CHAPTER~03
The Fiancé’s Older Brother
“Young Lady?”
The man looking down at her narrowed his eyes as if studying her reaction.
Yvonne came to her senses a beat too late.
“Ah…”
Only then did she notice that he was gesturing toward the jacket draped over his arm.
The man looked like a noble at first glance.
Not only his refined clothes and elegant features but also the naturally restrained, dignified movements—everything about him radiated nobility.
He was likely offering help purely as a gentleman.
But an unmarried lady accepting a stranger’s jacket—especially from a man—would not look proper.
Yvonne declined his offer.
“I appreciate it, but I’m fine.”
“Are you sure you’re fine?”
Tilting his head slightly, the man stared at her with those unfathomable eyes—eyes that seemed to see straight through everything.
“You don’t look well.”
He was right. She wasn’t fine.
Ever since she stepped off the train, she had been tense. Cold sweat had dampened her clothes, and the chill was sinking into her bones.
But accepting kindness from a stranger—worse, a strange man—felt uncomfortable.
Just as Yvonne prepared to refuse once more, he held the coat out to her.
“Wear it. Or at least drape it over yourself.”
While she hesitated, the man turned away with the attendant who had come to escort him—leaving the coat in her hands as if it now belonged to her.
“W–wait!” Yvonne grabbed his sleeve, and the man turned back.
Realizing what she had done, she panicked and let go immediately. She held the coat out to him.
“I can’t accept something so valuable. Please take it back.”
Surprised for a moment, he let out a soft laugh.
“Then return it to me next time.”
“N–next time…?”
“We’ll see each other again.”
Luchellen is small, after all.
Speaking with quiet certainty, he walked away without reclaiming the jacket.
Yvonne watched him disappear into the rain. Only after his carriage departed did she look down at the coat.
It carried a faint, pleasant scent—of cool wind and fresh water.
She realized she hadn’t even thanked him, let alone asked his name.
But it was too late now.
However, just a few days later, as the man had said—Yvonne saw him again.
—
The rain had cleared, and early spring sunlight warmed the outskirts of Luchellen.
The front of the church overflowed with mourners.
They had all gathered for the funeral of Marcus Glaston, the only son of Carlyle Glaston.
On the surface, they were here to express condolences.
But their true reason was different.
Marcus Glaston, despite being a commoner, had been an unimpressive man.
Unlike his father Carlyle, he had amassed no fortune.
Unlike his half-brother Cedric, who had supported the war effort and been knighted, he had achieved nothing of worth.
If he had anything to boast about, it was simply his handsome face—a face that had charmed many women.
Even so, the reason so many people attended his funeral was simple.
First—to gain favor with Carlyle Glaston, one of the most powerful men in the kingdom.
Second—A cry rose from the crowd, and every head turned toward the sound of approaching wheels.
The carriage of the Duke of Leroy appeared.
When it stopped, a sharp-eyed middle-aged man stepped out.
Just behind him came a young woman with brown hair matching his own.
Her face was unfamiliar—but the crowd quickly realized who she was.
Yvonne Leroy, the duke’s only daughter, long rumored to be living in seclusion due to illness.
Logan accepted the attention with practiced ease and murmured a warning only she would hear.
“Keep your wits about you, so no one discovers your lowly origins.”
“…Yes, Father.”
Father.
Though she had called both her birth father and Logan that term for over twenty years, the word still scratched her throat like sand.
It had never felt natural—not even once.
While she wrestled with the discomfort of that word—
“Yvonne?”
A noble young lady suddenly appeared between the watching crowd.
She stared at Yvonne for a long moment, then grabbed her arm naturally.
“Heavens, it really is you? I almost didn’t recognize you. If not for the duke, I wouldn’t have known at all. Hello, Your Grace— you remember me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. Yvonne, you remember her too, don’t you? Lady Nadia of the Lopez County—your friend.”
Logan was feeding her information.
Just as Yvonne prepared to greet her, another woman approached.
“It’s been a while, Your Grace. Have you been well?”
The resemblance in appearance and style made it clear that this was the Countess of Lopez.
“Thanks to you. I hear the count’s business is doing well. I suppose that’s why he couldn’t attend.”
As the adults exchanged polite greetings, Nadia leaned in.
“Sorry to interrupt, but may I take Yvonne inside first?”
“Nadia. I know you’re happy to see your friend, but we’re here to pay respects. Don’t be loud.”
“Lady Nadia is a polite young lady. I’m sure she’ll behave.”
Logan added smoothly, “Yvonne has been away from the capital for so long that she isn’t familiar with its customs. It would be helpful if you guided her.”
He played the role of a strict but caring father flawlessly.
“Of course. That’s what friends are for.”
Nadia looped her arm through Yvonne’s and beamed.
“Let’s go, Yvonne.”
The unfamiliar warmth of her grip and the sharp perfume made Yvonne instinctively recoil—but she hid her discomfort and followed.
Inside, the church was crowded with mourners.
Nadia navigated through them skillfully, whispering,
“By the way, I heard you’re engaged to Sir Derrick?”
“How did you know?”
Yvonne widened her eyes. The engagement hadn’t been announced yet.
“Oh, you really don’t know anything about the capital, do you? You’re practically a country girl.”
Nadia laughed—a laugh tinged with mockery.
“Rumors spread the day you arrived. If you tell someone something, assume the entire capital knows by the next day.”
Yvonne was beginning to understand how true that old saying about the capital’s ‘eyes and ears’ was.
“Anyway,” Nadia continued, “could you help me with something?”
People who seek favors right after reuniting—or meeting for the first time—rarely have good intentions.
Having lived most of her life as a commoner, Yvonne instinctively sensed something unpleasant.
So she asked cautiously,
“…What kind of help?”
“You’re Sir Derrick’s fiancée, right? Then could you introduce me to Sir Cedric?”
If it was Cedric Glaston, he was Derrick’s older half-brother.
Yvonne finally understood why Nadia had approached her so eagerly after all these years.
“We’re friends, aren’t we? Wouldn’t you rather have me as family than some stranger?”
Yvonne didn’t care who joined the Glaston family.
She planned to leave the capital before her wedding and go find her mother.
But Nadia clearly didn’t care what Yvonne thought.
“Oh, right—you haven’t even seen your fiancé’s face yet, have you?”
Pulling Yvonne closer, she gestured toward the front of the church.
“Look. The one with the dark-brown eyes—that’s Sir Derrick.”
Two blond men stood there.
They looked similar at a glance, but their presence differed sharply.
Derrick radiated a bold, refreshing energy.
“And the blue-eyed one next to him is Sir Cedric.”
Cedric, with his cold gaze, exuded the effortless grace of a born noble.
Yvonne’s eyes trembled as she looked at him—
because yesterday’s vivid memory crashed over her.
“Then return it to me next time.
We’ll see each other again.”
Cedric Glaston.
The very man who had shown her kindness at the train station.
—
