CHAPTER 46………………………………
If You Were Hildegard
Noticing the sky turning orange, Anze began tidying up her desk. She placed a report on the duke’s desk, and as she turned her gaze, her eyes caught the empty chair—its owner absent once again.
Since the banquet ended, the duke had become even busier.
Before, he used to handle outside affairs in the morning and administrative work for the duchy in the afternoon. But lately, she hardly saw his face all day.
“Well, it’s convenient for me.”
She’d finish the tasks Elliott gave her in the morning by the afternoon—then clock out right on time.
Most of the assignments matched her ability just fine, nothing too stressful. It was, in every sense, the office life she had always dreamed of.
Maybe that’s why even her face, which people used to say looked too thin, had filled out a little. According to Mariana, her skin looked brighter too.
“Please stay busy forever,” she muttered.
She hoped the duchy’s business would continue to flourish—so much so that she’d never have to see the duke’s face.
Humming, Anze stepped into the dining hall—and froze in place.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. No greeting?”
At the long dining table, instead of the duchess dowager and Mariana, sat the duke—alone.
And that’s why people say not to jinx yourself.
Cursing her earlier thoughts, Anze forced an awkward smile.
“It’s been a while, Your Grace.”
Indeed, it had been a while. Her superior’s face looked thinner, wearier—the exact opposite of her own.
His sharper jawline and high-bridged nose made him look even more severe.
“That’s all you have to say after all this time?”
What more do you want?
“Enjoy your meal?”
She gave a small bow and began to turn away.
Missing one dinner wouldn’t kill her. In fact, she’d been eating too well lately—maybe it was time for a little diet.
“Stop.”
The duke’s command came before she reached the door.
“Have a pleasant meal, Your Grace. I’m not very hungry right now.”
“Have you forgotten our agreement? You were to dine with me each evening and report the day’s events or any new findings.”
“Oh…”
Anze frowned, recalling it belatedly.
Though, to be fair, that “agreement” had been a one-sided order.
She glared at the dishes on the table in helpless resentment—but the food had done nothing wrong.
Her stomach, utterly tactless, growled loudly.
The duke chuckled. “Your stomach seems to disagree with your words. Sit down before the food gets cold.”
With no choice, Anze approached the table. The duke rose from his seat and pulled out her chair for her.
The gesture was so overly polite that it made her hesitate. The duke, already seated again, began cutting into his steak.
“I heard you like lamb.”
“Yes, well…”
The savory aroma of grilled lamb rose from the plate. Still, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to digest it.
As she stared at the food, the duke reached out—switching their plates. He slid the plate of neatly cut meat toward her and took hers in exchange.
That gentle hand—surely she was imagining things.
“Your Grace, I can cut my own meat.”
“Go on, eat.”
“Did you eat something strange, sir?”
“The food’s getting cold.”
“Or did I do something wrong? Is this my last supper or something?”
Ignoring her nonsense, the duke calmly sliced his own portion and took a bite.
Even such a simple act—cutting and eating meat—was graceful, not a movement out of place.
Giving up on conversation, Anze finally picked up her fork. The smell was far too tempting to resist.
It’s just my imagination…
No matter what people said, Duke Seid was nobility to his very bones.
There was no way someone like him would take an interest in a woman from the slums.
Especially since, in the novel, he’d despised and even killed her.
So, that fleeting kiss on the cheek at the banquet, pulling out her chair, cutting her meat—those were all just professional gestures. Yes, work!
…Work?
As she was about to take a bite, Anze froze. She’d completely forgotten something important.
“Um, Your Grace, I had a question.”
The duke looked up. Noticing her untouched plate, he frowned.
“Speak.”
“The investigation’s been taking some time, but there’s really nothing questionable about Lady Hildegard.”
“Hmm.”
The duke’s hand slowed, then he set down his utensils.
“And?”
“I know it’s presumptuous of me, but… why do you dislike Lady Hildegard so much?”
“I don’t dislike her.”
Of course.
Anze’s face brightened. Despite all the rumors, it seemed inevitable that the duke and Hildegard would marry.
“But I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.”
What?
Her smile froze midair.
“May I ask what you mean?”
“When you’re at war,” the duke began, picking up his utensils again, “there are days when everything seems to go perfectly.”
He cut a large piece of meat and smiled faintly as he ate.
“The weather’s clear, the soldiers are in top form. You march toward the enemy, and nothing stands in your way. Even the wind seems to push you forward. And yet, the result?”
“…”
“A catastrophic defeat. We thought nothing could stop us, but the enemy was lying in wait, hidden. The same wind we thought was our ally carried their fire arrows straight into our camp. The dry, cloudless weather—what we thought was good fortune—made the fires impossible to put out.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with Lady Hildegard.”
The duke dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then picked up his wine glass. The deep red liquid shimmered as he slowly swirled it.
“I lost half my men in that battle. We were so sure of victory—and that was precisely why we failed. Looking back, there were signs. The dryness of the air, the shape of the valley, perfect for ambush. I ignored them because I was arrogant.”
Okay, but still—what does that have to do with her?
“I understand that you learned humility in war, Your Grace, but I still don’t see how that relates to delaying your marriage.”
The duke set down his glass and fixed his gaze on her.
“You said you could find no fault in Hildegard Crow, correct?”
“Yes. She’s so perfect I can’t understand why you’d hesitate to marry her.”
“That’s exactly what troubles me. Why is someone so perfect so desperate to marry me?”
Leaning slightly forward, the duke rested his elbows on the table and looked directly at Anze.
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-one.”
“The same age as you, then. So—when are you planning to marry?”
Why is this turning on me?
Puzzled, Anze still answered honestly.
“I’m not really thinking about marriage right now.”
Not that she could even if she wanted to—she had neither a man nor the money. But pride wouldn’t let her admit that.
“See? Same age. So why is Hildegard so desperate to marry me when you’re not even interested in romance? She’s prettier, smarter, richer—the Crow family’s heir. So why? Because I’m handsome? A prize worth chasing? Perhaps. But still.”
The duke’s eyes gleamed as he asked,
“Put yourself in her place. If you were Hildegard, would you go to such lengths to marry me? Send me a proposal herself, remember my family’s obscure anniversaries with gifts and flowers, try to win over my mother and sister before we’re even engaged?”
“First off, I take back what I said about you learning humility. And honestly? If I were her, I’d rather go traveling than marry you.”
The duke stared, speechless for a moment.
“I suspected you’d say that, but you didn’t have to be so blunt.”
He tried to look unaffected, but the tightness in his brow and jaw gave him away.
“I’ll give you another chance. Marrying me wouldn’t be that terrible.”
She didn’t need another chance. Knowing how things turned out in the novel, her answer would always be the same.
“I would never—”
“Wait!”
The duke raised his index finger to stop her.
“I’ll give you one more chance.”
What on earth is he doing? Anze wrinkled her nose.
“I don’t need a chance. My answer won’t change.”
That’s right! Tell him!