Chapter 22

After the Duke of Diorne collapsed from a severe illness, rumors had been circulating that Earl Eiden was eyeing his brother’s position. If he could make a good impression, he might secure a substantial share. The physician, quickly calculating, was about to speak when Lennox, who had been gazing down at the Duke as if in another space, turned his head and interjected.

“Don’t you have another appointment?”

“Oh… yes. Then I’ll take my leave.”

The startled physician left the room as if being chased, and the room fell silent. Eiden clicked his tongue and walked to the window, pulling back the curtains.

“The room is dark. Patients need sunlight.”

“It’s getting warmer, so I closed the curtains on purpose.”

“My brother dislikes stuffiness. You know that well, don’t you?”

Lennox did not respond further to his uncle’s words. Eiden, sitting on the opposite bed, looked down at his emaciated brother.

“It seems my brother won’t see the autumn.”

“Don’t speak so definitively. Life doesn’t extinguish so easily.”

“I understand your feelings, but facts are facts.”

Instead of answering, Lennox raised the corners of his mouth. Eiden, facing his nephew, smiled back.

Raised eyebrows with almond-shaped eyes, and cold gray eyes that seemed to look down on others. The Duke’s son was chillingly identical to his father. To the Duke who had cast a large shadow over his head from birth under the name of “older brother.”

“It’s unfortunate for Earl Eiden. The chance to inherit the Duke’s position after his brother’s death is now gone.”

“That’s an odd way to put it. Isn’t it actually something to be grateful for that the Duke, his older brother, passed down the Earl title to him? He should be content with inheriting at least the maternal family’s title, and not be greedy for more.”

“That’s true. Even among second sons, not all are equal. Usually, second sons and below are lucky if they inherit even a small portion of the estate, let alone a title. He’s fortunate to have been born into the ducal family where heirs are scarce.”

Fortunate? Eiden wanted to tear the mouths of those who said such things. How could it be fortunate to stop at Earl when he could have been a Duke?

Lennox Diorne had been an obstacle blocking his path since birth. He had never liked him, even as a child. Perfect in every way. He should have done something about it sooner.

Swallowing bitterness inside, Eiden changed the subject.

“I heard you announced your engagement to the eldest daughter of the Vanetti family. It was news to me.”

Lennox, who was lounging comfortably against the backrest, responded nonchalantly.

“I was planning to tell you after the decision was made, Uncle. I had discussed important matters with Father.”

“Your father is not in a state to make normal judgments now. Your marriage is a major issue for the ducal family, and requires prior consent from the family elders. I am your only uncle.”

Only uncle. At those last words, Lennox crossed his legs. His face looked as if he had heard an unfunny, outdated joke.

“Just a few days ago, Father was conscious and able to converse. You speak as if he’s already a vegetable.”

“Stop playing with words. We both know that your father’s condition is not good. I’m not your friend, I’m your uncle. Show some respect.”

Eiden, who had snapped sharply, pulled out an envelope from his pocket.

“This is your father’s will, which he had notarized in advance. I thought you should see it too, so I brought it.”

Lennox reached out and took it. As he was about to pull out the will from the envelope, an unexpected knock interrupted.

“Young Master. A guest has arrived.”

“Who is it?”

“Miss Harriet from the Vanetti family.”

The mechanical, businesslike smile changed in an instant. While Eiden paused at the sudden change, Lennox, who had risen from his seat, calmly issued a dismissal.

“I’ll review the will and contact you. You must be busy, so please go now.”

* * *

As soon as she faced him, Harriet got straight to the point without preamble.

“It’s best to pretend to date for a while and then break up. Of course, there will be no engagement.”

“Are you flatly rejecting me? I mustered up some courage here.”

Despite the seemingly disappointed words, his expression remained relaxed. Watching him elegantly sip tea, Harriet let out a bemused laugh.

Indeed, Lennox Diorne was a bastard. She felt foolish for worrying about what to do for the past few days.

“Don’t tell such obvious lies. You were impulsive too.”

“I’m more calculated and thorough than you think. Not that you’d care.”

Lennox smiled and clasped his hands on his knee. It was a haughty yet comfortable posture. He was a man who had been a ruler since birth.

Harriet thought anew about the roots of the man before her.

A son born to the Duke, who was in his fifties, from a wife of the same age. The Duchess, though she died from postpartum fever after giving birth, left behind a perfect heir. The Duke cherished his son, raising him with strict love.

Noble and flawless birth, with undeniable ability and beauty. Marianne’s words echoed in Harriet’s mind like a refrain.

Noble blood. The gutter.

If she were a rat from the gutter, he was a hawk soaring high in the sky. The gap was not just a mismatch but a level where they shouldn’t have even crossed paths. It wasn’t just because of her hidden birth. She had the blemish of a broken engagement and a flamboyant history with men. Compared to Lennox, who had never had even a minor scandal, gossip about her spread endlessly from reputable newspapers to cheap tabloids.

“Why did you leave so abruptly that day?”

“That…”

Lennox, who had momentarily fallen silent, hesitated unusually. Harriet watched him intently as he seemed to be deeply contemplating something.

“If it’s difficult to explain, you don’t have to.”

“Seeing it directly would be better.”

Lennox interrupted her and stood, extending a hand. As Harriet hesitated under his gaze, which told her to take his hand and stand, a gentle touch grasped her elbow and lifted her.

“What are we seeing? Where are we going?”

“To Father’s room.”

“What?”

Now? 

Harriet’s eyes wavered aimlessly. The Maritime King. The dictator on the waters. A man of extraordinary achievements and a plethora of legendary nicknames. Suddenly meeting the Duke of Diorne, who rarely showed his face even at official events?

“So suddenly? I…”

“It’s okay. He’s asleep anyway.”

“Asleep?”

Meeting him for the first time by barging into his bedroom? 

Harriet shook her head in shock. As she tried to step back, a firm hand wrapped around her shoulder. Lennox leaned down and whispered quietly.

“You’ll understand when you see.”

His voice was strangely trustworthy, leaving no room for further argument. In a daze, Harriet found herself standing before the bedroom door, passing by several maids.

“Father.”

After knocking a few times, Lennox opened the door without waiting. Harriet’s shoulders tensed as he gently massaged them, not too hard.

Taking a deep breath, Harriet stepped into the room. She saw a bed with curtains drawn, and someone was lying inside.

“Father.”

When he called again, there was an unexpected response. The figure inside the curtains raised an arm. Gesturing for them to come closer, Lennox led Harriet to the bed.

“P-pleased to meet you, Your Grace, Duke. I’m Harriet Coco Vanetti.”

Harriet, unable to meet his gaze, fixed her eyes on the floor and clasped her trembling hands. She sensed something was amiss when she heard a low breathing sound instead of a reply.

Lennox, taking a step closer to his father in the silence, bent down and placed his ear near the Duke’s lips.

In the next moment, Harriet, who had belatedly raised her head, widened her eyes.

The Duke of Diorne, who was said to be robust and healthy for his age, was now a patient with a clear sickly appearance. His emaciated arm looked as fragile as a bare tree branch in early winter, and the outlines visible under the thin blanket were so thin that it was hard to find any trace of flesh.

It was strange. Contrary to rumors of his tall stature and strong build, he seemed the opposite. Unable to speak, the Duke frequently closed his lips as if even talking was difficult. After a long while, Lennox straightened up and relayed his father’s words.

“He says he remembers seeing you when you were young. He wants to see you more closely, so please come nearer.”

“Ah. Okay.”

Forgetting her usual formality in front of others, Harriet found herself stepping closer to the Duke.

“Your Grace?”

His gray eyes, lined with wrinkles yet still wise and dignified, carefully examined her face. The Duke beckoned with a bony finger, and Harriet, as if drawn, leaned forward just as Lennox had done. With labored breaths, the Duke murmured,

“You resemble Margaret.”

Margaret. The unexpected name made Harriet inhale sharply.