Chapter 43
The Basteron townhouse, which had always felt cold and desolate, had already gone through one small upheaval when Agnès arrived—smiling warmly even at the maids.
But this time, a tiny child with hands as small as leaves entered the house, and the servants were completely undone by how adorable he was. They didn’t know what to do with themselves, shuffling about in excitement.
To be honest, the Duke of Basteron had never harmed any of them. Still, so many frightening rumors surrounded him that working by his side required courage.
In that situation, a small boy appearing while holding his mother’s hand was enough, by his mere existence, to melt people’s hearts.
When they reached the hall, Dylan handed his gloves to the butler and asked Agnès,
“I’ve prepared a separate room for Noah. What would you prefer?”
“If it’s all right, could we share the same room until we leave for the north?”
“Of course. That will be better for Noah as well.”
While Dylan and Agnès were talking, Noah never took his eyes off Dylan. He seemed to be staring at him longer than at his own mother, whom he had reunited with after so long.
As usual, Dylan moved to kiss the back of Agnès’s hand—but under the boy’s intense gaze, he gave up and turned his head instead.
“Do you have something to say to me?”
Even the servants, who normally went about their duties in silence, were fully focused on this exchange.
However, Noah—the center of their attention—said nothing and slipped behind the hem of Agnès’s skirt.
Dylan let out a small, amused breath, lightly kissed the back of Agnès’s hand, and stepped back.
There was no obligation for Dylan to become close to Noah. They were not officially married, and even while staying in this house, Noah would continue to carry the Overhan name.
If Dylan had any duty at all, it was this: since he had decided to protect Agnès and Noah, he needed to cleanse the stain on the Overhan family name before Noah officially inherited it.
If possible, he even considered assigning a physician to help Noah recover his speech.
That was all.
Just as Dylan firmly turned to go upstairs, Agnès stopped him.
She caught his sleeve, then quickly released it when he turned around.
“Um… you know it’s tomorrow, right?”
Dylan immediately understood.
Tomorrow would mark five days since he last drank Agnès’s blood. Proof of that was how sensitive his nerves had become. That was likely why he had been so conscious of a child’s gaze.
And now he had even realized that he had been holding Agnès tightly every time he fed.
A truth he had been barely ignoring came rushing back.
Dylan nodded, doing his best not to show his agitation.
“Yes. I remember. Then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He inclined his head and went up the stairs.
Promising himself that tomorrow, no matter what, he would not behave rudely toward her.
That night, Agnès personally bathed Noah and went to bed with him.
Noah looked a little uneasy, perhaps because it felt strange not returning to the Overhan townhouse even after night had fallen.
“Mom.”
The child whispered the word; he had barely recovered, clinging tightly to Agnès.
His long-absent clinginess was nothing but adorable.
Agnès held Noah close and gently stroked his soft, curly hair.
“Noah, do you remember what Mom promised you?”
In the letter she had sent Noah, she had written:
“Let’s live together in a new home where you don’t have to be afraid of anything and where we can always smile.”
Noah nodded, as if he remembered.
“Mom thought… Living with your father wasn’t that kind of home. I felt like I didn’t have the strength to protect you there. And like, I kept showing you only my weak side.”
Agnès tried carefully to help him understand.
Noah’s emerald-colored eyes stared straight at her. Eyes that seemed ready to absorb every word she spoke and carve it into his heart—sometimes those eyes frightened her.
Not because she feared the child, but because she feared the influence she might have on him.
No matter how hard she tried, she didn’t think she could ever be a perfect parent.
Pulling Noah closer, Agnès kissed his round forehead.
“So Mom found a new home where we can be together. That home is with the Duke of Basteron.”
“Gaah.”
Noah opened his mouth and dragged out a sound. He seemed to be trying to say ‘Your Grace.’ Agnès didn’t rush him and simply nodded.
“Yes. Your Grace.”
“Gaa—.”
Agnès smiled softly.
Before his muteness, Noah had been able to speak properly. So it wasn’t that he didn’t understand her now.
“That’s enough for now. I’m sure His Grace will understand too.”
It was a relief that although Noah was wary of Dylan, he didn’t seem afraid. If anything, he appeared curious, waiting intently for Agnès to continue.
“Mom. Gaa.”
“Do you want me to tell you more about His Grace?”
Adjusting her position, Agnès continued the explanation she had started earlier.
“The Duke of Basteron is… a wonderful, impressive man. The most admirable gentleman Mom knows. But that’s not the reason I’m with him. His Grace needed a little help, and Mom needed his help too. So we decided to stay together.”
She paused, watching Noah’s reaction, then spoke slowly.
“So… His Grace and Mom are going to get married. We’ll become husband and wife.”
Agnès worried Noah might be shocked.
Even if he was afraid of Rickman, wouldn’t it hurt to hear that his mother was marrying another man?
But Noah’s emerald eyes were still filled only with curiosity.
Unsure whether he truly understood or was simply okay with it, Agnès felt momentarily confused.
If only someone could tell me the right answer.
She laughed softly at herself and rubbed the corner of her eye.
“You don’t have to do anything just because Mom and His Grace are getting married. You just need to be polite to him.”
Noah immediately nodded.
Strangely enough, he didn’t seem afraid of Dylan at all.
Even the servants who had served Dylan for years feared him, and Agnès herself had trembled when she first met him.
But children were said to instantly recognize people who treated them well.
Maybe that was why.
Agnès rubbed Noah’s cheek. His once bread-soft cheeks had thinned a little from all the hardship. Starting tomorrow, she would make sure he ate well and turned plump again—like freshly baked bread.
Holding the warm, sweet-smelling child tightly, Agnès fell asleep.
She needed this child.
Desperately.
While Agnès spent a peaceful night—
The Everchen viscount’s household was in complete chaos.
“You said you had a way to prepare the dowry!”
“Was I wrong? The Derive Merchant Guild said they’d lend us that amount. The interest is practically nothing! How often does an opportunity like this come around?”
‘Practically nothing’ still means there is interest! And on top of that—on top of that! They want the territory as collateral!”
The Viscount Everchen clutched the back of his neck, staggering as if the thought alone made him dizzy. But the viscountess, waving her hands in disbelief, argued loudly.
“Dear, do you even know how much money our territory brings in each year? Only three thousand gold! And we don’t even get to keep all of it. Maintenance alone costs a fortune. If we use it as Agnès’s dowry instead, forget three thousand—we’d get at least four thousand gold!”
“Money isn’t everything! That territory was granted to us by the imperial family! For nobles, honor matters more than money! With such shallow thinking, how do you expect to manage a viscount’s household?”
Clicking his tongue, the viscount looked down on his wife.
The viscountess’s temper flared—but his stubbornness was nothing new.
Then this approach will work better.
Instantly softening her voice, she placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered coaxingly, as if she hadn’t been shouting just moments ago.
“Dear… It’s only collateral. That doesn’t mean they’ll automatically take it away, right?”
