“What is it?”

At the whisper, the maid across from her perked up, and Bella’s attention shifted to her as well.

“She originally came in as the young lady’s maid, but she got caught flirting with the young master by the mistress and was kicked out to the dowager’s estate!”

“Really?”

“They say it wasn’t just the young master. She was famous for fawning over the other male servants too.”

That she had deliberately approached the young master…

It was a ridiculous rumor.

When the Dowager moved to Netherwell, Bella simply went with her, having been staying at the estate with the Count’s family. That was all. Yet while she was staying with the Dowager, the gossip spiraled out of control, growing and twisting until it was accepted as fact.

Bella had only learned today that such things were being whispered about her behind her back.

No one had ever told her.

“This is why attachment is frightening. The only reason she hasn’t been dismissed is because she’s been working here since she was little.”

“If it were us, we would’ve been thrown out the day His Grace assigned her as his personal maid.”

“Maybe she flirted with His Grace too?”

“Um… actually, I don’t remember anything. Maybe if I kiss His Grace, my memory will come back?”

The maid who said that put on an affected, coquettish tone.

“Hahaha! If I’d known, I would’ve pretended to lose my memory too!”

The maids burst into laughter as they entered the bedroom. Only after the door had shut behind them did Bella finally release the breath she had been holding.

Despite having heard such cruel things, anger was no longer her initial reaction.

It was helplessness.

Since childhood, Bella had always been alone. The servants in the Count’s household constantly changed. Occasionally, she would grow close to someone, but none of them ever stayed. Whenever a servant who had befriended her left, the rumors about her seemed to multiply.

She had tried to explain. She insisted it was unfair.

But the more she spoke, the colder their eyes became.

When she was younger, those looks had hurt.

Now, she understood.

They had never cared about the truth.

After eating the cold bread, Bella sat on the dark stairway for a long time. Only after ensuring that no one was nearby did she quietly get up and slip away.

***

“What difference does it make if the Duke arrived at the Count’s residence before anyone else? He wasn’t there on the most important day anyway. I told everyone he would be attending the birthday banquet, so what am I supposed to say now?”

By the morning of the event, there was still no word from the Duke.

Amelia, who had stayed up all night waiting for Logan’s call, dragged her exhausted body over to the dressing table and sat down. She had barely slept, and her skin looked dull and drained, so she applied a heavy layer of make-up to hide this.

“They said something urgent came up at the hotel. I’m sure there was a reason he had no choice but to leave. Vincent went with His Grace as well, so let’s wait until we hear something.”

“How am I supposed to explain anything when I don’t even know why he left? The moment they see me, they’ll ask where the duke is. I’m so humiliated that I don’t even want to greet anyone.”

Amelia stamped her foot, her irritation plain to see.

Such a sour expression was unacceptable for greeting guests on a day of celebration, so the Countess stood close by, repeatedly trying to calm her down. But nothing seemed enough to soothe Amelia’s wounded pride.

If only he had sent a message to explain what had happened! Yet, despite everyone’s anxious waiting, the telephone on the estate remained stubbornly silent.

“What did she say?”

“She says she hasn’t heard anything else.”

“She’s his personal maid, isn’t she? What does she actually know? Useless, even at a time like this. Add more volume to my hair. The crown is too flat—it looks dreadful.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Ha… Nothing is going the way I want. This is the worst.”

When the head maid replied obediently, Amelia snapped, throwing the fan she had been holding onto the floor.

She was wearing a bespoke gown that had been ordered months in advance, and the expensive jewelry her father had given her for her birthday sparkled around her neck and wrists. Yet none of it could lift her spirits.

As the carriages arrived one after another, she reluctantly stepped outside to greet the guests, forcing a stiff, unnatural smile onto her face.

Just as she had feared, more people inquired about the duke’s whereabouts than offered her congratulations on her birthday. She repeated that His Grace had stepped away due to urgent matters at the hotel, but the doubtful looks on their faces made it clear that few believed her.

In the cold world of high society, silence bred suspicion, and the slightest hint of it inevitably led to gossip. It would not be long before rumors began to circulate about an engagement in which the couple had never appeared together in public.

Beneath the quiet, unspoken mockery, Amelia struggled desperately to maintain her composure.

She could not allow the birthday she had anticipated for so long to turn into the worst day of her life.

All she could do now was wait for the duke to return.

***

Fortunately, Bellington, the town where the accident had occurred, was close to Rosedale.

News that the Duke of Fraser was going to visit had attracted hordes of reporters to the town. As his vehicle pulled up outside the hotel, a group of journalists clutching notebooks and pens surged forward.

“Your Grace, Duke of Fraser! What do you believe caused the hotel fire?”

“Do you believe it was arson?”

“Please, just a word!”

“Gentlemen, His Grace has only just arrived. Please wait for an official statement.”

The reporters surged forward in a wave, following the group all the way to the entrance. Vincent stepped in front of the doors, blocking their path. Meanwhile, Logan pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring everyone, and headed straight for the scene.

“The situation?”

“One fatality. One employee suffered burns while extinguishing the fire, but the injuries are not serious.”

The manager followed close behind, continuing his report. The tension on his face made the gravity of the situation clear.

The fire broke out in a detached annexe that was separate from the main building. Fortunately, the gardener spotted it early on and managed to extinguish it quickly. The damage is minimal. As instructed, guests staying in nearby rooms have been upgraded and have agreed to extend their stay.”

His explanation faded as they arrived at the site, where blackened walls bore witness to the fire.

Logan stepped over the charred debris and entered the building.

The first thing he noticed inside the smoke-filled room was a body lying beneath a white sheet.

“Peloce Patrick. Forty-one years old. A coal merchant, primarily active on the eastern continent. He arrived in the West a week ago and has been staying at our hotel for the past three days.”

When the manager pulled back the sheet, the body underneath was completely blackened by fire, making it almost impossible to confirm its identity.

Logan’s gaze fixed on the corpse.

It was curled up as if in agony, consumed by flames. Even the mouth was slightly ajar.

Logan knew this kind of body well.

If he closed his eyes, he could see it with brutal clarity, as though it had happened only yesterday.

The smoke searing his lungs.

The red-stained sky.

The flames that had consumed the estate, reducing even its sturdy pillars to rubble.

“Water! Bring more water!”

“There are still people trapped inside!”

“Anne! Peter! Derek!!”

“What do we do…?”

Amid the thunderous crash of the building collapsing, screams pierced the air. Men shouted at the top of their lungs as they threw water at the flames, while desperate voices called out the names of those out of sight. The fire consuming the estate seemed to echo their despair, roaring more fiercely in the night wind.

“Thank goodness… Thank goodness. Logan, if I had lost you too, I…”

He saw his younger self, wrapped in a blanket and staring blankly at the crumbling estate while his mother clung to him, sobbing. His father was found among the ashes, holding a single button in his hand.

Young Logan did nothing but watch the fire burn itself out after it had consumed everything.

All he could do was curse his own helplessness and vow to become strong enough to prevent it from ever happening again.

“Your Grace?”

Logan, who had been swallowed by the specter of a past he could not escape, turned at the sound of his name.

It was the manager.

“How do you intend to address the press?”

Noticing the distant look in the Duke’s eyes, the manager hurried to explain. A statement had to be issued before the waiting reporters started to speculate.

“Tell them it was an accidental fire. The guest had been trying to light the stove. Say that the investigation will be handled directly by Fraser Enterprises.”

Composed once more, Logan delivered his instructions in a calm, measured tone. He slipped his faintly trembling hand into his pocket, concealing it from view.

As his blue eyes swept over the scene again, a shadow darkened within them.

A sharp ringing filled his ears and a stabbing pain pulsed through his head.