Ann conveyed her gratitude to the servants looking after her and continued her meal. Though it was a dinner table without Lennox, it could be quieter and more peaceful precisely because he wasn’t there. Perhaps all her evenings would be like this from now on.

There would be no exhausting emotional drain or weariness. Because Lennox would disappear from her daily life. What she’d wished for half her life was finally coming true. So why did it feel so bitter? 

Ann forced the corners of her mouth up to recover her sinking mood.

“Oh, Miss. A maid from Countess Ilva’s came by earlier. She asked me to deliver an invitation to you, so I left it in the study.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll check it later.”

Had she already sent an invitation? Ann felt suddenly tense. Though this wasn’t the first time she’d received an invitation like this.

It was probably because she had to find a husband within the given timeframe. Ann recalled Ingrid telling her to definitely find a husband and clinked her spoon. Though quite a bit of food remained, the sudden news made her stomach feel heavy.

“Miss, is it not to your taste?”

“Pardon?”

“You’re not eating well.”

Emma asked gently. Ann looked at the cooled stew, then shook her head at Emma.

“No. It’s just…”

“I must have told you too early.”

Alissa, who’d brought up the invitation, spoke with an apologetic face. Ann shook her head. Alissa hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just needlessly nervous, which was strange. 

Though she wasn’t a noble young lady, thanks to Ingrid and the noblewomen, she’d attended noble social gatherings quite often.

Of course, she was often with Ingrid’s maids, but her experience wasn’t lacking. So there was no need to stiffen up like this. But still…

“These days, the noblewomen of Saphoras enjoy summer picnics, so she probably wants to invite you to a picnic. But since recovering your health comes first, Miss, you should rest a bit more before…”

“No. I can’t refuse when I’ve received an invitation.”

Ann smiled properly and shook her head.

Countess Ilva must have sent the invitation early because she’d heard something from Tulip Palace. But if she refused from the first invitation, the Countess would feel perplexed. Moreover, if she wrote a refusal letter to the first invitation, other places might not invite her at all.

That couldn’t happen. No matter how difficult and uncomfortable it was to step into Saphoras society, her purpose in coming here wasn’t simple recuperation.

“It’s fine. My health is good enough even now. Thank you for your concern.”

Ann smiled brightly and picked up her spoon again. The stew had cooled, but the taste wasn’t bad. She quickly finished dinner, then went to the study. Then she checked the invitation Alissa had said she’d left on the table.

* * *

It was a deep and bright noon, like a lemon hanging fresh and vivid between green leaves under the golden sun. Lennox gazed at the young man striding toward him from a distance. 

The young man, wearing his uniform as the King’s guard and walking properly, was very far from the young boy in his memory.

“It’s been a while.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Have you been well?”

“As you can see.”

“You look well. You seem to resemble the late King more as time passes.”

Though it wasn’t a phrase he particularly liked, Lennox didn’t show it. He just curled the corners of his mouth in a crooked smile.

Lennox offered him the seat across from him and gazed at his old friend who’d grown into a fine young man. Hughie. 

Hughies de Altuart, the eldest son of Count Altuart and his wife Yvonne, had left the capital Rosbon eight years ago due to his mother’s illness. Lennox hadn’t seen him again since.

“Have I committed a discourtesy?”

“Of course not. How could saying a son resembles his father be discourteous?”

Hughies, who’d been reading Lennox’s expression in the brief silence, spoke. 

At Lennox’s stiff answer, he made a troubled expression. Lennox quietly examined his face. Yvonne had passed away eight years ago, unable to overcome her illness.

Count Altuart, who’d even abandoned his title as Guard Captain to seclude himself in a country villa to nurse his wife, fell into despair at her death. 

Though noble society treated devotion between spouses as peculiar, Count Altuart had been an extremely devoted husband to his wife.

Yvonne had also been a woman who loved and devoted herself only to her husband, even amid the scandal of being the King’s mistress. Separate from the fact that the late King had loved only her while alive. Hughies’s parents had lived in a world where they were everything to each other.

So Count Altuart, who couldn’t live in a world left alone after his wife died, passed away from illness two years later.

Hughies went to Catayu where his maternal family lived. 

Though they exchanged letters a few times afterward, contact naturally broke off, and Hughies later served in the navy under his maternal grandfather’s influence.

Time passed that way. The reason he returned to Rosbon was to succeed his late father.

“You also resemble Count Altuart greatly.”

“Do I?”

“When you were young, I thought you looked exactly like Yvonne.”

At Lennox’s words, Hughies smiled crookedly. It wasn’t a lie. Nor was it just Lennox’s view. 

Though he had black hair and jade-colored eyes exactly like Count Altuart, his features entirely resembled Yvonne. That’s why Father had liked Hughie.

Because Hughie resembled Yvonne. More than himself, his actual son. Perhaps the person he loved second after Yvonne was Hughies. Father was that kind of person.

“Come to think of it, when I was young, people said I resembled my mother a lot.”

“That’s why the late King favored you, wasn’t it?”

Lennox murmured cynically. Hughie read the cold energy on the King’s face and lowered his gaze. The story of his late mother and the deceased King wasn’t a pleasant topic even in their once-close past.

Back then they’d been eight-year-old kids who truly knew nothing, yet it was still that way. It must have been because of the adults whispering about them. 

Hughies traced the hazy fragments. As the King said, his father Richard III had favored him more than his own prince.

When he discovered the prince and himself playing side by side with toy soldiers, he’d lift him up first. Then he’d kiss his cheek like a real son and ask, “Have you been well?” 

Young Hughie would hug his neck and act spoiled, not knowing what kind of eyes the prince, the King’s actual son, had.

Unlike his stern father, Richard III often indulged his whims. Really like a father…

“Did you hear that story?”

“What story?”

“The story that you’re my half-brother.”

“What does ‘half’ mean?”

“It means we have different mothers.”

Hughies recalled a certain rainy day. It was the summer of a record drought after decades, the year when talk circulated through Rosbon that the days-long rainy season was thanks to the King’s virtue and the Queen’s devotion.

The prince was gloomily watching the pouring rain. Hughies stared blankly at the boy who, unlike himself, often wore melancholy expressions.

He’d learned the word ‘half-brother’ then. His childhood when the unfamiliar word he’d heard for the first time was so strange that all he could do was pronounce it several times…

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“About you being my half-brother. I’m the older one, right?”

The prince muttered in a voice without laughter. Hughies scratched his head and suggested they go play chess. The prince looked at him darkly, then nodded.

Only after Hughies grew a bit older did he understand what his words meant, what he’d been thinking. Also why his father had favored him.

But Hughies wasn’t the King’s illegitimate child. His mother had never slept with the King. At least after marrying his father, she’d always been a chaste noblewoman.

“I heard the royal wedding isn’t far off. Congratulations.”

Hughies mentioned his marriage to change the subject. The King, who’d been looking at the green garden outside the window, turned to look at him. Hughies didn’t avoid his gaze.

He’d seen the King’s fiancée once at a social gathering long ago. Was her name Charlotte? Her father, Marquis Beauve, and his father had been quite close.

“Thank you.”

The King answered briefly. The violet eyes that reached him were persistent. Hughies tried to read the emotion contained in his gaze. Like when they were young, he was a man whose thoughts couldn’t be read.

“You should marry too.”

“I should, but I haven’t had a suitable opportunity.”

“The Altuart County is a family with heirs as rare as the royal family.”

“That’s true.”

“If you’re agreeable, I could arrange a match.”

“Pardon?”

At the unexpected answer, Hughies stiffened. The King’s face asked what was wrong with that. Hughies’s lips twitched. The King tilted his head, then asked lowly.

“Do you dislike it?”

“It’s not that. It’s just…”

“If that’s not it, then it’s fine.”

The King smiled. Hughies watched the man leisurely rising. His face, stiff with confusion, didn’t relax. The King just laughed lowly and moved his feet.