chapter 27
Martin quietly nodded at my question.
Since the royal audience, a week had passed — including the family portrait event — so he must have thought about things in his own way.
“What’s your answer to my question?”
About what he thought of Prince Oscar.
Depending on his answer, I’d know whether I could take Martin to the royal palace without trouble.
Martin stroked his chin, as if choosing his words.
He might try to dodge, so I decided to strike first.
“You asked why we were invited, right?”
“….”
A light flashed in his red eyes.
“I asked His Highness to let Prince Oscar receive heir training.”
“!”
“Apparently, he liked my answer.”
Martin seemed slightly startled but tried not to show it, fiddling with his wrist instead.
“But he also asked if you thought the same.”
“…And what did you say?”
His hand moved from his wrist to his neck.
“I said I agreed.”
“Why did you say that?”
“Didn’t I tell you before I left? That I was going for the sake of the family?”
Meaning, it was an answer for the family’s benefit.
Whatever resentment Martin had toward the royal family, the only way to avoid total ruin was to gain King Leonard’s favor.
And King Leonard’s weak spot was his precious Prince Oscar.
Of course, Martin didn’t know about the “ruin” part, so I covered it up with another reason.
“It could help us gain a better position for business.”
Martin stared at me intently, a faint dry laugh slipping out.
“Don’t look at me like that. I just happened to get lucky.”
“So, what should I do?”
“You need to accept the invitation. Will that be okay?”
Martin took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and after a few more steady breaths, he answered with a calmer face.
“Alright. I was planning to go next time anyway.”
He’d reluctantly let me attend the royal audience before, but for some reason, he hadn’t wanted me to go.
“Did you really trust me that little?”
“That’s why you shouldn’t think of going next time.”
I pouted.
Who got him called to the palace in the first place?
“Oh, right.”
Martin’s gaze stayed on me.
“I heard you didn’t know about the personal portrait.”
“!”
“Care to explain that?”
Was that a tough question?
His leg started bouncing under the table, making me even more suspicious.
‘You’re going to confess whatever you’re hiding.’
He looked even more uneasy now than when I’d asked about Prince Oscar.
The suspicious puzzle pieces were about to fall into place—
“Before that.”
“…?”
“Look at this first. It’ll only take a moment.”
He was good at changing the subject.
But since he said it’d be quick, I nodded.
At his signal, a servant came over carrying something covered with a white cloth.
It was big enough that I could guess the shape, but not exactly what it was.
Seeing my puzzled look, Martin smiled faintly.
“What do you think it is?”
“A big… square?”
I gave the most honest answer, and he let out a quiet laugh.
Then, pretending he hadn’t laughed, he shut his mouth and hid his expression.
“I hope it’s a gift.”
“A gift… well, you could call it that.”
With that vague reply, Martin took hold of the white cloth and looked at me.
He motioned for me to grab it too — clearly wanting a dramatic reveal.
“I have to help?”
He nodded like it was obvious.
When my hand touched the cloth, he started counting slowly.
His face was unusually bright with anticipation, reminding me of Erica’s flushed cheeks when she was excited.
‘He’s like a kid at times like this.’
One, two, three—
And under the cloth was—
“!”
—A portrait of the three of us.
Martin’s eyes searched my face for a reaction.
“What do you think?”
I couldn’t answer right away — in fact, I couldn’t speak at all.
It was a picture of us in the sunny garden, all smiling brightly.
‘Were we really that happy that day?’
Baron Gilbert had never told any of us to smile — only to stand close together.
And yet, despite the muscle aches I’d had for days afterward, all three of us were beaming.
Overcome with emotion, I covered my mouth with both hands.
The warm spring feeling in the picture made their black hair shine, and their red eyes burned brightly under the sun.
Erica was dazzlingly beautiful, but Martin’s smile looked genuinely happy.
“It’s so beautiful…”
Without thinking, my hand almost reached for Martin’s painted face.
Noticing, he cleared his throat but couldn’t hide the flush in his cheeks.
“Who exactly are you calling beautiful?”
“Who do you think?”
When I teased him, he scratched his head.
“It’s thanks to you, wife.”
“What is?”
“Not only did I get the mining rights, but also this wonderful portrait.”
Was that… a compliment?
Flustered, I brushed it off.
“How is that thanks to me? That’s all thanks to Baron Gilbert.”
…And I’d apparently hit some kind of nerve.
“…Are you serious?”
Crack. I swear I just heard a joint pop somewhere.
Looking under the table, I saw a dark aura coming off his hands.
He was trying hard to keep his face calm, but—
“Well, the baron’s skills are really exceptional—”
“….”
Crack. The atmosphere was getting worse.
His eyebrows twitched violently.
“Uh, wow. The pattern on this teacup is beautiful. Is this new?”
I quickly tried to change the subject.
“It’s been here for a while.”
Still holding the teacup, Martin took a sip of herbal tea — probably to calm himself.
Ugh. My mouth was going to get me in trouble.
While I was silently scolding myself—
Pfft— hot tea sprayed everywhere.
“Are you okay?”
Martin had choked while drinking and spilled it all over his hand.
I quickly grabbed the water jug from the table and poured cool water over it.
His brow furrowed and the corner of his mouth trembled — I couldn’t tell if he was holding back pain or laughter.
“Master!”
“Bring a cold towel.”
Maid Mary ran off to fetch one, while I stayed calm.
“It’ll be fine if you keep it like this for a bit.”
Martin didn’t argue and just sat there quietly, like a child.
Normally he’d insist on doing it himself.
But this time, he just looked at my hand pouring the water, then turned his head away.
Slowly, the redness in his hand faded.
“Better now?”
“…Yes.”
“But you were laughing just now, right?”
He hung his head. His silence felt like agreement.
“Really? Tell me the truth.”
When I poked at him, he smiled faintly — the same smile I still didn’t quite understand.
The next day, after seeing the portrait hanging in the hall, I finally understood what that smile meant.
‘So you tricked me. Did you think I’d give up?’
Gripping my pen tightly, I paused mid-letter.
I was curious about my own portrait after all the trouble I’d gone through.
But first, I had to finish my letter to the royal family — to say I’d accompany Martin.
Mary came in, hesitating.
“Yes, Mary?”
She looked flustered, cheeks red and eyes lowered.
“I think I can give you a little help.”
Help? It was vague, and I didn’t know what she meant.
I had been thinking of assigning someone to investigate the Harold family, but I’d never mentioned it to her.
I almost ignored it — until she finally said—
“Your portrait. I know where it is.”
Her eyes were full of determination, though she blinked and tried to act coy.
I set my pen down.
“How do you know?”
“I saw it while cleaning in the master’s study. He keeps it close, even during work… it shows how much he thinks of you.”
Unless the painting was horribly done, there was no reason to hide it from the main hall… so that probably wasn’t the reason.
Mid-sentence, Mary seemed to realize something and clapped her hand over her mouth.
“This isn’t a secret… is it?”
“Considering how well he hid it, it might be.”
I gave her a knowing look, and she quickly wilted.
“Please don’t tell the master I said anything…”
“Don’t worry, Mary. You’ve been helpful.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I gave her the letter to deliver to the palace, and she left looking relieved.
As she disappeared from sight, I stretched.
“So the portrait’s in Martin’s study, huh?”
I couldn’t stop the grin spreading on my face.
