Chapter 28
The contents of the invitation, upon opening, were brief.
It contained a few polite greetings, along with the message from Duke Alexis, stating his desire to see me.
“If you don’t wish to meet, there’s no reason to force it. I’ll respect your decision.”
“…”
Why would Rozian want to see me?
I pictured Rozian, whose youthful face had remained unchanged for over a decade.
It wasn’t surprising that the emperor had fallen for a man like Rozian, given his enchanting beauty.
“There’s no particular reason to refuse to meet, either,” I said, folding the invitation neatly in half.
“Besides, Rozian has been asking about you, Your Grace.”
“…”
“He mentioned that you haven’t been visiting the temple lately.”
A sharp intake of breath filled the room. Duke Alexis’s expression revealed a hint of unease, as though a secret had been unintentionally exposed. After all, there seemed little reason for a man like him, hardly a devout follower, to frequent the temple.
“Could it be…?”
My question caused him to flinch.
“Are you unwell, Your Grace?”
“That’s impossible.”
“Indeed, that would be hard to imagine.”
Of course, it was only natural that even Duke Alexis might experience illness, yet the notion of him being in poor health felt strangely implausible.
“I’ll send an invitation for the visit.”
“Please do.”
With those final words, I quietly left the study.
What could Rozian want to discuss privately with April? Perhaps it was about the annulment.
I scratched my forehead lightly, walking slowly over the soft carpet of the hallway.
“Miss, are you finished speaking with the Duke?”
Patrick stood by with a tray holding a glass of water and a very small pouch, seemingly waiting to enter the study.
I glanced curiously at the pouch, prompting Patrick to speak carefully.
“His Grace has been deeply concerned about you.”
“Is that so? He expressed his worries, then?”
“…”
“And I reminded him that he no longer has the right to do so.”
“…Miss.”
He looked at me with a tinge of sadness, as if silently hoping I might forgive the Duke’s household someday.
Whether it was because the Duke had promised me ample recompense or for other reasons, Patrick’s actions felt like a subtle insistence that I should forgive. I suppressed the irritation rising within me.
“Butler, is the Duke truly unwell?”
“Certainly not.”
His immediate denial made me frown slightly.
“He’s in excellent health.”
“Is that so?”
“Were you, perhaps, concerned for him?”
A glimmer of hope flickered in his gray eyes, but I merely smiled.
“As if.”
With those words, I crushed any trace of optimism in his gaze.
Watching Irina walk away, Patrick’s hopeful smile faded, leaving his expression devoid of warmth. He knocked gently on the wooden door with measured steps.
“Come in.”
With the Duke’s terse invitation, Patrick carefully opened the door.
Inside, Duke Alexis sat looking utterly weary. His gray-blue eyes met Patrick’s, and he gestured for him to enter.
Setting the glass of water and the small pouch on the desk, Patrick discreetly observed the Duke’s complexion.
Since the onset of Aglitini, a disease that gradually stiffened the heart, it had been nearly impossible to find any healthy color in the Duke’s face.
“The young lady expressed concern for you.”
“Irina did?”
Despite his attempt to sound indifferent, the fact that he had even asked suggested that the notion had affected him somehow.
If Miss Irina truly had no intention of forgiveness, she wouldn’t have come to this house, nor would she have inquired about the Duke’s health.
Even if it was overly optimistic, Patrick clung to this hope.
Though he knew it was shameless, he wished, somehow, to restore things with Irina. Even if their relationship couldn’t return to what it was, he wished to earn at least a small measure of forgiveness for having pushed her away so harshly.
With a small nod of agreement, Patrick met the Duke’s gaze. Alexis let out a faint, bitter laugh.
“Absurd.”
Yet it was a lie that even he could not fully believe.
A wry smile crossed Patrick’s face as he observed the Duke’s disbelief. Leaning back in his chair, Duke Alexis lowered his gaze thoughtfully.
It was they who had first abandoned Irina. There was little wonder she harbored contempt and bitterness toward the ducal family. Yet, within her scorn, there seemed to be something more.
Straightening in his seat, Duke Alexis conceded to himself that Irina’s words had been true. He remembered vividly how they had taken her from her father, Daniel.
They had essentially wrested her from him, swaying the man with money and intimidation, unwilling to let him keep her despite his determination to protect her.
“The Duke and Duchess may take Irina as they wish. But I have one condition.”
Expecting a demand for a vast sum in exchange for his beloved daughter, Duke Alexis had been prepared to pay whatever was asked.
“Name the amount,” he’d started.
“I don’t want money.”
For a moment, he’d thought it was guilt preventing Daniel from taking money for his daughter. But Daniel’s words had surprised him.
“All I ask is that you protect her to the end, that you cherish her as your daughter.”
Daniel’s expression had been as solid as stone.
“That’s my condition.”
Though he’d been offered an amount that would ensure financial security for life, Daniel had stood firm, refusing anything more.
Duke Alexis moistened his dry lips.
“Come to think of it, I haven’t inquired about him.”
“Who, Your Grace?”
“Irina’s father.”
Reflecting on it, Duke Alexis realized he’d paid little attention to Daniel since Irina first arrived at the estate.
Although Daniel had refused financial support, Duchess Angelica had been sending him a stipend and medicine every month. Irina herself had never mentioned her father, even upon her return to the estate after his passing.
“Patrick.”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Look into Irina’s father.”
“…Pardon?”
Despite his pallor, Duke Alexis’s blue eyes blazed fiercely, reminiscent of his youth on the battlefield.
“I want to know what became of him.”
“Tamitarthe, about today’s medicine…”
A priest entering the room to greet Tamitarthe halted in surprise.
The beautiful face, normally as calm as the visage of a god, was set in stone, as was the expression of the knight standing beside her.
“There must have been trouble at the royal palace.”
Sensing the tension, the priest tactfully excused himself.
Throwing open the door to her quarters, Tamitarthe pushed back her long lavender hair.
“You…!”
Holding back a curse, she clenched her teeth.
Between chestnut and sunset hues, her hair and eyes were unmistakable.
“Bliss, did you see?”
As she asked her guard, the Holy Knight Bliss, he nodded gravely.
The woman lingering near the temple entrance was unmistakably Bernice Devine.
“How is Bernice…?”
He chewed his nails nervously.
Though she looked a bit older, the image of Bernice Devine remained as he remembered.
And how could she possibly still be alive…?
“Dammit, you fool!”
Cursing himself, Tamitarthe messed her hair in frustration as she sank to her knees.
“Someone will hear you.”
“Let them, damn it!”
Though she wanted to vent, the thought of temple staff learning that she was distressed over Bernice Devine made her think better of it.
“Lady Bernice’s death was certain, wasn’t it?”
Her pale blue eyes glinted with worry, and Bliss nodded faintly.
It had been public; Bernice’s death was witnessed by all at the square, her body even displayed afterward.
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