Chapter : 18
“Unless you’re very busy, would you like to have tea with me, Sir Preston? It’s almost teatime. Unfortunately, Benjamin—who promised to have lemonade with me—has been dragged off to the bath by Mrs. Ritz. It looks like he’s even getting a full wash.”
Glancing at the clock, Windsor set down the pen he had been holding. He replied in a blunt tone,
“There are exactly seven minutes left until teatime. And this is currently work hours.”
“I know. It’ll take about that long for Betty to bring the tea, so please finish your work, Sir Preston. I’ll wait quietly here.”
With that, Jacqueline sat down on the sofa. Windsor couldn’t understand her. Rather than sitting idly for seven minutes, wouldn’t it be better to come right on time?
Then he realized something and nodded.
“It seems you wish to nag me. Enough to endure a tedious wait.”
“That’s not it at all. Have you forgotten? I’m your….”
Jacqueline paused briefly and lowered her voice. Even though they were alone, she was a person who valued discretion.
“Your secret tutor. A teacher hopes for her student’s success. And don’t forget—Benjamin’s birthday banquet is in a few days. You’ll be having tea and conversation with many nobles there.”
Windsor brushed his brow lightly and returned his gaze to the desk. He rose from his seat exactly seven minutes later.
Right on time, Betty brought in the tea. As she set the tea service on the table, Jacqueline smiled at her.
“Thank you, Betty. You may go now.”
“Yes, Miss Somerset.”
Watching Preston walk toward the sofa, Jacqueline lowered her gaze to the silver tray. It was the moment she became talkative.
“Today, I’ll teach you tea etiquette. Before the banquet begins, you’ll be chatting with gentlemen over tea, so this is an essential lesson for you, Sir Preston.”
Windsor sat upright and listened to her. Her voice, with its clear rises and falls, sounded almost like a humming melody.
She was different from him in every way—from head to toe. Especially her emotional nature, quick to laugh and cry.
At times, he couldn’t understand why Jacqueline suddenly became sharp or prickly. And he was certain he never would.
“Hold the teacup and bring it close to your nose. First, you enjoy the aroma.”
As Jacqueline demonstrated, Windsor followed exactly.
“It’s good to say a word or two about the fragrance.”
“……”
Windsor looked at her as if unsure what he was supposed to say. Jacqueline nodded encouragingly.
“It doesn’t matter what you say. Everyone else is the same anyway. Something like ‘The aroma is rich,’ or ‘It smells pleasant’ is enough.”
“Isn’t that rather careless instruction?”
Windsor cast her a doubtful glance. Jacqueline met his gaze confidently.
“I told you—it’s unnecessarily complicated and troublesome etiquette. Not every action has a reason behind it. Now, if you’ve enjoyed the aroma, you may take a sip.”
At her words, Windsor lifted the cup to his lips.
The movement was impeccably neat. Though he didn’t realize it, even without strictly following noble etiquette, no one would have criticized him much.
Besides, his flawless appearance distracted the eye from any minor imperfections.
“The tea tastes good.”
“Perfect!”
Jacqueline’s eyes sparkled as though she were looking at a student who understood ten things from one lesson. Windsor paused briefly, then set the cup down.
Yes—this was one of the ways she differed from him. Like a cat and a sparrow, or a whale and a frog, they were entirely different species.
Where they lived, how they acted, their habits, even their thoughts—everything about them was different. The two were completely different beings.
“When setting the cup down, it’s best to make a slight sound—but not too loud.”
Clink.
He was an excellent student, and Jacqueline sincerely delighted in his progress. Enjoying the warm afternoon sunlight, she turned her gaze toward Windsor.
Suddenly, their eyes met.
“……”
At that moment, Jacqueline’s back stiffened. She didn’t know why. Perhaps it was his gaze, as if it could pull her in—or the sharpness hidden beneath his apparent indifference.
At times, the man gave off a sharp aura that didn’t seem noble at all. Or perhaps it was better described as a precariousness, like standing on the edge of a blade.
Jacqueline wondered if it was due to his past.
Those born nobles were inherently languid and relaxed. They had always had everything.
They had never labored in sweat, nor stayed up worrying about money. That was why a natural weariness clung to their demeanor.
But Windsor was different. He was like a tightly drawn bow—ready to fire at any moment.
Occasionally, he appeared relaxed as well, but it wasn’t the same kind of ennui as other nobles. It was more like the ease of a well-fed predator—a brief calm that could turn into action at any moment.
Not wanting to reveal her tension, Jacqueline forced a smile. She was aware that the corners of her lips were stiff, but they wouldn’t relax easily.
Comfort and unease.
The man evoked both emotions at once. It was a strange feeling she couldn’t logically explain.
Avoiding his gaze, Jacqueline fiddled with her teacup. Then, as if something had just occurred to her, she looked back at him.
Windsor, who had been sipping his tea elegantly, slowly raised his head.
Who could say he wasn’t a noble? And at the same time, who could say that he was?
“Oh, right—you’ll have to dance at the banquet.”
“Dance, you say.”
Windsor’s brows drew together. It didn’t seem like a pleasant topic. Seeing that, Jacqueline nodded firmly.
It was better to talk than remain silent. Sometimes, his heavy silence felt suffocating.
“A proper gentleman must ask a beautiful lady for a dance.”
“Ah, that unnecessarily complicated and troublesome etiquette.”
Jacqueline pretended not to hear that and stood up. Placing her hands on her waist, she looked down at him with a resolute expression.
“Now, ask me to dance.”
“I don’t think it’s necessary for me to learn dancing. No young lady would want to dance with me anyway.”
Jacqueline said nothing. She had realized it was self-deprecation about his background. It left a bitter taste in her mouth—just like when she called herself a “poor lady.”
Murmuring as if to justify herself, she said,
“But you’re a marquis, Sir Preston. Surely there are ladies who would wish to catch your eye—”
“When Benjamin comes of age, I will hand over the title and step down. Knowing that, do you think any young lady would wish to dance with me?”
There were rumors that Windsor would swallow up the Preston family—that the greedy uncle would steal his young nephew’s place.
But Jacqueline knew those rumors were false. He truly had no attachment to the title. Windsor Preston might be a blunt uncle, but he was not a wicked one.
“I have a responsibility to make you a distinguished gentleman admired in society. A gentleman who cannot dance? I’ve never even heard of such a thing. So stop arguing about every little thing and ask me to dance.”
“Stop arguing about every little thing…?”
Windsor frowned, as if confirming he’d heard correctly. Jacqueline ignored it and boldly extended her hand.
Lowering her voice theatrically like a gentleman, she said,
“At times like this, you say, ‘May I have the honor of a dance with this beautiful lady?’ Now, take my hand.”
Instead of replying, Windsor stared at her outstretched hand. Jacqueline waved it impatiently, as if asking what he was waiting for.
Unfortunately, she did not have Benjamin’s patience.
“Hurry.”
“I have never danced in my life.”
Jacqueline’s eyes widened.
“Didn’t you say your mother was an opera singer? Didn’t you learn from her?”
“She wasn’t that affectionate. She preferred dancing with a new lover rather than teaching her son.”
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
Jacqueline apologized awkwardly.
But Windsor didn’t understand why she was apologizing. His mother’s affairs weren’t her fault.
“How long will you keep me waiting? Making a lady feel embarrassed is not something a gentleman should do.”
Only after her second urging did Windsor reluctantly extend his hand. He placed it on her palm.
Flinch.
Jacqueline’s shoulders trembled involuntarily. A tingling sensation ran through her fingertips, as if she had been shocked. For a moment, it felt like thunder was rumbling somewhere.
She glanced toward the window reflexively, but seeing the clear sky without a single cloud, she quietly drew in a breath.
A cool fragrance filled her senses. It suited Windsor perfectly.
Step.
He moved a step closer to her. The two stood facing each other, barely a hand’s breadth apart.
Suddenly, Jacqueline held her breath. An unexplainable pressure weighed on her shoulders.
Windsor was taller than she had thought. His shoulders were broader than she had imagined. She stared at him as if realizing it for the first time.
For some reason, she couldn’t remain calm. Worried that her hands might tremble—and that Windsor might notice—she bit her lip.
Slowly, his gaze shifted—from their joined hands to her cheek.
A heavier voice than usual slipped from between his lips.
“What should I do next?”
“Ah—yes.”
Snapping back to her senses, Jacqueline looked up at him. Taking his other hand, she flipped their palms—his lowering, hers resting above.
Like a lady accepting a dance invitation, she lowered her eyes coyly.
“Since you’ve asked, Sir Preston, I’ll grant you one dance.”
Windsor’s brow twitched, but she didn’t notice, her gaze still lowered.
“We can’t play music, so follow my movements to the rhythm. I’ll go slower than usual. Are you ready?”
Instead of answering, Windsor merely raised an eyebrow.
