It was a tribulation. There could be no more appropriate expression to describe the events that had unfolded around Richard Dalton over the past few days.

Richard was sitting in front of the piano with Claire. With nagging that even included childhood memories, he had barely managed to finish one duet, but he couldn’t exert any more concentration than that. Even while moving his fingers on the keys, Richard was thinking about Olivia the entire time.

The reason Timothy had returned to London first with Olivia was simple. There was an urgent matter in London.

He couldn’t know exactly what had happened at the London house with even the Cornell couple away, but anyway, Timothy had returned with her, citing the reason that he couldn’t let Olivia go alone. Then the question of whether the combination of two unmarried people was acceptable was a part he couldn’t dare comment on.

Richard was left here with Claire and Iris. Since they couldn’t send Claire, who had just arrived here, back to London, it was an unavoidable result.

Richard, who had come here looking for excuses to escape but ended up trapped instead, was staring at some point between the white and black keys while thinking about the kiss he had shared with Olivia. The scene from that time, which unfolded endlessly without effort, would instantly revive even the emotions and heat of that moment.

Please.

The words the woman in Richard’s arms had whispered with desperate longing were vivid in his ears. He could tell without asking what the woman had been craving. He knew that in that moment, he too had desired the same thing beyond measure. Blue veins bulged on the back of Richard’s hand as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Sorry. I have some financial statements to review today.”

Richard turned his body to get up from his seat, and Claire wrapped both hands around his waist. Richard, who had stiffened like that, looked down at the small hands tightly binding him. Iris happened to be away from her seat.

“Claire, this is troubling.”

“Stay with me.”

“Claire—”

“You’re only thinking of other things the entire time you’re beside me.”

Richard finally freed the clasped hands. Before the small hands could try to be stubborn, Richard stood up from the piano bench.

“Today is my birthday. Do you know that?”

He didn’t know. In fact, it wasn’t something Richard should have known, and Claire probably hadn’t asked such a question with such expectations either. Richard, who had turned around while letting down his swept-up hair, lowered his gaze to Claire, who was still sitting on the piano bench looking up at him.

“I want to receive a gift.”

“……Tell me.”

If possible, he was thinking of doing that much. As long as Claire was Timothy’s sister, she would still be an important guest to him.

“……Kiss me.”

A tribulation. It really was a tribulation. Richard barely closed his mouth that was about to open and placed his hands on his waist. He glared at the door with full irritation, wondering why Iris, who had said she would just change books and return, still had no news.

“Don’t wish for something I can’t give you, Claire. If I think of your brother—”

“What does Timothy, who isn’t here, have to do with anything? Besides, it’s not a gift for my brother but for me. Naturally, you should give me what I want.”

“Even if Timothy isn’t here, you’re forever Timothy’s sister. Nothing can change that fact.”

Richard turned away from Claire. Since it would become a wasteful argument anyway, he was thinking of telling Annie to prepare some appropriate meal. That was exactly how far Richard Dalton could go for Timothy Murray’s younger sister. Something like a kiss couldn’t even be a subject of discussion.

Even if Claire hadn’t been Timothy’s sister, nothing would have changed, but talking about that now didn’t seem like it would help soothe Claire.

“……Then why were you kind to me?”

“Shouldn’t I do that much for a friend’s sister?”

“You knew that I don’t regard you as just my brother’s friend.”

“Claire.”

“Olivia Jennings.”

Claire, who had been staring at Richard frozen like a plaster statue at the name that came from his own mouth, stood up from her chair with tears welling in her eyes. The short sigh she let out as if she had expected it contained faint anger.

“I had vaguely felt that if it wasn’t something related to that woman, I couldn’t be included either. I’m not a fool, after all.”

Claire, who had come around the long chair and stood in front of Richard, looked at him with deer-like eyes, blinking. He instinctively felt he should distance himself from this situation, but somehow he was caught by that wet gaze and couldn’t move.

“I know you attended the party held at the Cavendish ducal residence the night before leaving London.”

He had instructed that no one should be informed of his arrival, and since he had left the place quickly, there wouldn’t be many people who knew. How did Claire know all of this? Richard continued to stare at Claire standing before him without saying anything.

“I saw you looking at that woman who was with Lord Crawford. …… It was a face worth seeing. Probably like my face right now.”

No way.

Richard, who had raised one hand to his forehead, couldn’t hide his troubled expression and closed his eyes. It wouldn’t be so. He couldn’t have made such a hurt face. Above all, he hadn’t cried like this. Yes, that couldn’t be.

“Whatever the reason, you decided not to go to that woman. Then don’t I still have a chance?”

“No. Nothing will change what’s between you and me. Just as it has been until now, you will continue to be Tim’s sister in the future, and you can’t hope for anything more from me.”

He wanted to soothe her as much as possible, but if that method didn’t work, there was no choice. From now on, he had no choice but to cut things off coldly and make her face reality.

He thought he had drawn proper lines until now, but since that approach didn’t work with Claire, he had no other option. He had to give up even the minimal things he had maintained out of consideration for his relationship with Timothy.

Richard turned away from Claire as he was. When he felt arms wrapping around his waist again, his head began to ache, but he didn’t just stand there doing nothing like before. Richard forcefully freed the clasped hands. No matter how stubborn Claire was, she couldn’t overcome the difference in strength. He could feel his shirt getting wet near his face, which still wouldn’t leave his back.

The reason he couldn’t turn around and stood there a little longer was to give Claire time to collect those tears. Since she was a young lady with as much pride as stubbornness, it would be Claire, not him, who would hate more than death to end things in such a state.

“In the end, you’re going to go. To that woman……”

Richard didn’t answer and headed toward the door. Claire’s wet screams poured out at his back as he left as if fleeing.

“At least I was honest until the end! I won’t do something as foolish as sending the person I like to someone else like someone did!”

When he came outside leaving Claire behind, Richard paused when he discovered Iris leaning against the closed door with a troubled face. She seemed to have missed the timing to return and had been standing there.

From her extremely troubled expression and behavior, it seemed she had heard the entire conversation inside.

Richard gestured to stop Iris, who was approaching while holding the book in her arms, and closed his eyes while running his hand through his hair.

“No. I don’t have the energy to deal with you too.”

“But—”

“Go and comfort Claire. I’m going back to London this way. Whenever you want, bring Claire back after I’ve left.”

“Richard!”

“This isn’t a request. It’s an order.”

Richard, who had turned around like that, walked away with large strides. So far and so fast that no one could catch him.

***

The events of the past few days seemed like a dream, even the brief moment of blinking an eye. Olivia was thinking this while looking at Vivian Bennett’s works that had returned to the romance novel corner of Little Fortune.

Just as they had disappeared without a trace, the books that had returned like magic without missing a single volume were also Richard Dalton’s handiwork. She hadn’t encountered him even once since leaving Sussex, the one who had returned the books saying there would be no more incidents like before so she needn’t worry.

The revised manuscript of the new work she had completed in the meantime had been returned with a skeptical response. The main reason for rejection was that serialization would probably be difficult with this. Since she had been thinking inwardly that it might be so, she wasn’t greatly surprised or disheartened. The problem was that Olivia herself had no proper solution to resolve that issue.

According to the original plan, she wasn’t even at a stage where a proper manuscript could come out. If a new book were to come out, she had hoped it would be at least after sharing a bed with someone, so that even if she wrote just one line, she would know what kind of experience that was.

However, the man she most wanted to drag into bed right now was rejecting her, and she had no such feelings toward the other two men who showed interest in her.

What kind of irony was this? After facing reality and understanding how ridiculous that dream with only grand ambitions had been, she seemed to understand a little.

Anyway, Olivia, who had returned to London, had to finally admit it. At least right now, the only man her body strongly desired was Richard Dalton.