Chapter 7
“You’re late. I told you to come before dinner.”
Late at night, after the mansion lights had been turned off, Logan stood holding a lantern as he received the people who had come to see him.
“I apologize. She’s a child who’s only ever gone back and forth to the laundry room, so she’s never served someone of high status before. It took time to educate her—”
“I don’t recall speaking to you.”
Logan cut the head maid off mid-sentence and smiled faintly. Leaning against the doorframe with a gentlemanly smile, his tone was cold. Polite, but not kind, it was an unspoken warning to the head maid, who was offering flimsy excuses to a noble.
At the duke’s barbed words, the head maid lowered her head. This was exactly why serving the duke was so difficult. He was courteous to everyone, yet behind that shamelessly calm face, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. The maids who had served him before were often dismissed without ever knowing what had offended him.
“I apologize, Your Grace. I lack in many ways, so I asked the head maid to train me. That is why I couldn’t come at the time you specified.”
Under the pressure-filled gaze of the head maid, the woman stepped forward reluctantly. She had only learned moments earlier that she was to serve the duke, but she could not afford to upset him over something so small.
As Logan looked at her, carefully watching every word she spoke, his eyes slowly narrowed. Memories of the day they first met flashed through her mind, and her legs trembled.
What if he sent me back like this?
Miss Amelia’s warning echoed in her head. Never upset the duke.
“Leave.”
Logan spoke in a low, cold voice.
The woman shut her eyes tightly and began to step back, but his gaze was not directed at her.
“…Have a pleasant night.”
Realizing the duke’s clear intent, the head maid retreated without even crossing the bedroom threshold. The woman, who had hoped not to be left alone with him, froze in the awkward silence. Her clasped hands slipped with tension.
“Are you planning to stand outside all night?”
At the voice above her, she lifted her head. The duke had stepped aside and was waiting for her.
“O-oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Realizing she had dared to make a noble wait, the woman moved in a panic. As she entered the room, Logan stood in front of her.
His blue eyes blocked the room’s only exit as they slowly and persistently swept over her.
The woman he had searched for so long without finding even a trace had appeared in his space with just a single word. Her cheek was flushed red, as if she had been struck.
“What happened here?”
He grabbed her cheek firmly.
“It looked fine when I saw you earlier today. Does the head maid’s training include hitting now?”
“No. I was carrying laundry and didn’t look where I was going. I ran into a wall.”
What a poor excuse.
Logan let out a short laugh. Ran into a wall? Watching her tell such an obvious lie without blinking made his lips twist.
“Does the count’s estate have walls shaped like palms?”
At his mocking tone, the woman’s hand, which had unconsciously reached for her cheek, froze. She wondered if a handprint might still be there, then quickly realized it couldn’t be and lowered her hand.
“Of course not. The bedroom is dark. You must be mistaken.”
“No. I think I saw it clearly.”
“Perhaps Your Grace—”
“My eyes are wrong?”
At the sharp follow-up, the woman lifted her head. It seemed the duke was misunderstanding something about her.
At that moment, she met the deep blue eyes that had been watching her closely for some time.
A deep, mysterious color that felt like it could pull her in. A gaze that did not feel unfamiliar.
“If it wasn’t the head maid, then it must have been Amelia.”
“No. Whatever the truth is, if that is what Your Grace believes, then that is what it must be.”
Realizing she had been staring at him, the woman quickly came to her senses and lowered her gaze. Steadying her trembling voice, she clutched her chest tightly.
Thump. Thump.
Just meeting his eyes had sent her heart into chaos.
“I told you to come before dinner, but now it’s too late to give you any real work.”
He picked up the glass resting on the dresser and sat on the sofa. The whiskey he had been drinking while waiting was already half gone. His languid gaze returned to her. The shock he had felt when he first saw her was no longer there.
‘She won’t meet my eyes.’
The woman stood with her hands clasped and her gaze lowered. Logan studied her closely.
More unfamiliar than her blurred resemblance to the past was her attitude. The way she bowed her head, accepted everything, and obeyed anyone without resistance told him she was not the girl he remembered.
The girl he remembered had been clever, bright, and strong.
“What happened at the dinner gathering today? You look drained.”
“I lost an arm-wrestling match to Fred. He said I was just a pretty face who couldn’t use any strength.”
“That was unfair from the start. Fred is two years older than you.”
“But we’re in the same grade. We’re even entering boarding school together.”
“That’s because you finished two years of home education early since you’re smart. Losing to him in strength just means he had to fight dirty.”
Thinking of someone who would never return, Logan let out a short, hollow laugh. It was pathetic that he was still clinging to regret, searching for traces of the dead in a living woman.
Setting the glass down, he ran a dry hand over his tired face.
“So your name is… ah, you said you don’t have one.”
Logan caught the words he had spoken without thinking. It was a habit from business, always asking names first.
“Yes. ‘That one,’ ‘her,’ ‘over there.’ You can call me whatever is convenient. Everyone in the estate does.”
What he had thought was just an excuse to escape him was true. The maid really did not have a name. Not even among the servants did she have a nickname.
Perhaps because she had lived that way for so long, she seemed calm about it. Logan could not understand that.
“That’s not a name.”
His brow furrowed slightly.
“Doesn’t it bother you?”
“I’m rarely called by name, so it’s fine.”
She answered calmly, but his frown did not ease. From the day she entered the estate, she had lived without a name. Through all the years from girlhood to womanhood, she had never once been called by one.
It was one thing for masters not to care much about servants they only paid wages to. But for even the people she worked with to never give her a name felt bitter to him.
“May I give you one?”
Normally, this would not have been his concern. He did not know why he was meddling.
“Even if it’s only for a few days, I’ll be calling for you while I’m staying here. I can’t keep saying ‘that one’ or ‘over there’ forever.”
At his suggestion, the woman looked at him with slightly widened eyes. Rolling her gaze upward as she hesitated, she slowly nodded.
At that, Logan quietly inhaled. Whether it was the alcohol or something else, a strange heat rose inside him.
A name. A name…
“Isabella. My name is Isabella. I don’t have a family name, since I’m a commoner.”
A brown-haired girl with bright eyes who had always followed him around came to mind. A girl who rolled her eyes upward whenever she thought hard. As those small habits overlapped, memories he had long buried slowly surfaced.
“…Bella.”
His low, calm voice seeped into the quiet room.
