Chapter 28
For nobles, status and reputation were as precious as life itself.
That’s why no father wanted his daughter’s honor — or his family’s — stained by a shameless man like Rickman.
“What is this commotion at a pleasant party?”
Just as Rickman was being cornered, the Marchioness of Norris appeared. She had changed dresses — likely after a brief rest — and now looked every bit the dignified hostess again.
Her face was stiff, clearly displeased that her carefully planned party had turned into a scandal.
As her sharp gaze swept across the room, it stopped abruptly on Agnès.
“Lady Everchen! What happened to your face? You didn’t look like that when you arrived earlier.”
The sudden attention made Agnès uncomfortable, but she kept her composure. Covering her cheek slightly, she said calmly,
“It’s all right. It’s just a small scratch.”
Then, without a word, she glanced toward Rickman.
Naturally, everyone else did too.
The curious eyes that had been watching now filled with open disgust.
The Marchioness didn’t question Agnès further — instead, she walked straight toward Rickman.
“Count Overhan,” she said coolly, “you seem quite tired these days. I suggest you go home and rest. Don’t mind this old lady.”
Even her politeness lacked warmth — a clear and public dismissal.
Rickman’s face went pale with shock, then flushed red with humiliation.
Clinging to his last shred of pride, he tried to bow and kiss the back of her hand, but the Marchioness deliberately ignored the gesture and turned away, ensuring his disgrace was complete.
Grinding his teeth, Rickman had no choice but to leave.
Once he was gone, the party finally settled back into peace.
People still hesitated to approach Dylan directly — the Duke’s presence was intimidating — but when Agnès stood beside him, they found it easier to speak.
Some even took this as their chance to flatter Dylan openly.
He never reacted, but Agnès noticed the slight twitch of his eyebrow each time — subtle, but unmistakable.
He had never liked large social gatherings like this. He was here only for her sake.
Now that everything that needed to be shown had been shown, Agnès decided it was time to go.
Touching her cheek — which had long since stopped hurting — she sighed dramatically.
“It still aches a little,” she said playfully.
Dylan immediately understood what she meant.
Leaning down so his tall frame matched her height, he gently brushed his fingers over her cheek.
“You should have it treated properly,” he said.
“Oh dear… won’t the Marchioness be offended if we leave early?”
“She’ll understand,” he replied simply.
With one arm protectively around her shoulders, Dylan led her to the Marchioness to bid farewell.
Though the Marchioness seemed reluctant to let them go, she didn’t insist — after all, Agnès had been through enough unpleasantness that evening.
Several young ladies also came to say their goodbyes, expressing how much they had enjoyed speaking with Agnès and hoping to see her again soon.
For the first time in a long while, Agnès left a gathering surrounded by kindness instead of scorn.
Her steps were light as she walked out.
Dylan, meanwhile, was certain that through the upcoming trial, Noah would soon be safely brought to them.
Rickman would never be able to harm Agnès again.
It was all thanks to Dylan.
As Agnès sat in the carriage, she took a deep breath — but her heart kept racing. Everything seemed to be going so well that it almost made her nervous.
Across from her, Dylan watched her flushed cheeks and unsteady breathing with concern.
“I thought you only said that to leave early,” he said softly. “Are you truly feeling unwell?”
“No. Not at all,” she said quickly, smiling. “It was just an excuse.”
Her face was rosy, her golden eyes bright with energy. Usually so calm and composed, now she kept glancing out the window, unable to sit still.
Dylan couldn’t look away from her.
Kalli’s teasing words echoed faintly in his mind — ‘So you like quiet, graceful women, huh?’
It didn’t matter whether she fit his “type” or not. They were bound by a contract, and soon they’d be living under the same roof.
But when he looked at her, she didn’t seem merely graceful. There was something secret, almost girlish, hiding behind her composure.
He found himself… curious.
At last, Agnès seemed to calm down and looked up at him.
“The Marchioness of Norris seems very fond of you, Your Grace,” she said lightly.
“I used to visit her often when the late emperor was still alive,” Dylan replied. “She was fond of me because I played chess better than His Majesty.”
He paused, watching Agnès’s expression.
Her face was calm, as always — like still water — but her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity.
She wasn’t fishing for gossip or trying to flatter him. She truly wanted to know more about him.
And Dylan… didn’t mind that at all.
“She had a special kind of influence,” he explained, “the kind that could make the late emperor himself step aside. Even if he was displeased, she never bent to his will.”
“Friendship comes from the heart,” Agnès said with a small smile. “Rank has nothing to do with it.”
Her quiet laughter made the air lighter.
“Do you enjoy stories like this?” Dylan asked.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Because you sound a little different when you talk about people you care about.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow.
He didn’t agree. That kind of observation might suit Kalli — who hid his playful nature under royal dignity — or Serene, who liked to act demure while teasing everyone.
Even the High Priest, who had known the three siblings since childhood, had never accused Dylan of changing his tone for anyone.
And yet…
“Heh. You don’t believe me, do you?” Agnès teased.
“That’s because there’s no difference,” Dylan said flatly.
Instead of arguing, Agnès just shrugged, turning her head slightly with a mischievous smile.
Watching her, Dylan couldn’t help but think that she was the one who acted differently depending on who was watching — not him.
Was the perfectly composed lady her true self?
Or was it the curious, spirited woman who peeked out at unexpected moments?
Suddenly, he found himself wondering what she would be like with Noah.
Would she be the world’s gentlest, most loving mother?
Strict but fair?
Or a warm, playful one who got down to her child’s level?
Whatever the answer, Dylan was certain of one thing —
he was actually looking forward to the day Noah would finally come to live at the Basteron estate.
***
A few days later…
When Agnès said she wanted to visit the Overhan townhouse before the trial, everyone in House Basteron protested at once.
“I really must object,” said Sharon, the head maid. “From what I’ve heard, that scoundrel — I mean, the count — is a terrible man. I know you’re smart enough to handle him, my lady, but you don’t have to walk into danger yourself.”
Next was Pavel, the knight assigned as her escort ever since the detective agency incident.
“I agree,” he said. “Even when he stood face-to-face with an armed knight, he didn’t show the slightest fear or caution. That kind of man is either overly confident in his strength… or insane. I believe you already know which one he is.”
Finally, even Gaveline — the usually cold and composed butler — spoke up.
“The Count’s reputation is in ruins, my lady. As the Duke’s fiancée, you shouldn’t be seen with such a man.”
Everyone opposed the idea.
Everyone… except Dylan.
“If you go with the level of protection I’ll arrange,” he said evenly, “then you may go.”
“Really?” Agnès asked, surprised.
“Of course. You’re free to go wherever you wish,” Dylan said, his gaze steady. “As long as you return to me.”
The words sounded unexpectedly intimate.
Everyone in the room averted their eyes awkwardly, clearing their throats.
Even Agnès felt her cheeks grow warm.
But she reminded herself that it was a contractual relationship. It was only natural for him to care about her safety.
“This is my home now — Basteron,” she said with a smile. “You don’t need to worry.”
Dylan’s lips curved slightly, satisfied.
It was almost time for her to “offer blood” again — their unspoken arrangement.
Once she returned from Overhan, she planned to meet with him and give her report… during their usual “meal.”
“I’ll be back by evening,” she promised, meeting his eyes.
Dylan gave a small nod, understanding the hidden meaning in her words.
He didn’t like their “meal” — she knew that — but he never refused it either.
And instead of showing any trace of distaste, he simply wore his perfect royal composure and said quietly,
“Go safely. I’ll have Pavel make the necessary arrangements for your escort.”
As always, Dylan was the ideal partner — steadfast and reliable.
But beyond that strength, there was also a wall — tall and unyielding — between them.
And Agnès knew, deep down, that no matter how much time passed…
she might never be able to cross it.
