That evening. From the lips of Raymond, seated on the sofa, burst a sigh that was close to a groan.

“Haah.”

How could Charlotte have forgotten him, of all people? No matter how he thought about it, it was galling. But galling wasn’t the only problem—

Why has she gotten so thin…

She might not know him, but he knew what she’d looked like as a child. A chubby-cheeked, lovely little thing. She wasn’t a child who smiled so glumly, so awkwardly, like that.

Of course, today’s situation wasn’t one that called for Charlotte to smile brightly. And there was no denying that Raymond, in a flush of temper, had pushed her rather too hard.

Raymond wrinkled his nose. As time passed, rather than the galled, hurt feelings, it was only the image of the skin-and-bones Charlotte watching warily for his reaction that kept rising up, and it left his throat tight.

Why did I act so childishly? It wasn’t like me.

Letting out a sigh—hoo—he recalled the time of Charlotte’s wedding.

Derik, who had attended Charlotte’s wedding, returned later than originally planned. Raymond had worried that perhaps he’d come back late after pestering Charlotte, but the reason for Derik’s lateness was one he’d never anticipated.

[Lady Prairie’s engagement was called off. The reason I’m late is that I was looking into why.]

[Called off? What do you mean, all of a sudden—why!]

[It seems the young master of House Roman got some woman pregnant. The pregnant woman showed up at the wedding hall and apparently confessed everything to the young lady.]

[That out-of-his-mind bastard…]

Raymond’s insides seethed and boiled. If his own gut was churning this much, he couldn’t even imagine what state Charlotte must be in. If his grandfather hadn’t been ill, he’d have gone to Charlotte at once.

…No. Even if his grandfather hadn’t been ill, he’d never have gone to see her himself. Because she might feel shame and self-reproach at being reunited over a matter like this, of all things.

At the time, Raymond judged that what Charlotte needed was time alone. And so he’d hoped that Charlotte—who had looked after herself for so long—would someday open the doors of House Prairie and walk out on her own.

I never imagined she’d be here.

How long had she been here? Judging by her relationship with Elena, it looked like she’d been here quite a while. In that case, was the letter sent to the ducal house sent from here too? His reply would have arrived at House Prairie—did Charlotte even know he’d sent a reply?

In any case, it seems even after coming all this way, she’s been holed up in the Spencer manor this whole time.

There were few among Glasko’s upper class who hadn’t attended his party. It was no exaggeration to say all the young people, especially, had come. And above all, that face. Wasn’t it pale as could be, as though she’d not seen a ray of sunlight at all?

Raymond was truly angry.

You used to be so plucky.

[You’re a nuisance, so go away.]

A boy four years older coldly ignoring her might well have been frightening, and yet you came toddling up to the very end, grinning away. There were times you bawled your eyes out at a sharp word now and then, but later you’d smile again and say goodbye, see you tomorrow too. That dazzling little presence was none other than you.

Beneath the flood of thoughts and feelings, Raymond had no choice but to close his eyes firmly. How much time had passed? Having sorted through his thoughts and settled the priority of his emotions, he opened his eyes.

The gaze that had been so turbulent moments ago no longer wavered. Just like his usual self.

* * *

Charlotte kept thinking it over. I may have made a misstep. From the very moment he first saw Charlotte, he’d stared her down with a sharp gaze, but…

Let’s chalk that up to just his natural expression…

The prickly attitude afterward might have stemmed from a fault of Charlotte’s own.

Charlotte mulled over carefully just what mistake she might have committed. The most plausible thing was having said she didn’t remember Duke Earlister. Raymond’s reaction at that point had been no ordinary one, after all.

In that case, why would that have displeased him so? Could it be that he’d found Charlotte detestable—remembering nothing despite having been the recipient of House Earlister’s kindness?

Even though it’s merely that she can’t remember things from when she was a child?

Raymond must respect and like Duke Earlister so much that such circumstances didn’t even count as a mitigating factor.

“It seems it’s because of me after all. I think I hurt Mr. Bayen’s feelings by misspeaking.”

Charlotte’s guilt-laden voice rang low. Elena shook her head.

“No. It’s not that—a hundred-gold piece got broken, you know. Who wouldn’t be angry…?”

“…”

A hundred gold. It was a sum that raised goosebumps over her whole body just to think of it.

“At any rate, Charlotte. Don’t trouble yourself over it any longer. Tomorrow I’ll go to Mr. Bayen again myself and grovel for all I’m worth.”

She didn’t dare even hope he’d reduce the amount. She simply meant to ask him to stretch out the repayment period as long as possible. So they could pay it back little by little over a lifetime.

And so the next morning came. It was just as Elena had finished getting ready to go out to call on the Bayen manor—that a finely dressed servant of the Bayen manor visited the Spencer manor.

He’d found the receipt already?!

This is something a simple letter would have handled—why go to such lengths!!

Fortunately Madam Spencer had gone out early on hotel business, or she’d very nearly have been found out by her.

Just as Charlotte and Elena were sweeping their hands down over their chests in relief, the Bayen manor’s servant said,

“I’ve come to escort Lady Prairie.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

Charlotte and Elena answered at the same time. While Charlotte was still opening and closing her mouth, Elena raised a hand to her chest and said in a small, almost whispering voice,

“I think there’s been some mistake. Mr. Bayen’s hundred gold… I mean, the pottery—I broke it. I believe I’m the one who ought to call on him.”

“My apologies. All I know is that my master instructed me to bring only Lady Prairie, and her alone.”

Charlotte swallowed hard and thought,

Ah—so I really did make a mistake after all.

Otherwise he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to insist on seeing only her like this.

* * *

Viscountess Roman, who had gone out in high spirits, came back to the manor huffing and snorting though hardly any time had passed.

“Fiona!”

She shrieked her daughter-in-law’s name at the top of her voice.

Fiona, dressed in a gown lavish enough to be perfectly at home at a garden party, appeared at the second-floor railing.

“Mother, what’s the matter?”

“You! When your elder calls, you’re to come straight down—what are you doing looking down at me from the second floor?!”

“What? But I have to be careful, my belly’s been tightening up.”

Fiona stroked her swollen belly carefully and put on a tearful face. The corners of Viscountess Roman’s mouth twitched.

“If you can’t even come down the stairs, then how did you manage to go to the dress shop yesterday and have a gown fitted?”

“My body was fine then.”

“What sort of body decides it’s well or unwell whenever it suits your convenience?”

Viscountess Roman’s shoulders quivered. For the first time in a long while, she’d gone to Sandem’s most famous dress shop to have a gown made. And then, what should she hear but that Fiona had had a gown made there the day before. And not just any—a gown five times more expensive than the one the Viscountess had meant to wear!

[I’m terribly sorry, but the balance hasn’t yet been settled. We can’t make you a new gown until the payment is completely cleared.]

Thanks to that, Viscountess Roman had to come home empty-handed and thoroughly mortified.

“You. When do you intend to pay off the balance?”

“The balance? Oh, the gown? I think you’ll have to ask Charles about that.”

“What?! Is my son the one paying for it?!”

“Of course. It’s a gown for his beloved wife to wear.”

Fiona blinked as if to ask why she was even questioning the obvious.

That insolent little thing is going to bankrupt our entire household!

Back when they were getting married, she’d never even imagined something like this would happen.

[My father is so terribly busy. He sent these gifts as a token of his apology, saying he was sorry he couldn’t come in person.]

In keeping with the scale of a businessman of note in Grasian, Fiona’s father had gifted her a great heap of lavish jewelry. On top of that, he’d even sent a dedicated personal physician—the sort you’d expect only in a high-ranking noble household.

And while Fiona, this being the one and only wedding she’d ever have in her life, might well have wanted a lavish ceremony…

[I’m fine with just writing my name on the vow document.]

[Truly?]

[Of course. I know my place. And besides… just having this marriage come together feels like I’m dreaming.]

Ahh! Rich, knowing her place, and thoughtful on top of it. She’d truly thought her a daughter-in-law beyond all comparison with Charlotte.

Strangely, though, once they were married, Fiona showed a side quite different from what she’d expected.

Insolently doing nothing but living it up in luxury!

That extravagance—if she did it with her own father’s money, who would say a word!

But that one, faithfully, did her living-it-up on our household’s money!

And the doctor, too—nothing at all like what I expected!

The doctor Fiona’s father had sent was an obstetric specialist. She attended to Fiona and Fiona alone; even when Viscountess Roman caught a cold, far from examining her, the doctor only fretted herself sick over whether it might be passed to Fiona. Much as she’d have liked to throw the doctor out, the very existence of a dedicated physician was such a great point of pride that she barely endured it.

But did she have to endure today, too?

…I’ll bear it until that word comes.

Heaving a deep sigh, Viscountess Roman smoothed her hair with a hand bearing a large pearl ring. Fiona stared fixedly at the pearl ring—clearly visible even from the second floor—and, sensing Viscountess Roman’s gaze turning toward her, put on a pitiful expression.

“Mother. I’m not feeling well, so might I go on into my room now?”

“And what have you done to be unwell?”

“But the doctor told me to be careful… ow…”

Fiona clutched her swollen belly and groaned. The doctor had indeed said as much. That Fiona’s body was far too weak, and the baby’s pulse far too faint, so she mustn’t be subjected to stress and had to be careful, careful above all else.

Honestly, there’s no greater master to wait on!

When Viscountess Roman gave a grudging nod, Fiona made her way back to her bedroom with effort. And the face of Fiona, returned to her bedroom like that, was cold as could be.

“The revolting old hag’s been grating on my nerves since broad daylight.”