The moment her eyes met his—

Her body went cold, as though drenched in icy water.

The woman pressed the back of her head against the wall in haste.

Thud. Thud.

Her heartbeat pounded so violently it seemed to echo all the way to her skull.

‘No…’

Steadying her trembling hands, she dared to peer outside again.

The man was chatting with the others as if nothing had happened, as though he had never looked her way at all.

‘That can’t be right. From outside, this gap wouldn’t even be visible. There’s no way our eyes could have met.’

She released a quiet breath and forced her breathing to settle.

A guilty conscience always strikes first. The moment she dared to step out of her comfort zone, however slightly, every little sound made her flinch.

After glancing at her worn watch, she hurried away. She had already stayed longer than intended. If the head maid found out that she had gone to the lobby just to catch a glimpse of him, she didn’t know what would happen.

Though she walked quickly, her face glowed brighter than before. It was not the thrill of seeing the rumored man that filled her with warmth, but the quiet excitement of her small act of rebellion, carried out unnoticed while everyone’s attention was fixed on the duke.

But the lightness in her chest did not last.

When she returned to the small room, the head maid — who had supposedly gone to oversee preparations for the distinguished guest’s meal — was already waiting for her.

“Where have you been?”

Because she had been so rattled by the illusion of meeting the man’s gaze, she had failed to notice when the head maid left the area.

“I was going to send you on an errand, but you were nowhere in your room. How many times did I tell you not to leave your post until His Grace arrives?”

“I just went to the restroom for a moment…”

“Did you go to the lobby and lie to me? I’ve warned you time and again: never draw the duke’s attention. He’s a man who has spent his entire life surrounded by the finest and most precious things…Do you really think someone like him should have to look at you?”

The head maid’s narrow eyes swept over her.

The woman scratched her cheek and lowered her head.

She might not be remarkable, but she did not believe her face was so unsightly as to shame anyone. Still, she could not bring herself to protest. She bowed deeply.

“I’m sorry.”

“Spare me the apologies that only come out of your mouth. Go and wash the bedding in the laundry room and hang it out to dry in the garden at the back. The estate will be busy from now on, so you will be responsible for the laundry from this point onwards.”

“Wash the bedding… by myself?”

She repeated the order in disbelief. Normally, washing bedding was done by three maids together.

“The others are busy preparing for the banquet. This arrangement is for your own good. If you hide in a corner of the estate, you’re far less likely to bump into His Grace. If it were entirely up to me, I would send you away — anywhere — but there is nowhere suitable to put you. At a time like this, the madam has left to recuperate…”

Resting her chin in her hand, the head maid let out a long, weary sigh.

She was like a stone lodged deep within a crack — wedged so tightly that it could not be pried loose.

She had been brought here as a child, intending to send her away once she reached adulthood. But the count had objected. And so she remained, an unwanted burden kept against all desire.

“Oh, honestly. What can anyone expect from a girl who can’t even remember her own name? Stop dawdling and go do your work.”

The head maid clicked her tongue and shook her head as she looked down at the woman, whose tense shoulders were hunched up around her ears. This small, weary, resigned gesture made her shrink further into herself.

The only thing missing were her childhood memories. She had always done her utmost with every task assigned to her, and she was by no means incompetent. Yet being spoken of as though she were flawed, as though she lacked something inherent, stung more deeply than she cared to admit. Still, she offered not a single word in her defense.

As the head maid had said, she was supposed to be grateful — grateful just to be taken in, even though she couldn’t remember her own name.

She bowed deeply from the waist, then turned and made her way to the rear garden. Although the air was warm, her hands were red and raw, as if lashed by a bitter winter wind.

***

“You must be tired. You could have kept the greetings brief. Everyone already knows who you are, Your Grace.”

As soon as the introductions were over, Amelia slipped her arm through Logan’s and clung to him. Her voice was heavy with unspoken complaint.

He had told her he was tired when he arrived at the train station. Because of that, she had cancelled the city date she had carefully arranged for them and taken him straight back to the estate. Yet, rather than resting, the duke spent the next half an hour greeting the servants one by one.

“Reputations crumble over trifles. If anything, one must be more careful with those who already know who I am.”

“Honestly—no one would doubt you’re a businessman. You’ve come all this way and you’re still thinking about work?”

Amelia pouted, sticking out her lower lip as if she were offended.

Everyone knew that the Duke of Fraser was a workaholic. You would realize it after spending a single day by his side, even without the rumors. Every aspect of his life revolved around the enterprises he managed.

“Work is important, but while you’re here, you can relax. After all, they’re all my employees. No one here would spread rumors that could damage your reputation.”

This was precisely why Amelia had wanted him to come to Rosedale so badly. She had hoped that, even if only for a few days, he might be able to put work to one side and rest here.

But habits ingrained in the body were not easily undone.

The duke informed her that he had engagements scheduled every day except the day of her birthday party during the week he was staying in Rosedale.

‘Once we’re married, it will gradually get better.’

Amelia chose not to rush. The marriage had already been settled by agreement between their families. There was no need to be anxious. Once they were living under the same roof, even minor matters could be corrected slowly, in time.

Supporting her husband so that his business prospered was also part of a lady of the house’s virtue.

“While you’ve been busy expanding your business in the capital, Rosedale has changed tremendously as well. You probably know better than I do, but it’s developing year by year. I truly think a grand hotel could be built here without seeming out of place. Father says that for years now, merchants have been coming regularly to ask to purchase the land.”

“Of course, we didn’t even bother replying. It already has an owner, after all.”

Amelia tilted her head up at him with a mischievous smile.

The Duke of Fraser climbed the stairs in silence, offering no visible sign that he had even heard her.

‘Yes… a man is better when he’s reserved rather than talkative.’

Although she was unsettled by his reluctance to speak at their long-awaited reunion, Amelia forced herself to focus on his virtues.

After all, her father had always said that a man should know when to remain silent.

Rather than dwelling on her disappointment, she chose to consider the positive aspects of their relationship for the sake of their future. The Duke of Fraser had more than enough admirable qualities.

Her eyes shimmered with expectation as she gazed up at Logan. This was his first visit to the Count’s estate since their engagement.

There had even been a time when they could not hold a proper engagement ceremony. All she had received was a ring. To hide this, she had told others that the families had chosen to hold a small, private ceremony instead.

Although the ring rested plainly on her finger, the duke had never stood beside her at an official function. Rumors had circulated — whispers that their engagement was a fabrication. She endured every cutting word and sideways glance for one reason alone.

She intended to marry him.

‘This visit must mean he’s finally thinking about marriage.’

Why else would Logan—so consumed by work—attend the birthday celebration she hosted in the territory each year?

The moment his reply arrived, confirming he would attend this year’s party, she had hurried to the capital to meet him herself, afraid his resolve might waver.

He, who had always postponed matters, claiming to be too busy—had at last decided to marry.

It was all thanks to the former duchess, who had offered her unwavering support.

‘Then I’ll have to try even harder as well.’

“Oh—here it is. When we renovated the estate two years ago, we changed the location of the guest rooms. This one is closest to my bedroom.”

Instead of giving him a full tour, she had guided him straight to the chamber. She stopped before the door.

“I’ll have your luggage sent up right away.”

“Well done.”

Logan’s curt reply, offered at the end of her efforts, made Amelia press her lips together.

She had finished showing him the room. It was time to return to her own chamber.

Yet she remained where she stood.

Logan watched her for a moment as she fidgeted with her fingers, hesitating.

“Um…”

Her intention was painfully obvious.

And he had no desire to indulge it.

Just as Amelia carefully parted her lips to speak, Logan cut her off.

“Which way leads to the stairs going down to the rear garden?”