Why did she come out for a walk at this hour and make someone suffer?

His steps halted at the deepest part of the garden, in a small courtyard where baby angel statues gifted by Her Majesty the Queen were clustered together.

Behind the boxwood hedge that surrounded the statues in a semicircle, the hem of a white robe was stretched out on the grass.

“Miss Pemberton.”

As he approached, she spoke softly.

“……Don’t come any closer.”

Her voice was terribly frightened.

His irritation subsided instantly.

“Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?”

He recalled the image of the woman sitting on the carriage floor. Her face had been as pale as Maude’s. That was why he had instinctively sensed something had happened at the theater as soon as he saw her face.

“No. I’m fine.”

She spoke again. She didn’t sound fine at all. It seemed like she might have been crying.

When he took another step forward, she cried out sharply.

“Don’t come, please……!”

Jeremy could have ignored her words and pulled her out from there.

Or he could have turned his back and gone inside, leaving her to get rained on or not.

He was the master of this mansion, her employer, the Duke of Crimsworth. If he accused this woman who had dared to intrude into his garden and shout at him of insulting nobility, he could drive this poor woman into an even more pitiful situation. Then he could make her kneel and beg him to withdraw the charges. Or make her cry with her pretty face contorted.

Occasionally, very rarely, he did think about wanting to see a woman cry like that because of him. It was a strange desire he had only just become aware of.

This was an unfamiliar incident for him. Not that he had developed a desire, but that he had belatedly become aware of it. Even if he felt interest, curiosity, or even lust for this woman, all these were within his control. This was not due to his self-restraint but rather his cognition and discernment, because knowing something allows one to predict, classify, and prevent it.