Chapter 49
In the loose, relaxed night air, Anne let her guard down and spoke honestly.
“It’s just… I find Young Master Sandor suspicious.”
“I think so too,” Hannibal immediately agreed with a nod.
“You’re not even going to ask for a reason or evidence?”
Pleased by his trust, Anne gave a faint smile. Hannibal nodded again, slowly this time.
“You must have a good reason if you suspect him.”
He trusted the Anne Perot he had come to know. Anne asked lightly,
“Do you believe the word of a city woman?”
“I believe the word of my head maid.”
Hannibal answered firmly, his lips curved in a subtle smile.
“And besides, I don’t like Dello Sandor either.”
“Me too!” Anne immediately replied in agreement.
“The Sandor family has frequent dealings with the Hekia Trading Company. I suspect he approached Victoria in hopes of connecting her to a new merchant company they’re close to.”
Hekia had once helped Nicholas Will during the Mei embezzlement incident and was a large trading company that had established a base in the capital after being driven out of Tegenes.
Now, under the surface, various powers were vying for that spot. It wouldn’t be strange if Sandor tried a different tactic.
“If that’s the case, he should treat her sincerely.”
After all, weren’t noble romances and marriages built on rank and power?
If so, Victoria deserved far better treatment.
While her so-called friends were mooching off her at meals, she needed not just her boyfriend’s silent consent but his active help and advice. Instead of cheap gifts like flowers and wreaths, she should be receiving things befitting the fiancée of the most prominent viscount in the southwest.
“He’s not sincere toward Victoria, is he?” Hannibal clenched his fists and looked back at Anne. Lately, he had begun to resemble Victoria a bit—at least when it came to getting worked up over the affairs of his own people.
So Victoria really was Hannibal’s sister.
“…The young lady is quite fond of him,” Anne admitted.
“If it’s one-sided, she should end it. Why would she waste her time on a man like that?”
“If we interfere, she might rebel. When young lovers grow more passionate and sentimental, they’re prone to making rash decisions.”
Just as Anne herself had once eloped with Gray in the middle of the night.
Anne sighed, recalling her past. Hannibal, in turn, remembered his own mistake—storming into the Witch’s Forest with a woman from the capital.
“So you’re saying we just watch for now?”
“We need proof of Sandor’s true nature—enough for the young lady to leave him of her own accord. Until then, I’ll support her and stay by her side. My lord, please trust her and wait as well.”
Hannibal openly furrowed his brow at her. It was the expression he wore when facing the polite, self-serving words of capital women.
Anne could now read his expressions well enough to know what was going on in his head.
“And what if she makes the wrong choice? What if she suddenly decides to marry him? You know how quickly men and women can grow close.”
In the dark rear garden of the annex, only one magic orb cast a gentle glow. Hannibal stood with the orb at his back, turning his body fully toward Anne.
His sharp gaze seemed tinged with self-reproach.
“My lord,” Anne called to him in a serious tone.
The magic orb’s light softly illuminated her face—her neatly tied hair, her delicate, oval features.
Smooth, round cheeks, striking eyes, a high nose bridge, and small, rosy lips.
Hannibal’s gaze lingered over her features before settling entirely on her eyes, which were fixed solely on him.
“In that case, my lord, you must stop the marriage no matter what.”
After all, he was family to Victoria Clayde. It was his duty and responsibility.
Though phrased as a polite request, her words had the force of a command, almost like a spell. Hannibal found himself nodding before he knew it.
“It won’t take long. The young lady just needs time to truly see him. She will surely discover Young Master Sandor’s true nature.”
Beneath her gentle, mild exterior, Anne Perot possessed an unshakable, steadfast will—full of trust and affection for Victoria.
Facing Anne’s resolute eyes, Hannibal suddenly felt envious of Victoria.
If he had even one person in his childhood to defend and speak for him in that unwavering way…
He might never have taken that woman’s hand in his loneliness.
No—he would have examined that hand, those eyes, the emotions and intentions carved within them.
If only the you of now had been by my side back then.
“You’re right. A carriage carrying the mother and daughter to Tegenes is on its way, so the truth will be revealed soon enough.”
“Yes!”
The face that had, moments ago, shown the loyal dignity of a commander brightened like that of a young girl.
It was a fresh, charming smile. Hannibal, listening to Anne’s cheerful voice that seemed ready to bounce with joy, reached out toward a strand of her hair fluttering in the breeze.
“My lord?”
Anne tilted her head, surprised to find Hannibal suddenly close to the bench beside her. He shook the hand that had caught the strand.
“Your hair was out of place.”
“Oh, it often gets messy in the evening. My apologies.”
Anne casually took a hairpin from her apron and fixed the stray hair.
Like her neat appearance, she seemed to leave no gaps when it came to her work.
A twenty-year-old maid had replaced Mei and risen to head maid—yet the other maids had not complained.
In fact, she had promoted Penny, the oldest and most experienced maid, to deputy head maid, which had improved the atmosphere.
And yet, such a composed and diligent person had been driven all the way to the west over a mere scandal.
“What happened with Gray Benton?” Hannibal asked.
The cheerful mood instantly cooled, as if cold water had been poured over it.
“Is there a reason you’re asking?”
Anne had guessed Hannibal might know about it—after all, rumors about Gray had spread widely in the ducal household before she left.
Given his wary nature toward city people, it was only natural to assume he had investigated her past.
But she hadn’t expected him to ask so directly.
“I’m curious, personally.”
“So it’s unrelated to work, then.”
Not just the women of high society but even the maids’ conduct reflected on their master’s family, so propriety was important.
Regardless of guilt, simply being involved in a scandal could be grounds for dismissal. Realizing this wasn’t that kind of inquiry, Anne let out a small sigh of relief.
“I heard Gray pursued you. You didn’t like that, so when the duchess happened to offer a recommendation, you came all the way west. Am I right?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Her passive reply made it obvious she didn’t want to say more, but Hannibal pressed on.
“You didn’t care for the duke’s illegitimate son? They say Gray Benton is very popular at the knight academy now—handsome, talented, and the duke’s young master.”
“Good for him. It has nothing to do with me.”
The warmth in Anne Perot vanished; she was now a completely different person.
There wasn’t a trace of lingering affection for Gray.
Seeing her cold expression, Hannibal let slip his own emotions.
“Why? Was a fourteen-year-old boy beneath your notice? Or did you think a childish love wasn’t real?”
Perhaps the question wasn’t even meant for her.
“…What?”
“They say the young master was swayed by your small kindnesses. That you handled his meals, laundry, and cleaning, and that your younger brother served as his attendant—at your recommendation, no less.”
If she truly hated him from the start, would she have brought her brother from afar to serve him?
Hannibal wanted to erase all doubts about her, so he would never have to suspect her again.
He had begun to trust Anne, and wanted to keep trusting her.
“Couldn’t leaving that connection be seen as lingering attachment? You wouldn’t want romance with a fourteen-year-old, so perhaps you left it as a foothold for the future. Anne Perot, be honest and I’ll write you a recommendation to serve as head maid in a noble household in the capital.”
Hannibal spoke quickly and forcefully, just as he’d been taught—often enough to draw the truth from someone.
“No!”
She had left that place for good—how could she go back? To that hell?
Even the thought of meeting Gray Benton again in Edith Tara was repulsive.
Anne stood, trembling with anger.
“If… if you think I’m unfit to be head maid, appoint someone else. I can remain as an ordinary maid. If you dislike having a capital-born person in Tegenes, then so be it. If I must be dismissed, I’ll leave. But I—”
Clutching her hands tightly, she bit her lips hard. She held back her indignation through several deep breaths before glaring at Hannibal and spitting out her words.
“I never want to be involved with Gray Benton again. Never.”
