“What?”

A criticism she never saw coming. Aisha blinked, her mind turning utterly blank. Ian, visibly displeased, bit his lip and let it go.

“Even if we were close as children, that doesn’t excuse you. What noble lady acts like this—who else would bring up her own engagement directly?”

“…”

“Aisha, perhaps the Count of Parden’s family permits such behaviour, but where I come from, it is utterly unheard of. For a noblewoman to speak of her own engagement is so shameless that I can hardly bear to look at you.”

The pallor on her face spread to her lips. Ian looked up from her trembling mouth, and her large blue eyes shimmered on the verge of tears under his scathing words. With a jaded sigh, he scraped his shoe across the floor.

“Are you going to cry again? Why?”

“I, I just…”

“Didn’t I tell you just days ago? Don’t cry and make me out to be the villain here. I haven’t said anything untrue, but you act like tears will fix everything.”

With that, the dam broke. Tears slid unchecked down her cheeks, but Ian’s face remained unchanged. Casting her a look of weary annoyance, he picked up his teacup and spoke.

“No, maybe it’s better this way. Since I’m already the bad guy, I might as well make myself clear. It’ll be better for both of us.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he finished. Aisha sat frozen in place, unable to move while he carried out the graceful ritual of sipping his tea.

When Ian finally set down his empty cup, his gaze drifted to the full teacup in front of Aisha. Unlike his, hers was still brimming, reflecting the image of a weeping woman like a mirror.

It didn’t bother him to see her crying in front of him, but for some reason, seeing her tears reflected in the teacup unsettled him. Annoyed by his own reaction, Ian ran a hand through his hair and stood up.

Aisha’s eyes went wide as he approached. Ignoring her surprise, Ian sat beside her and took her face in his hands, lifting it with careless ease.

“Don’t cry. I’ll explain it for you, so listen.”

Her pretty face was wet with tears. Ian wiped beneath her blue eyes with his thumb, feigning a gentle tone.

“You can see the world with those eyes, can’t you? So you should know exactly what’s going on.”

Held fast by his shifting mood, Aisha’s eyes darted with confusion—caught in the trap of his words, his touch, her uncertainty so plain it was almost entertaining. It amused him, watching her struggle with every careless word or gesture.

“Listen carefully. I’m keeping my distance from Count Parden and your brothers for political reasons.”

He explained what she already knew as if teaching a toddler. Feeling treated like a fool, Aisha squeezed her eyes shut, fighting desperately not to cry. But seeing that mocking smile on Ian’s face was more than she could bear—her sorrow burst free all at once, like a flood.

“I owed your family once, but up to now, I’ve never taken sides against them. That could change at any time. I can’t keep clinging to old childhood ties forever.”

Aisha had never imagined that Ian could be this hostile toward her family. Of course, their two houses moved in different circles, but aside from the most extreme members, everyone still interacted and maintained ties.

Take her father, Graham, for example. Apart from a few old noble families who refused to acknowledge him, he did business with many others and exchanged invitations with them. In fact, he was closest to Ian’s late father, the Marquis of Lloyd. So why was Ian…

Her tears, which had been falling in helpless frustration, suddenly stopped.

“It’s the reason we’re still not engaged.”

Aisha clenched her fists, about to protest that her father and her family were not his enemies. But before she could get the words out, Ian’s next line—engagement—strangled the protest in her throat.

“I have no idea how things might play out between our families. How could I possibly take you as my fiancée?”

He wore an expression of feigned regret, but there was nothing gentle in the way he told her he could never marry her. The moment she heard it so plainly, Aisha fell silent, her eyes glazed in shock. Ian, seeing this, offered her a languid, mocking smile and kept going.

“What if you turn around and stab me in the back? The Lloyd line is down to just me—if anything happens to me, it’s over. You know how it goes—sometimes the bride devours the husband and swallows up the whole family. It happens often enough, doesn’t it?”

After that heartless remark, Aisha lost any will to speak. She just sat there, limp and blinking, unable to muster any response. The ridicule faded from Ian’s face for a brief moment as he looked at the tears clinging to her lashes. His voice dropped low.

“You really made me say it out loud, didn’t you… You never seem to understand what it means to be considerate. Not at the charity party, not here.”

Ian’s hands, still cupping Aisha’s face, began to tighten. His grip grew steadily stronger, squeezing until she let out a pained gasp. Beneath his thumb, it felt as if her cheekbone might shatter at any moment. Ian calmly watched her struggle, then bit down on his lip before letting it go.

“Lady Aisha. I’ll spell it out for you, since you don’t seem to understand. Listen closely.”

“Ah—”

“I told you already, but I intend to keep my distance from you, for all the reasons I just gave. So from now on, stop chasing after me like this, and stop expecting anything from me.”

“I—Ian… That hurts, ah…”

Aisha’s trembling hands flew to his, but that was all she could manage. Even in pain, she neither dug her nails into his skin nor tried to pull away. She simply endured.

“Did you even listen to what I just said? I told you to keep your distance. And yet you still call me by name?”

That, too, seemed to irritate him. His expression darkened. He released her face, shoving her hands away with enough force that her back and arms hit the couch. Without a word, Ian looked down at her as she hunched over, rubbing her arms, and then stood.

Just moments ago, she’d been able to look him in the eye. Now, she couldn’t even lift her head, and the sight made him sneer in disgust. He picked up a white linen napkin from the table and wiped his damp hands.

“Start carrying yourself with proper dignity and mind your manners from now on. You’re severely lacking in decorum. ‘Ian’? That’s far too familiar, don’t you think?”

He tossed the napkin onto the table, his tone far more composed than before. But Aisha, frozen in fear, couldn’t even bring herself to look his way.

Aisha kept her gaze fixed on the crumpled napkin. Ian’s eyes twitched. He picked up another napkin from the table and handed it toward her. Bowing ever so slightly, his gesture seemed surprisingly polite, and Aisha, almost against her will, glanced back and forth between his face and the outstretched hand.

“Wipe your face. It’s a mess.”

As their eyes met, Ian smiled—a dazzling, beautiful smile that made his motives impossible to read. For the first time in her life, Aisha thought he might be insane, yet her trembling hand still reached out for the napkin he offered. The sight of her, so nervous and slow, was so ridiculous that Ian let out a soft, derisive laugh.

“I’ll do it.”

Just as her fingertips brushed the napkin, Ian pulled it back. It was only then that Aisha realized he was mocking her; her expression hardened. Yes, to him, she was just a toy—something to play with, toss aside, and pick up again whenever it suited him.

But knowing that didn’t mean she could get angry, or push him away. Meeting his cold blue gaze, Aisha let her body go slack and lowered her eyes. As if he’d expected nothing less, Ian brought the napkin to her face. ‘She really is a simple woman. That’s why she’s so dull, so irritating, so easy to hurt…’ He wanted to leave a scar. As he considered what more he might say, his mind drifted back to his conversation with his sister, Sophia.

“One more thing: show my sister some respect. I’ve heard that you ignore her simply because you’re convinced that you’ll marry me. That’s not right, is it?”

He could see the injustice written plain across her face. Of course, Ian knew how things really were between Aisha and Sophia. If he thought about it, it was obvious who always started the fights. But just as he’d told Sophia, he was her brother—not Aisha’s. Besides, Aisha had three older brothers who’d drop everything to rush to her side. The thought made his gaze grow even more cynical.

“I suppose Sophia might have exaggerated, but after seeing you propose to me so shamelessly today, I’m inclined to believe her. So I’ll say it again—Miss Aisha Parden. Show my sister some manners. Understood?”

It was the kind of remark that would wound anyone’s pride, but Aisha didn’t say a word. She even gave a small nod. She wasn’t crying anymore… but her reaction—so quiet, so subdued—left Ian vaguely dissatisfied. He let the napkin he’d used to wipe her face fall carelessly to the floor and straightened up.

“Well, I need to have lunch now… Take care on your way out.”

As he turned away, his foot caught the napkin and sent it skidding across the floor. Instead of watching him go, Aisha’s eyes lingered on the crumpled napkin. It looked so pathetic, just like her. ‘Is that how I look to him?.’ Just then, Ian’s voice called from the doorway he’d already opened.

“James. Miss Aisha is leaving now. See her out to the carriage.”

It was as good as an eviction. Aisha clenched her fists. James, entering the room, paused when he saw her sitting alone on the couch. Even to him, the young master had gone too far—he had no idea what to say.

“That young lady…”

Aisha’s hands trembled as she squeezed her eyes shut, lost in thought. Then, all at once, she stood up abruptly. Forcing a small smile toward the startled James, she looked so fragile it seemed she might fall apart at any moment.

“…I think I should be heading home now.”

Though her body trembled, her voice was calm and steady, with not a hint of wavering. But when James caught sight of the tear rolling down from beneath her slightly reddened blue eyes, he couldn’t help but sigh, his face unconsciously filling with pity.