The window, which had once offered a view of the scenery outside, now reflected Henrietta’s image. The pale colour of her face stood out starkly against the black of her dress. She deliberately turned her gaze away, focusing instead on the lavish bouquet on the table.

As she tried to guess the names of the richly blooming flowers, a voice announced Robert’s arrival.

“He has arrived.”

Henrietta rose to her feet. She tried to remain composed, but when their eyes met, it felt as if the air around her shifted and the heavy atmosphere reversed its flow.

“There’s no need to stand.”

His voice was calm and composed, as if nothing had ever happened between them.

As he took his seat, the waiting staff serving the food exchanged puzzled glances.

Henrietta clasped her hands tightly together, suddenly feeling as if the world was growing dark around her.

What on earth was he thinking?

Even if it was a private, formal dinner with no other guests, being invited to such an event was still considered an honour. Although there hadn’t been an explicit invitation, the master of the house acknowledging the guest as his equal in rank was implicit in the gesture.

Henrietta had written as much in the book she had published under another name.

In Baron Cohen, she had clearly stated that an invitation to a formal banquet proved social equality.

But now, sitting in this supposed seat of equality, Henrietta found herself wondering if that statement needed to be revised.

“Please, begin.”

She let out a deep breath as the servants began to bring a procession of dishes to the table. The fact that she had never attended a formal banquet before did not mean that she was unaware of the correct order and etiquette.

There were eight courses in total. With only the soup and fish courses served so far, she knew that the longest part remained: from the entrée to dessert.

Yet Robert, who had invited her to the dining room, remained silent as course after course was presented. Her worry that the conversation might turn to Hangderhood or the Jordy family had been unfounded.

“Your Grace.”

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Henrietta broke it. Robert nodded without lifting his gaze from the plate in front of him.

“Please dismiss the others.”

At her request, he finally put down the cutlery he had been holding. He slowly shifted his gaze to her and looked at her for a moment longer than usual. When he raised his hand, the attendants began moving quickly. Even as the remaining courses were hastily brought out, his eyes remained fixed on Henrietta.

Once the room was empty, only Robert, Henrietta and Pierre remained.

“I was planning to ask for a meeting anyway. There’s something I need to tell you.”

The table, now piled high with untouched food, had long since ceased to feel like a place for dining.

Robert leaned back in his chair and slowly lifted his head. Before him was a densely laid table with three lit candles burning in the centre and ornate floral arrangements adorning the setting — and him.

It was a scene she had once dreamed of.

And through that dreamlike tableau came his low voice.

“Speak.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to fulfil the full term of the contract.”

“So?”
“I’ll be ending the lessons today.”

She let out a deep breath as the servants began to bring a procession of dishes to the table. The fact that she had never attended a formal banquet before did not mean that she was unaware of the correct order and etiquette. There were eight courses in total. With only the soup and fish courses served so far, she knew that the longest part remained: from the entrée to dessert.

Yet Robert, who had invited her to the dining room, remained silent as course after course was presented. Her worry that the conversation might turn to Hangderhood or the Jordy family had been unfounded.

“Your Grace.”

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Henrietta broke it. Robert nodded without lifting his gaze from the plate in front of him.

“Please dismiss the others.”

At her request, he finally put down the cutlery he had been holding. He slowly shifted his gaze to her and looked at her for a moment longer than usual. When he raised his hand, the attendants began moving quickly. Even as the remaining courses were hastily brought out, his eyes remained fixed on Henrietta.

Once the room was empty, only Robert, Henrietta and Pierre remained.

“I was planning to ask for a meeting anyway. There’s something I need to tell you.”

The table, now piled high with untouched food, had long since ceased to feel like a place for dining.

Robert leaned back in his chair and slowly lifted his head. Before him was a densely laid table with three lit candles burning in the centre and ornate floral arrangements adorning the setting — and him.

It was a scene she had once dreamed of.

And through that dreamlike tableau came his low voice.

“Speak.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to fulfil the full term of the contract.”

Henrietta’s fingertips tingled beneath the weight of Robert’s intense, searing gaze. In the end, she was the one who looked away first. Still, she pressed on, her voice steady and clear.

“I’ll fulfill the terms of the contract as agreed—for failing to see it through to the end.”

Robert didn’t respond. The silence that followed was suffocating, wrapping around her like a tightening noose. To keep from showing that she was trembling, Henrietta clutched her napkin so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“Alright.”

With that single word, Robert shattered the tension and raised a crystal-clear glass to his lips.

“Perhaps stopping the lessons is for the best.”

It was unexpected—but exactly what she had been hoping to hear.

“Do you… really mean that?”
Henrietta lifted her head quickly, asking the question with hesitant urgency. Robert gave her a faint smile, one that was hard to read—somewhere between amusement and quiet disapproval.

Surprised by his expression, Henrietta blinked, uncertain.

“Yes. Things will get busy from now on. So waiting quietly without getting involved might not be such a bad idea. It won’t take long.”

“…What do you mean?”

“You can keep writing, if that’s what you want.”

At that, Henrietta froze, her brows knitting sharply. Robert, watching her reaction, calmly adjusted his posture and picked up the cutlery he had previously set aside.

“You didn’t think I knew? About your meetings with that publisher, Mark?”

“…You had me followed?”
Her voice turned sharp, almost accusing—but he didn’t answer. Instead, he began to slice his food with practiced, elegant precision.

“From now on, publish under your real name. There’s no need to hide behind a strange alias like Dunlop. You’re no longer Osborne’s illegitimate child—you’re going to be the emperor’s woman.”

Henrietta had written etiquette guides under the pen name Dunlop. The newly wealthy middle class, enriched by growing business ventures, had begun striving to emulate the upper class—the nobles and landowners.

Though they couldn’t sustain their lives on interest or land rents as the aristocracy did, they longed to mimic nobility in appearance and manner. What they needed were clear, concise books on the customs of high society—and Henrietta had written just that.

The morning after they had shared a night together, his cool, indifferent gaze cut through her like ice when their paths crossed. Surrounded by people as sharp as thorns, she stood alone, foolishly clinging to the hope of receiving some fleeting tenderness from him.

“Today, I want to end this. For good.”

“End? You mean it’s over?”

Robert let out a soft chuckle, as if amused by her boldness.

Of course. He was always like this—looking at her from above, as though she were a helpless thing already caught in his snare. Always deciding, on a whim, whether to crush or spare her.

“Yes. Over. No matter what you do to me, I won’t waver. There’s no reason for us to meet again.”

“Over… over, is it…”

He murmured the word as if trying to taste its finality. Then, in silence, he poured red wine into his empty glass. The smile that had lingered on his lips disappeared, replaced by a cold, unreadable expression.

The silence between them expanded, echoing the chasm that had always existed—a distance carved by misfortune, and perhaps, by fate.

The space between them felt as hollow as her heart. In truth, it had never been full. Though she had shared time with him, not once had she truly believed any of it belonged to her.

Spring had come and gone. Winter followed, and even when the frozen snow thawed and spring returned as if nothing had ever happened—nothing had changed.

They were still no closer than before. Not even by the width of a fingernail.

“It was around this time of year… when we first met.”