WBWB | Chapter 28

‘If only a kind woman who recognizes his real worth appears…’

“If this territory had a proper mistress, she could manage the affairs of this mansion and act as Your Grace’s representative, handling matters in your stead during your annual absences. Not only that, but she could also serve as a mother figure to Lady Ana. So, I…”

But even as I spoke, I felt a sense of unease.

“I hope Your Grace hasn’t given up on the possibility of finding an intelligent and kind woman as your wife.”

“What?”

“Because Your Grace is certainly worthy of being loved by such a woman.”

And as soon as I finished speaking, I realized I had just poked a sleeping lion.

“What…”

He looked as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

“What do you mean by that?”

Seeing his emerald eyes narrowing, I suddenly sobered up.

‘Gasp!’

I realized I had crossed a line. I had spoken out of turn, saying things that would be considered rude even between close acquaintances, and I had no right to say such things. 

What did I know about family? I, who had never even had a family of my own.

“I apologize! I misspoke! Please forgive me!”

Horrified by my own impudence, I hastily begged for forgiveness. I was so flustered that my hands trembled. But it was too late to take back my words.

“What do you know?”

He made no attempt to hide his displeasure. Like alcohol touched by a flame, the remaining effects of the drink vanished from my body. The rest of the meal had become more dangerous than the broken ice Lady Ana had fallen through.

For dessert, the dish I had been longing for appeared; crème brûlée. But I couldn’t taste the sweetness of the crackling sugar crust or the smooth custard beneath.

“…”

The Duke didn’t touch his dessert. He stood up and left without a word. Back in my room, I collapsed onto the bed, still in my dress.

‘What on earth have I done?’

As if I were someone qualified he could confide in. 

He had simply been voicing his thoughts, thinking aloud, and I had acted as if I knew everything.

‘Am I insane?’

Lying in bed, I regretted everything I had said, from beginning to end.

‘I can’t believe it. Why did I say those things?’

I couldn’t sleep that night. 

Not only was the image of his narrowed green eyes seared into my mind, but I also felt like I had lost my chance to write to my family.

‘How dare I provoke the man who holds my life in his hands?’

* * *

Meanwhile, Duke Baldr de Skadi was also having a sleepless night.

He stared at the ceiling, wide awake. Whether his eyes were open or closed, he saw the woman with brown eyes in the cream-colored dress.

‘Why did she say those things to me?’

The woman imprinted on his retinas wore a dress that seemed to belong to her, a perfect fit, and looked at him with eyes that held neither a smile nor fear.

‘Why, all of a sudden?’

To be honest, Baldr had been bewildered from the moment she entered the dining hall. Jeanne was different, almost as if she had cast some sort of spell. 

Who would recognize her as the same woman who had arrived at the mansion near death?

Her cheeks and lips were unusually flushed, and her eyes sparkled. Her eyes shone like stars, forcing Baldr to avert his gaze first, as if he were the one who had wronged her. 

It had been the same in his library yesterday. He found it difficult to meet her gaze directly. Yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Baldr couldn’t understand his own feelings. Objectively speaking, there were many women more beautiful than Jeanne de Toulouse.

He felt his mouth go dry and offered her a drink. And he drank as well. 

It was winter, and the alcohol served with meals was stronger than in other seasons to ward off the cold. Drinking strong alcohol in winter was as natural as breathing in Skadi, so it hadn’t occurred to him that she wouldn’t be accustomed to it. He hadn’t anticipated that the alcohol would not only make her eyes sparkle even brighter but also lead to what, from her perspective, was a grave misstep.

‘Marriage could be a solution for Your Grace, not a problem.’

So, what happened? Baldr was captivated by Jeanne’s words.

‘Your Grace seems to think that all princesses are like your mother, but just as not all men are the same, not all women are the same either.’

Baldr replayed her words in his mind, over and over, trying to decipher their meaning, until he was sick of them. But they wouldn’t go down, remaining in his stomach like a lump, tormenting him.

‘There might be someone out there who would appreciate Your Grace and this land for what they are. Wouldn’t it be a shame to give up on marriage too early based on assumptions?’

If anyone else had made such a presumptuous remark, Baldr would have simply shrugged it off in amusement.

‘I hope Your Grace hasn’t given up on the possibility of finding an intelligent and kind woman as your wife.’

But because it was Jeanne who had spoken those words, they held a strange power. Like magic. 

Baldr was so flustered that he lost his composure and fled the dining hall without finishing his meal. Naturally, he hadn’t been able to ask Jeanne how she liked the crème brûlée, a rare treat.

‘What do you know?’

Baldr, who had never known fear, had run away like a hunted animal.

‘What was she thinking when she said those things?’

The woman who had spoken those words was probably sleeping soundly right now, while he alone, was tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

‘Not all women are like my mother? What does she even know about my mother?’

He was reading far too much into her words, which had clearly crossed a line.

‘And besides, wouldn’t she herself, the one who said those things, leave this place without hesitation the moment she was free?’

Like many exiles before her, and like his mother, a princess of Lances, she probably couldn’t wait to leave. 

His mother had hated his father all her life. It had been a foregone conclusion that a princess would come to this land and marry the Duke, but she hadn’t imagined it would be her. His father had chosen his mother out of five sisters, and his mother had suffered for that choice throughout her short life.

If you hadn’t chosen me among us five sisters, if you had chosen another, if I hadn’t caught your eye…

His mother’s resentment grew stronger with time. Perhaps it was exacerbated by the fact that one of her sisters had remained unmarried, becoming a central figure in court life, with numerous lovers and scandals.

He and his brother had grown up watching their mother’s constant resentment towards their father. 

To him, it seemed as if his mother never tired of her anger. 

What if she had shown some affection towards her sons? 

But his mother, like other noblewomen, had delegated the tasks of breastfeeding to a wet nurse, playing to a nanny, and teaching to tutors. He had no complaints as they were all professionals. But perhaps because they were all chosen by his mother, they never crossed the line.

Baldr had grown up deprived of love. 

How could he not have felt it? A thirsty person could smell water from afar.

As a child, Baldr had wished his parents would divorce. Their marriage was like a union of fire and ice, a mutually destructive relationship. The more his mother raged, the more his father retreated further into his work, his wars, and his books, instead of engaging with her. And then his mother would sneer at him and his brother.

‘I thought I married a Duke, but it turns out he’s a scholar.’

His mother died when he was twelve. The cause of death was given as consumption and a cold, attributed to wearing too thin clothes in the middle of winter. However, the servants whispered that the Duchess had taken her own life.

He hadn’t been surprised, nor had he been sad. Although she was his mother, the woman who had given birth to him, she had been a distant and unfamiliar figure, both emotionally and physically.