CH 04

“I’ll help you all I can, whether you’re running away or disappearing.”

“If that really happens, you two will be the first suspects,” Vanessa replied with a light, almost joking laugh. Even if, by some miracle, she managed a clean escape, Wyatt was the kind of man who would search for her relentlessly, even if it took a lifetime. Her uncle was generally incompetent, but his dangerous connections were very real.

All those vagrants, gamblers, shadowy errand boys, and gang members… She didn’t know what kind of people he’d consorted with during his exile from the family, but her uncle’s ‘business’ seemed to stretch into some dark corners. Though it doesn’t seem to be very profitable.

According to her uncle, he’d started with a mountain of debt owed to the family. He claimed it was so bad that even selling the entire estate, both the castle and the townhouse in the capital, wouldn’t cover it. Any land holdings that could have generated income had long since been seized by the bank, and the family heirlooms had been sold off and squandered.

Now, the only ‘commodity’ left for the Somerset to sell was Vanessa herself. Around the time the gossipmongers started whispering about Lady Somerset’s beauty, her uncle’s focus had narrowed to a single point: selling his only remaining asset at a high price.

“There are plenty of people in the world eager to acquire a noble title, even if it’s just in name. As long as my value in the marriage market doesn’t plummet, Uncle won’t give up.”

“Still, you need to give yourself some breathing room. Don’t let him push you into another rash, ill-conceived scheme if you feel cornered.”

“Like that runaway incident when you were fourteen.” Blair chimed in with a smirk. Mortified, Vanessa felt her cheeks flush.

“That was ages ago… And it wasn’t even running away. I just went to visit my parents at the Melvin Cemetery on the anniversary of their death.”

“Whatever you want to call it, you were missing for three days and then the police brought you home.”

“Well, yes, but…”

“She gets strangely brave sometimes.” Rosaline shifted uncomfortably on the stiff chair, trying to find a less agonizing position. Honestly, if it weren’t for her concern for Vanessa, she wouldn’t stay in this dreadful place for a single day.

Even among the declining aristocracy, the Somerset were in a league of their own. Most of the furniture in the castle was damaged, and every single landscape painting in the hallway was a forgery.

All that remained was the clinging, desperate attempt to live off the scraps of the family’s faded glory. And this artful neglect… no respectable aristocratic family would treat their relatives or guests this way.

“It’s hot. Open the window wider.” At Rosaline’s languid request, Vanessa threw the half-open window wide. A rush of air billowed the white curtains inward. The air was still cool, but the sun was as strong as midsummer. Vanessa pulled a chair over and leaned against the windowsill, languid as a cat.

The twins’ attention had shifted to their dissertations, society gossip, and frivolous banter. Vanessa let their conversation wash over her as she gazed out at the garden below.

The drawing-room window was one of her favorite spots in Gloucester Castle. From here, she could look down upon her mother’s rose garden. It had been neglected for so long that it was difficult to see its former glory, but a quiet beauty remained.

The overgrown poplars and heather bushes, the shed where the gardening tools were kept, the wild roses that would soon bloom in profusion, and…

It was then that she heard a rustle beneath the window. Vanessa straightened, lifting her head from the sill. The rose garden was usually deserted. Had Mr. Ross, the gardener, returned already? He’d said he was going to Bath station to pick up his nephew, who was going to help him during the holidays.

Perhaps some clueless worker had trespassed into her late mother’s garden. She was wondering what to do when a strange man emerged from the bushes. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as if he’d been working, and his raven-black hair was tousled. The lush foliage cast a shadow across half his face.

Who is that? Vanessa held her breath, watching him. In the shade of the trees, the man looked like a predator lying in wait. She had the distinct impression he was trying to avoid being seen.

As she watched, the man took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it—a shockingly disrespectful act in the dry, untended garden. Startled, she gripped the window frame. Creak. The hinges groaned under the sudden movement.

The man’s head snapped up. Their eyes met—eyes as deep and dark as the ocean. For a moment, Vanessa felt a strange breathlessness, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.

“….”

His gaze slowly swept over her. Vanessa bit her lip until it turned white. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. It was unbelievable that a mere worker would dare look at her with such boldness… and yet, she was strangely curious about how she appeared to him in that moment.

“Vanessa.”

Blair’s voice behind her made her jump. Her heart pounded as if she’d been caught in some illicit act.

“Yes?”

“What’s with you?”

“Oh, nothing…”

Her reaction must have seemed suspicious, because Blair strode over and stood beside her. As he carefully peered out the window, Vanessa unconsciously bit her lip and clasped her hands together.

Why was she so nervous? It was just a worker sneaking into the garden. If anyone was going to get in trouble, it would be him.

A moment passed, feeling like an eternity. Then, Blair let out a short, dismissive laugh.

“There’s really nothing there.”

“What?”

“Was there a cat or something?”

…Nothing there? Impossible. Vanessa frantically looked out the window, but the spot beneath the tree where the man had been standing was empty. As if he were a phantom conjured by the shimmering summer heat.

Who was he? She silently repeated the question she couldn’t bring herself to voice aloud.

“Speaking of which, Enoch sent an invitation for tea.” Rosaline, who had rung the bell several times for the perpetually absent maid, spoke in a strangely excited tone. Blair, who had been about to pick up his teacup again, stiffened slightly.

“Enoch Berkshire? He’s here in the South? What about the superior officer he was always trailing after?”

“He’s completely vanished for some reason. Speculation is he’s somewhere in the South. That’s what my sources tell me.”

“Who vanished?” Still lost in a dreamlike state, Vanessa asked vaguely. She’d interjected into the conversation impulsively, drawn in by the unfamiliar topic. She had just seen a strange man in a familiar garden, and somehow, it felt connected.

“The Duke of Batenberg.” Rosaline offered only the name, as if that single word should explain everything, including her unusual excitement.

Vanessa blinked, bewildered. Rosaline, realizing her oversight, quickly added, “Oh, I completely forgot you haven’t made your debut yet… It’s understandable if you’re not familiar with him.”

“Vanessa spent most of her holidays buried in books at boarding school. It’s no wonder she wouldn’t know. Besides, the only publicly known image of the Duke is a photograph taken at his mother’s funeral when he was eight or nine.”

“Yes, that famous photo. Even then, he had a face that promised a remarkable future.”

“Generous praise, Rosaline.”

“He rarely attends social events, so I’ve only seen him once from afar. He’s a sight for sore eyes. He’s twenty-three this year. Returned from the Principality of Hesse about six years ago, graduated from the Royal Naval Academy, and is serving as a Lieutenant Commander.” Rosaline, after her haughty assessment, suddenly blushed and added, “Rumor has it he’s looking for a wife during this leave. He seems to have received an extended holiday after his distinguished service in the Battle of Potsdam.”

Something stirred vaguely in Vanessa’s memory. The headline in the newspaper the girls at boarding school had been passing around: ‘The Hero of the Battle of Potsdam.’ It hadn’t been a topic that captured her interest, but she remembered he’d been immensely popular.

“The young ladies in the capital must be terribly disappointed. What could he possibly find of interest in this dreary South?” Rosaline nudged Blair’s side, glancing at Vanessa. Vanessa, of course, wasn’t bothered in the slightest. She wholeheartedly agreed that the South was dull.

A region resistant to change and slow to embrace anything new. She would bet her favorite fountain pen that the South, and Gloucester in particular, was the last place in all of Ingram to get electricity.

In any case, Vanessa quickly lost interest in the topic. The man with the cigarette, a habit fit for servants, couldn’t possibly be the gentleman from the society pages.

“What on earth would a man like that be doing all the way out here in the South?”

“Who knows?” Blair scoffed cynically.“Perhaps he’s gone mad and developed a sudden eccentricity.”

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