Chapter 3
Even though she knew better, Anne’s feet had come to a stop—not because it was what her heart truly wanted.
This isn’t right, she thought. Standing at the hallway corner, Anne forced herself to turn back the way she came.
He’s a noble’s illegitimate child. He won’t starve, and if he’s sick, he’ll receive proper care. He’s not going to die alone in a cold room without a fireplace like Jamie did.
When she thought of the future Duke Grey Benton, Anne didn’t even want to spare a glance.
And yet…
“Young Master.”
Anne wanted to pull out her own hair.
The boy sitting on the floor of the corridor looked up at her with tearful eyes. Seeing his face, she couldn’t help but feel he was still innocent.
But you’re going to do it all over again, knowing full well the kind of hurt he’ll bring you? Really, Anne Perot?
“It’s late. You should go back to your room and get some sleep.”
“I’m scared… alone…”
The boy reached out and grabbed the hem of Anne’s skirt.
When she tried to pull it away with an indifferent expression, he quickly grasped her hand.
His hand was small and soft, the hand of a child. Seventeen and thirteen—such a big difference.
Anne was nearly grown, already close to being a woman, while he still had three or four years left before adulthood.
“Go to sleep.”
After laying the boy in bed, Anne checked the fireplace. Ignoring the gaze she could feel on the back of her head, she turned to leave.
“Can’t you stay until I fall asleep? Please.”
The boy’s earnest voice stopped her. She turned back reluctantly.
He’s just a child.
She set the candlestick down on the table beside the bed.
“…All right.”
“Mom used to tell me fairy tales before bed. The Duke said if my mom gets better while I’m here, he’ll bring her to see me.”
After that, Anne never heard anything more about his mother. Most lower-class women with poor health met similar ends.
She likely died while Grey was growing up—just like her own younger brother, Jamie.
Suppressing the sudden wave of sympathy, Anne opened her mouth slowly.
“Once upon a time—”
She began telling the fairy tales she had once wanted to tell her own child, the ones she’d whispered countless times to the baby in her womb.
There were many stories to last through the night.
After a long while, Anne saw that the boy had fallen asleep. She whispered the ending to the story, then gently blew out the candle and quietly left the room.
* * *
“—And they lived happily ever after.”
Sitting side by side on the sofa, Grey would sometimes read novels aloud to Anne with his arms wrapped around her.
Whenever a book he brought to teach her to read turned out to be interesting, Anne would ask him to read all the way to the end.
Even after she had learned to read, she still enjoyed the sound of Grey’s voice telling her stories.
He would smile softly, crinkling his nose, then pick up the book and pull her into his arms.
Like the romantic novels he read to her through the night, Grey whispered eternal vows of love into her ear, and Anne did the same.
They lived together, hidden away from the world, for over three difficult years.
They changed their names and ages to erase their identities, running from place to place until finally settling in a quiet countryside village.
Grey worked as a tutor. Anne helped in the kitchen at a restaurant.
A young, wandering couple wasn’t unusual, and since both had once lived as poor commoners, their acting felt natural.
One day, a student’s parents brought Grey a gift in gratitude for teaching their child. Anne felt incredibly proud.
With the money she saved from kitchen work, she bought him a nice fountain pen. In return, Grey made a bouquet with the children and came to meet her at the restaurant.
Even on days when they were exhausted and could only fall asleep holding hands, they were happy.
Until the day a messenger from the Benton Duchy showed up in their village and shattered that happiness.
“The Duchess of Benton requests your presence, Lord Grey Benton.”
What broke their happiness wasn’t poverty or hardship—it was the offer of wealth and a noble life.
Grey held Anne’s hand tightly as they returned to the Duchy, leaving behind the village’s surprised and envious stares.
“Even if we die for running away, we’ll be together, Anne.”
But unlike what they’d expected, what awaited him wasn’t punishment.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Grey Benton.”
The Duchess, standing at the entrance, greeted him as soon as he stepped out of the carriage with a hug.
“My son.”
The very woman who had once scorned him now recognized him as her son and officially declared him heir to the Dukedom.
Before long, Grey Benton became the new Duke.
“Anne. From today on, you are the Duchess of Benton.”
When Grey kissed her hand and looked at her with eyes full of love, Anne dared to dream of a future together.
Their hardships were over, and paradise had finally arrived—a life with the man she loved.
She imagined herself as the Duchess beside her husband, the Duke, painting a perfect picture of complete happiness.
But the illusion, the years she endured through hope and fantasy, didn’t last even a full year.
They say a position shapes the person—but that wasn’t true. One had to deserve the position first.
Anne was not someone who belonged at Grey’s side.
* * *
“Anne.”
She had only shown kindness to him once. After that, Anne tried her best to avoid the boy. But whenever he appeared, she couldn’t help answering when he called.
“Yes, Young Master.”
Illegitimate or not, he was still the Duke’s son—and she was just a maid.
“Here. Take this.”
Grey, smiling brightly, handed her a flower he had picked from the garden.
He had always been a kind and gentle boy—someone who naturally gave beautiful things to those he loved.
Anne couldn’t find the words to refuse and accepted the flower.
“Thank you.”
When she returned to the servant’s hall with the flower in hand, the maids glanced at her.
Cassie came over and tapped her on the arm.
“Anne, don’t you think the little Young Master likes you?”
“He’s just a kid.”
“He’s a kid now. Just wait a few years. If you let things slip now—”
“Enough. He’s just a child.”
But six years later, Anne would fall completely in love with Grey.
She had once dismissed his constant affection as a child’s longing for parental warmth. But after Jamie’s death shattered her, Grey took that chance and captured her heart.
As soon as he heard she was about to get married, he threw everything away and came running.
The once-small, soft hand that had handed her flowers had become firm and muscular after four years at the knight academy.
He had surpassed her in height by the time he was fifteen. At seventeen, Grey Benton towered over her.
By nineteen, the grown man standing before her could no longer be seen as a child.
“Anne.”
She was hanging laundry in the yard when a small hand waved in front of her face, breaking her daze.
She looked down at the top of a young boy’s head.
“Young Master?”
In the fluttering white linen, the other maids had long disappeared after finishing their tasks. Only she and Grey remained.
“Is something bothering you?”
The thirteen-year-old furrowed his brow, trying to read her mood.
He looked so much like her younger brother. Anne quickly hardened her softening expression.
“It’s nothing.”
The truth is, I wish the one standing here was my little brother—not you.
Grey didn’t deserve the sadness and loneliness in her eyes, so she turned away.
“Maybe I can help? I know I’m still young and not strong, but…”
Young Grey looked at her with wide, sincere eyes filled with goodwill.
Had this been the old Anne, she would’ve patted his head or smiled warmly at him.
But now, she wanted no part in his future.
She was about to step away when she remembered something he’d said once.
“It’d be nice if you became my personal maid.”
Back then, neither the Duchess nor Anne had realized what kind of storm Grey’s request would bring, so they had accepted it easily.
He wasn’t in a position to make such requests at the time, but Anne was diligent and skilled—well-liked by both the madam and the head maid.
And no one had been particularly eager to serve Grey Benton anyway.
But now, it was a role she no longer wanted.
She wouldn’t brush the sadness from his lowered brows. She wouldn’t run up behind his lonely figure to greet him with a smile.
She wouldn’t feel her heart flutter or her cheeks flush from his helpful hands carrying laundry.
So…
Jamie! The name struck her like lightning. Anne suddenly thought of the one person who could take her place—her brother.
