A relatively short silence followed, yet to Rose, it felt like an eternity.

“Is that truly what you want?”

At the sound of Raphael’s faintly amused voice, the heavy tension that had settled between them quickly dissolved.

Rose blinked.

Raphael let out a quiet laugh and rested his chin on his hand, leaning against the table.

“You still doubt me.”

“I have no choice but to.”

Rose could not easily escape the grief and emptiness left by losing her child.

At times, when she dreamed of it, the pain was so suffocating she could barely breathe.

What made her even more restless was the quiet disappointment she felt—Raphael had not mentioned the child even once since their first meeting.

“Rose, can’t you see how hard I’m trying to restrain myself?”

Unwilling to be swayed by such hollow sweet talk, Rose picked up the wine glass in front of her and downed it in one gulp.

“According to Louisa, you haven’t resumed your cycle since the miscarriage.”

“…What?”

There was clear shock in her voice.

The moment she understood his meaning, her face flushed a deep red.

“Since your body hasn’t fully recovered yet, Vincent warned me to be careful about sharing a bed with you.”

“……”

“So try to understand what it felt like for me—having to turn away from your door.”

There was a teasing edge to his voice.

At that expression, Rose felt a wave of embarrassment, as though her thoughts had been completely exposed.

So that night—she hadn’t imagined it after all.

But even so, the sharpness of her unsettled feelings did not easily soften.

There were many things she wanted to know about Raphael, yet she had never been given the chance to truly speak with him.

She found herself waiting for the moments they would meet.

And perhaps, the sense of comfort she felt in his presence came from habits she no longer remembered.

As for the way her heart tightened painfully whenever she met his gaze—that needed no explanation.

Rose needed time.

Time to understand him.

“Well, if that’s what you want, then of course.”

Raphael straightened from where he had been resting his chin on his hand and quietly studied her trembling brown eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes. But—”

“……”

“Stop doubting us.”

For a fleeting moment, something dark flickered in his lowered gaze—but it vanished just as quickly.

“Trust me, Rose.”

His low yet clear voice sank into her ears.

Rose, who had been tangled in doubt and suspicion toward him, found herself forgetting everything at the sweetness of his words.

***

Sometimes, in her dreams, she caught glimpses of scenes that might have been fragments of her lost memories.

But the moment she opened her eyes, everything returned to nothing.

It felt as though a thick fog had settled over her mind.

Even so, Rose never spoke of her condition to anyone.

She didn’t know why—only that it felt like something she must not do.

If one day, the fog of oblivion that had swallowed her memories were to lift completely…would things still remain as they were now?

On days when the duke was not away, he came to her bedroom and slept beside her.

Even when reviewing documents or handling simple tasks, he stayed there.

Raphael often held her from behind.

Each time, the firm presence against her back made her body tense, her heartbeat racing as she listened to its uneven rhythm.

At times, he would kiss her as though he might devour her—only to suddenly withdraw, his expression turning restrained, stopping himself and simply holding her instead.

His soft voice, whispering words of love, was like a strong wine—intoxicating the more she heard it.

The way he pressed kisses to the crown of her head, playfully nipped at her shoulder, or wrapped his arms around her waist was as tender as any lover’s—yet there was a wildness in his strength.

His embrace felt like a sheltering nest.

She didn’t want to leave this place.

Before she realized it, she found herself longing for his embrace.

In time, her cycle returned. Yet even after that, Raphael never asked for more than a kiss.

Rose began to grow restless.

In just two months, everything had reversed.

“Louisa.”

At the sound of her name, Louisa lifted her head.

Rose stood by the window, gazing down at the garden now touched with the fullness of spring, and spoke without turning around.

“Could you bring me the weekly magazine the maids have been reading?”

Thanks to her steady rehabilitation, Rose could now walk without the splint. She turned her body slowly, moving with ease.

Louisa lowered her head, unable to hide her hesitation.

“That….”

“Please, Louisa.”

A quiet sigh brushed past Rose’s ears.

Louisa searched for words to dissuade her—but stopped midway.

If it was something she would learn eventually, was there any point in hiding it?

Regardless of the duke’s wishes, his scandals were already known to all, drawing the full attention of society.

Just days ago, a front-page article had featured the Duke of Frederick and Lady Ambershire, captured together at the theater in an intimate moment.

“…Then I’ll bring it.”

Even after Louisa left the room, Rose did not take her eyes off the window.

Her gaze, fixed on the gardener moving diligently through the estate grounds, was unfocused—lost in thought.

But the moment she noticed a black carriage approaching along the road that led to the estate, her thoughts vanished, and her eyes followed its movement.

As it drew closer, an unfamiliar crest became clearer.

A double-headed eagle.

A symbol she could not recognize in her current state.

A knock sounded behind her, and Rose, distracted, responded instinctively.

As Louisa entered the room with the magazine, she froze at the sight of Rose leaning dangerously out of the window.

“Miss Hamilton, that’s dangerous!”

Rushing forward, Louisa wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back inside.

The magazine slipped from her grasp, falling onto the carpet with a soft thud.

Drawn instinctively toward the sound, her gaze fell upon the image of a carriage bearing the same crest she had just seen.

As if pulled by something unseen, Rose bent down and picked up the magazine. The illustration on the front page came into sharp focus before her eyes.

In front of a carriage marked with the double-headed eagle, a man and a woman stood exchanging greetings.

Rose recognized the tall gentleman at once.

“What were you thinking, leaning out the window like that? What if you had fallen?”

Louisa’s voice, raised in agitation, barely reached Rose’s ears.

And this blonde woman…

“…Miss? Are you listening to me?”

Rose understood her situation better than anyone.

So this—all of this—was only natural. Something that was bound to happen eventually.

But she had never imagined it would come so soon.

At a loss for words, her hand trembled as she held the magazine.

“Miss Hamilton?”

Realizing something was wrong, Louisa stepped closer, studying her face.

The moment she saw how pale Rose had turned, a commotion rose from outside the window.

An uninvited guest arriving without warning, in the master’s absence.

***

On the carriage returning to Blancheau after concluding his business in Muenbern, Raphael was met with unwelcome news.

“My mother?”

“Yes. She has arrived—with Lady Ambershire.”

A faint sneer touched Raphael’s otherwise expressionless face.

Watching his reaction, Felix cleared his throat lightly, covering his mouth with a clenched fist.

The news that Amezella had come to the estate with Clara had reached Raphael while he was in the middle of a meeting with his executives.

Butler Patrick had urgently sent word through a messenger.

Given the nature of the matter, Felix had not expected Raphael to take it well.

Still—while Raphael clearly found the situation displeasing, Felix himself supported the idea of his marriage to Clara Ambershire.

“With the social season approaching in spring, it seems they intend to stay in Blancheau for some time.”

“……”

‘Just meet Clara Ambershire once. If you do, I’ll leave shortly after.’

Amezella’s earnest voice echoed faintly in his mind—and a quiet, humorless laugh escaped him.

Raphael had agreed so readily to Clara Ambershire’s request to attend the opera for one reason only—to show that he had fulfilled every obligation expected of him as a son.

Even as articles spread through weekly publications and gossip twisted and exaggerated the story, he made no effort to intervene.

He had already told the woman in question, with proper courtesy, that he had no intention of marrying her.

He assumed that a noble lady with such towering pride would feel insulted enough to withdraw on her own.

At the very least, he had intended to preserve her dignity—to spare her the disgrace that would come with a broken engagement.

But that effort had proven entirely meaningless.

It had been a mistake not to suspect that the two women might join forces and orchestrate this situation together.

In that case, there was no longer any reason to keep things hidden.

Now that Rose DeWitt Hamilton had lost all her memories, this was his chance to reclaim everything.

***

“We’ll be hosting a soirée here soon to invite the nobility. With the social season approaching and everyone gathering in Vachen, shouldn’t we make your relationship known before then?”

As Amezella walked along the neatly tended garden path, she stopped at the sight of the climbing roses, which were in full bloom and untouched by the changing seasons.

Clara stopped beside her.

The blonde woman, wearing a brown bonnet, found her gaze lingering on the grand, imposing estate. The cool breath of early spring brushed against her skin, stirring something within her.

For a moment, she thought she saw a shadow move at the far-right window on the second floor of the main residence.

But from that distance, she couldn’t be certain.

“No matter how stubborn Raphael may be, he cannot avoid this marriage. So don’t trouble yourself too much.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Gently brushing her fingers over the deep crimson petals, Amezella inhaled their rich fragrance, a satisfied smile forming on her lips.

“If you need anything during your stay, speak to Butler Patrick or Head Maid Brenda. As for Raphael, I will handle everything myself.”

Sensing Amezella’s gaze upon her, Clara turned away from the estate and offered a shy smile.