Life as the Baroness of Beresford was monotonous.
Luke, who had risen from volunteer soldier to knight, left the estate early each morning to report to the royal castle. His baronial title was nothing more than ornamental; his true occupation remained that of a knight.
True to his word, Luke soon hired female attendants.
They were either young widows who had lost their husbands, or girls who had just come from the countryside to seek work. It was clear that Luke had struggled to gather them together. The women, too, seemed to feel indebted to him for employing them, and they showed proper respect to Camilla as his wife.
The male servants, who were said to be Luke’s former comrades, were likewise warm and good-natured.
They would laugh and say, “To think little Luke would take such a beautiful lady for his wife!” and regale her with stories of his childhood and his days serving as a soldier in the war.
From what they told her, Luke had been born a commoner in a foreign land. After losing his family to war, he became a mercenary. At the age of ten, he came to the Kingdom of Lapladia, later enlisted as a volunteer, and learned not only how to fight, but how to command men.
In the conflict with the border tribes that had broken out the year before, the enemy had brought forth a magical artifact believed to have been lost since ancient times.
Such artifacts, created by the long-extinct mage order, were equivalent to weapons of mass destruction, and with magic itself has vanished from the world, every nation forbade their use.
The tribes were apparently descendants of mages, and had attempted to seize Lapladia by employing such a device.
Caught off guard by the presence of forbidden magic, the royal army fell into confusion. Amid that chaos, Luke, only fifteen at the time, cut down the enemy with superb swordsmanship and issued precise commands that led the troops to victory. That, they said, was what caught the king’s eye.
Everyone had been delighted when Luke earned the king’s favor and was knighted. Though they themselves had retired due to injuries sustained in battle, they felt no dissatisfaction at all in serving at Luke’s estate and attending to him and his wife.
(They are kind to me as well.)
After seeing off the cook and kitchen helpers who had shared stories during a break in their work, Camilla turned her gaze toward the window.
Half a month had already passed since the wedding.
Though it should have been the newlywed period, her husband was constantly occupied. He left before dawn and returned late at night, so they rarely saw one another. Their wedding night had been indefinitely postponed, and Camilla continued to sleep alone in the mistress bedroom.
(Is he… avoiding me?)
Feeling pathetic, Camilla pressed a hand to her chest.
For Pamela’s sake, she needed to be a good wife to Luke. And yet everything she said seemed to unsettle him, while Luke himself limited their exchanges to the bare minimum.
The servants reassured her, saying, “Lord Luke is still young. He must be nervous in front of such a beautiful wife.” But the expression he sometimes wore, with his nose faintly wrinkled, hardly looked like simple nerves.
He had blushed, flustered, and sulked so expressively in front of Pamela. With herself, Camilla could not even coax a gentle smile from him.
(Come to think of it, Pamela said she would have Luke take time off work after they married.)
Had Luke married Pamela, he was meant to receive a countship and land. As a newly elevated high noble, he had planned to spend time at his estate, both to acclimate to high society and to enjoy a honeymoon with his bride.
But now, Luke went to the castle every day. Knights were supposed to have days off, yet so far he had not spent a single one resting at home.
And since the Lapladian knightly order required at least one off-duty day every ten days, it meant that Luke was deliberately staying away from the estate even on his days of rest.
Because he did not want to see her.
(I really am… hopeless.)
Letting out a dry little laugh, Camilla leaned her elbows on the windowsill and rested her weight there.
One day, Camilla was surprised to hear that Luke would be home by evening.
“Then we can have dinner together,” she said brightly.
“So it seems! We shall put our best effort into it,” the sturdy cooks replied with enthusiasm.
Normally, Camilla ate first, and Luke reheated his portion when he returned late at night. The idea of serving him a freshly prepared meal clearly pleased them.
Luke, who usually came home when Camilla was half asleep, would be returning early this evening. They would share dinner, and surely they would talk much more.
(That’s it. What we lacked was time.)
Camilla’s steps were light as she left the kitchen. Even the familiar corridors of the estate seemed to gleam more beautifully than usual.
(If we spend time together calmly, I’ll learn what he likes and what bothers him. And he’ll come to understand me as well.)
There was no point in shrinking back because she was not as beautiful as Pamela, not quick-witted, or because she is older than him.
She had resolved not to rely on Luke, but to step toward him herself.
(Yes. I’ll wear the necklace he gave me the other day.)
Luke was diligent by nature. As soon as he learned Camilla’s measurements from the maids, he ordered dresses from a tailor, and he also gifted her jewelry.
According to the maids, he had received a substantial reward before the late king’s death, and he spared no expense in using it for Camilla’s sake.
Though quiet, Luke had a good eye for clothing. Every dress, accessory, and pair of shoes suited Camilla’s taste perfectly. Her only regret was that their schedules rarely aligned, leaving her with only small chances to show him wearing them.
(Tonight isn’t just dinner, it’s a proper evening meal. I want to dress up.)
When she consulted a maid, she received an enthusiastic endorsement. “His lordship will absolutely be delighted.”
So Camilla bathed earlier than usual, arranged her hair carefully, and chose her favorite of the dresses Luke had given her: a deep wine-red autumn gown patterned with gold. Her hair ornament and necklace were gifts from him as well.
“You look wonderful. His lordship will be completely taken with you,” the maid said, clearly satisfied with her work.
Just then, a voice called up from below announcing Luke’s return. Smiling at the maid, who whispered, “Do your best,” Camilla headed downstairs.
(What should I do? My heart is pounding.)
The soft sound of the long sleeves and hem brushing together echoed in her ears, and her cheeks felt warm.
(What will Luke say? Will he… admire me?)
It was hard to imagine Luke openly admiring anyone, but he was a gentleman despite his reserved nature. Surely he would offer his praise. If she could soften the mood, they could share dinner together in a harmonious atmosphere.
The entrance came into view. She saw Luke handing his belongings to a servant.
Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.
“L-Luke…”
When she called out hesitantly, Luke turned at once. His hazel eyes widened as he slowly took her in from head to toe.
(How do I look? Is it strange?)
Under his stunned gaze, Camilla pressed a hand to her chest, which felt ready to burst with nerves and hope.
“…Are you going out somewhere this evening?” he asked.
“Pardon?”
At his slightly troubled expression, the warmth in her chest drained away.
Luke lowered his gaze and shifted aside from the door, as though making room for her.
“If you are dining out, please do return before it grows too late…”
“N-no, that’s not it. I’m not going out.”
Realizing his misunderstanding, Camilla hurried closer and continued.
“I changed because I heard you would be home. I haven’t had a chance to show you the dresses you gave me…”
“…But we’re about to have dinner,” he said.
“I dressed for dinner,” she replied.
Only then did Camilla realize the gap in their understanding.
As someone of royal blood, she had grown up changing attire before an evening meal as a matter of course. Even during her years at the convent, she changed into formal robes when dining with bishops or visiting clergy.
Luke, however, had been a commoner. To him, changing into fine clothes was something one did to go out. The idea of dressing formally at home, just to dine with one’s spouse, did not occur to him.
Luke seemed to realize it at last, and the color drained from his pale cheeks.
“…I see. I’m very sorry. I was ignorant,” he said.
“No, please don’t worry. Then… shall we go to the dining room? Everything should be ready.”
“Yes. Ah… no. Please go on ahead.”
He corrected himself mid-sentence, then walked quickly down the corridor.
