Chapter 9

Her throat, caught off guard, kept coughing uncontrollably. Helen’s face turned bright red in embarrassment.

“It was a joke. We agreed to forget about it, didn’t we?”

Raymond, who seemed amused by her reaction, smiled faintly the next moment. He held something out to her.

“Take this. It’s too far to walk.”

How he knew she had been pickpocketed was a mystery. The amount of money he handed her was far more than what a carriage fare would cost.

“This is too much…”

“Just take it.”

Even when she tried to return it, Raymond repeatedly shook his head. In the end, Helen gave up and accepted the money, offering a suggestion.

“If it’s alright, let’s go back together.”

“Why?”

“Henry’s been waiting for you.”

Raymond shook his head again.

“I’d like to, but I have something to take care of.”

“Then when will you come back?”

The question came out impulsively. Whenever she stood in front of this man, her mouth seemed to move on its own. Raymond stared at her with an unreadable expression for a moment before asking back.

“Why are you curious about that?”

It was a question without malice or kindness. Her mouth went dry. The excuse she eventually came up with was, once again, cowardly and involved her student.

“Henry.”

“…”

“He’s worried.”

“Ah.”

Raymond smiled as if he’d decided to let it slide and replied, 

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll attend the memorial service.”

At that moment, a carriage approached and came to a stop. Raymond escorted Helen to the carriage before turning away.

His previously gentle expression suddenly turned blank and emotionless. A man who had been watching him from a distance approached.

“Mr. Somerset.”

Raymond turned around. The lawyer, his face filled with curiosity, asked, 

“That woman just now…?”

“She’s my brother’s tutor.”

Raymond dismissed the question curtly and shifted his gaze to the documents the lawyer was holding.

“You’re back sooner than I thought. I expected it would take some time.”

“The bank officer happened to be available.”

She doesn’t seem like just a tutor. 

Glen swallowed the words to himself.

—Damn it.

His face, which had been twisted in frustration, was now eerily calm. It was inside a filthy inn in the slums, chosen for its secrecy. Raymond, who had been staring out the window, suddenly stood up as if he’d seen a ghost. Before Glen could question him, Raymond announced.

—I’ll step out for a moment. You’ll need to go to the bank anyway.

—Ah… Yes.

Watching Raymond leave without even grabbing his coat, Glen had been puzzled. Raymond Campbell Somerset was not a morally upright man despite his angelic appearance. He was even less likely to be someone who would go out of his way to save a stranger in trouble. That mystery only deepened when Raymond escorted the woman all the way to the carriage stop.

“There aren’t any legal issues?”

“None, but…”

Glen hesitated before adding quietly, 

“Aren’t you a bit too young to be writing a will?”

The contents were incomprehensible as well.

Raymond Campbell Somerset’s will stated that, upon his death, all assets, including those from his maternal and paternal families, would be inherited by Henry Gordon Somerset. The inherited assets could not be passed on to anyone else, and Glen Jude, as the executor of the will, would manage them until Henry reached adulthood.

“There are still two years left before you inherit the family fortune. And if you have a fiancée…”

“It’s better to prepare in advance. You never know when or how someone’s life might end. Besides, the fiancée—”

Raymond, watching the passing carriages, replied, 

“That will be resolved soon.”

Diana’s father, Baron Sendil, was a man of great pride. If rumors spread that his future son-in-law had a mistress, he wouldn’t tolerate it.

—I’ve heard rumors about an inappropriate relationship with a back-alley singer.

—Rumors sometimes turn out to be true.

—I understand it’s just a passing fancy.

—…

—Actors, singers, and models, regardless of gender, are often promiscuous. You, too, might have been caught up in such an improper relationship in your youth. I was no different.

The initial plan had failed spectacularly. Remembering the face of Baron Sendil, who had patted him on the back as if forgiving him, made Raymond feel nauseous.

—Just make sure Diana doesn’t hear about it. I trust everything will be sorted out before the wedding.

And then, a thought struck him.

What if the woman in question wasn’t a singer or a model but a mere, insignificant tutor? A woman with no family background, beauty, or honor to compare to his daughter?

If his pride led him to break off the engagement, that would be ideal. Even if not, it would still be a blow to both the Earl of Somerset and Baron Sendil.

The reason the hiring conditions for Henry’s tutor included “not being beautiful” was precisely for this purpose.

“You’re not thinking of doing something terrible, are you…?”

“I’m simply using everything I can.”

Raymond replied to the lawyer, who spoke with concern.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

—Are you okay?

The plan was going smoothly. The hand that clung to his neck had trembled slightly. When he saw the woman surrounded by thugs, his heart had sunk—not because he cared, but because he didn’t want a useful tool to be ruined. That was all it was.

A woman to use and discard.

The faint scent of grass lingering near his nose momentarily unsettled him. Just for a moment.

***

The next day, the memorial service for the late Countess Charlotte Hendel Somerset’s 8th death anniversary was held solemnly and quietly.

The Earl and Countess, dressed in mourning clothes, sat in the front row with Henry beside them. Helen’s gaze shifted slightly to the side. An empty seat.

—Tell Henry I’ll see him at the memorial service.

An altar boy carried holy water up to the altar. The priest, who received it, sprinkled it lightly and began reciting scripture.

“No one among us lives for themselves, and no one dies for themselves. Whether we live, we live for the Lord; whether we die, we die for the Lord….”

The voice gradually faded from her ears. In the solemn atmosphere, women relatives wearing veils and men bowing their heads in mourning came into view.

Through the ornate stained glass depicting the thirteen saints, slanted winter sunlight streamed in. Turning toward the entrance, she saw Raymond Somerset dressed in a black suit.

Swept-back blonde hair and calm blue eyes. Even among the crowd, his face stood out immediately. Helen’s gaze fixed on him. Just as she thought he was heading to his seat, he leaned casually against the back row.

“The late Charlotte Hendel Somerset was known for her gentle and deep character, earning the affection of those around her. Eight years ago, she was called to the Lord’s embrace….”

Ten minutes. That was all it took. Without a sound, Raymond stood and left the chapel. A murmur spread briefly among the mourners but quickly subsided. Helen rose from her seat without realizing it. Fortunately, sitting on the edge, she didn’t draw attention.

Kaya, the head cook sitting beside her, grabbed her arm.

“Helen, where are you going?”

“I need to take care of something.”

She had to follow him. No other thought came to mind. Helen lifted her skirt slightly to avoid making noise and walked quickly. She opened the arched door and scanned her surroundings. In the distance, she saw him boarding a carriage.

“Mr. Raymond!”

Out of breath, she ran toward him. He turned his head.

“Helen.”

“You said you’d see Henry before you left.”

“Seeing him from afar was enough.”

“How is that seeing him? Henry’s been waiting for you.”

“Is that all you wanted to say?”

She recalled Henry’s face lighting up instantly when she relayed Raymond’s words. It might not have been the only reason, but she ignored that thought. Helen frowned and demanded.

“How can you break your promise and still call yourself his brother?”

“Indeed.”

Her words, meant to provoke guilt, were met with a lighthearted response. Tilting his head, Raymond muttered.

“But playing the good brother gets tiresome sometimes.”

“What are you…”

A voice from inside the carriage interrupted her.

“Ray? What’s going on?”

It was the same woman’s voice she had heard on the first day. Helen’s expression slowly cracked. Watching her reaction as if savoring it, Raymond turned his head.

“It’s nothing—”

Thud.

“Hypocrite.”

“…”

Helen tossed his hat at him as if throwing it away and warned through gritted teeth.

“I thought you were a kind brother. I despise people like you, who are two-faced.”

She turned around, her hands trembling. An inexplicable nausea and the brief trust she had built up over that short time rose bitterly in her throat. Her chest felt tight.

Behind her, the sound of the coachman cracking the whip echoed.

As if a storm was about to break, rain began to fall in large droplets, quickly turning into a downpour. Before she could get drenched, she stumbled back toward the chapel.

“Helen.”

A wide umbrella formed above her head.

“…”

“Why did you ask yesterday if I was okay?”

The man holding his coat above her like an umbrella whispered. His voice, slightly cracked, was different from usual.

Swallowing her wet breaths, Helen replied.

“…You didn’t look okay.”

Her words were half-drowned by the sound of rain pouring down. And the pounding of her heart.