The drinking session, which had continued past midnight, gradually turned into a celebration, as though Joshua’s proposal had been accepted without question.

Amid the loud cheers and congratulatory remarks, Logan sat in silence, emptying his glass.

One bottle. Then another.

Empty bottles began to line up beneath the table.

‘Proposal.’

That single word scraped relentlessly at his thoughts.

‘He said he would propose to that maid.’

Was he the only one who thought the word ‘marriage’ had no place near her?

Logan pictured her sitting with her back to the window, carefully sorting through documents. He remembered how she would tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear while reading with quiet concentration. He remembered how her face would light up when she talked about all the new things she had learnt lately.

She had once confessed, with hesitant honesty, that she feared life beyond the Count’s estate yet longed to step outside it at the same time.

And now she was going to marry?

“If that maid is fortunate enough to marry Joshua, it would certainly make things easier for us. Mother always arranges suitable matches for the maids once they come of age. What greater success could a maid possibly hope for than a marriage personally arranged by the household?”

Amelia’s bright, ringing voice echoed in his memory.

She had said they would soon arrange the marriage.

Others spoke freely of something Bella herself had never mentioned to him.

‘Was I the only one who believed she stood far from the word marriage?’

The finger tracing the rim of his glass stilled.

The alcohol had begun to take hold; his head felt heavy.

Logan closed his eyes.

“My dream is to marry a handsome man. Since princes in fairy tales always marry princesses, perhaps I should marry someone slightly less handsome.”

“And when you marry a beautiful lady someday, Your Grace, I’ll look after your little princess. When I have a child of my own, they can work at the ducal estate too, just like me.”

She said this one afternoon while reading a fairy tale beside him as he prepared for his tutoring exam.

She was a child missing her front tooth; her words were slightly lisped as she weaved innocent plans for the future.

He had been buried in his studies, pushing himself to the point of nosebleeds before every exam, and her carefree chatter irritated him.

“Who would ever marry someone as ugly as you? Find your missing tooth before you start looking for a groom.”

“Ouch! I’m definitely going to get married and live happily ever after, just like Mommy and Daddy. Mommy said that if I put my fallen tooth under my pillow, my wish will come true. The tooth fairy has already taken it, so my wish will come true soon!”

“You’re so foolish. There are no fairies. Adults just make up those stories to fool children.”

A light tap on the forehead made her puff out her cheeks in protest. He had lost count of how many chocolates he had sneaked from the kitchen just to coax her out of her sulk. She would cry until her eyes turned bright red, but as soon as she tasted chocolate, she would brighten up again as if nothing had happened.

“Your Grace, just shift a little…”

He felt hands trying to move him and heard a woman’s voice.

Lost in memories of the girl, he realized that he had fallen asleep briefly.

As he slowly opened his eyes, he saw the familiar ceiling. He had been sitting on the living room sofa, but now he was lying in his bedroom.

‘Who brought me here?’

His thoughts were hazy, as if shrouded in mist. Perhaps he hadn’t fully woken up from his dream yet. The girl who should have vanished the moment he opened his eyes was still beside him.

He grabbed her wrist when she tried to leave.

“Don’t go.”

He was afraid of losing her, even in his dreams. This time, he didn’t want to let go. If holding her meant never letting go, then so be it. His grip tightened urgently and desperately.

“Your Grace?”

But the woman in front of him was real.

He could feel the maid trembling through their skin-to-skin contact.

Not the girl.

It was the maid who had been on his mind all day.

“…Bella.”

“I’ll fetch some water. So please, let go…”

Bella tried to pull away gently, but Logan wouldn’t let her go. The fact that she was trying to step away only stirred something darker within him.

He pulled her towards him and lowered her onto the bed. Bracing his arms on either side of her, he looked down at the woman beneath him.

His hand moved slowly towards her lips — the same lips that had been speaking only moments before, now stilled as though they had forgotten how to form words.

“You’re drunk. You’ll regret this when you wake up—”

Her warning was cut off by his sudden kiss.

He lightly brushed his teeth against her lips before deepening the kiss and pressing closer to her, as though he meant to claim her very breath.

‘I can’t breathe…’

Bella squeezed her eyes shut, unsure how to breathe with their lips together. She held her breath until her lungs burned, gripping his firm shoulder tightly.

Only then did Logan pull away slightly and whisper against her lips.

“Breathe.”

Their hot breath mingled as their lips parted.

Bella struggled to breathe.

How had this happened? Why was the duke doing this to her?

But Logan did not give her time to think. His kiss was simultaneously gentle and commanding. He tightened his grip on the back of her neck while his warm, damp lips pressed against hers again and again, then slowly moved downwards.

The moment his mouth brushed the curve of her neck, Bella’s body jerked in shock.

Seeing her unguarded, instinctive reaction, Logan felt a dark satisfaction. The realization that she responded to him — and him alone — only intensified the heat rising within him.

A low breath escaped him as he buried his face in her neck and inhaled her faint, unadorned scent. The desire pounding in his chest surged — dangerously strong and impossible to ignore.

‘You are mine. You have always been mine. I was the only one meant to claim you.’

The mere sight of her walking with another man was enough to unsettle him and destroy his concentration.

He wanted her to be entirely his.

His possessive, jealous gaze dragged over her disheveled appearance.

“Answer me.”

Say it. Say that I am your master.

“Isa… Bella.”

Logan’s hand moved gently across Bella’s cheek.

In that instant, she felt the blood drain from her body.

Isabella.

Not Amelia’s name. Not her own.

Another woman’s name.

Only then did she look directly into his eyes.

He was not looking at her.

Through the haze of alcohol, he had mistaken her for someone else.

“Y-Your Grace seems very intoxicated.”

Once she had composed herself, Bella pushed against him. The weight pressing her down yielded more easily than she had expected.

“You must be tired. It would be best if you… if you rested now.”

Free from his grasp, Bella took a step back to create distance between them.

Her face pale with shock, she fled the bedchamber, her hurried footsteps echoing down the dark corridor.

She rubbed her lips with her sleeve, as if someone might notice the shine, but the sensation clung to her like a brand.

“Why…?”

The question wouldn’t leave her as she made her way back to the servants’ quarters.

He was engaged to someone else — so why had he kissed her?

And why hadn’t she pushed him away sooner?

Who did he think she was?

Bella’s steps gradually slowed.

Whether from running through the corridor or from what had just happened, her heart pounded violently in her chest.

Isabella.

A woman whose name closely resembled the one he had first called her. Even without asking, Bella understood that much.

Something tightened painfully in her chest, as though she could not draw a full breath. Clutching at her chest, she slid down the wall and sank to the floor.

The tears she had struggled to hold back finally spilled over, tracing silent paths down her cheeks, and a burning sensation spread behind her eyes.

She had never wanted the duke to treat her as someone special.

All she wanted was to carry out her duties faithfully during his stay at the Count’s estate.

She had never truly expected anything.

She had tried not to.

“His Grace would never want someone as inadequate as you.”

Yet the realization that his kindness had never truly been intended for her and that she had merely taken someone else’s place hurt far more than any fragile resolve she had tried to cling to.

If he had never treated her gently from the beginning, perhaps it would not have wounded her so deeply.

Pressing both hands over her mouth, Bella wept silently. The faint ache in her shoulders, which had lingered all day, now throbbed as though they might break apart.

That night, she lay awake long past midnight, unable to sleep.