Chapter 56
Timothy was a surprisingly good dancer. Even though they had only had a single lesson, he didn’t stumble over his steps and his posture was excellent.
When Agnes matched the beat aloud while looking at Timothy’s shoes, she earned a scolding—
“Don’t kill the mood.”
“What, are you trying to turn this into a lesson right here?”
“It’s just a habit. Still, you did well.”
“Of course. I’m good at everything.”
Timothy lifted his chin proudly, full of confidence.
Agnes briefly thought to herself that it was a problem how even this side of him had started to seem cute to her. Over the young seven-year-old’s face, the image of the gloomy, dying Marquis Reynold overlapped.
Ever since she had grown attached to Timothy, Agnes often found herself thinking about the marquis he would one day become.
What had he been thinking on those nights he spent alone, drunk?
“Next time, I think it would be nice if you eased up a bit when leading. It’s good that you step out first, but if you’re too fast, your partner might have trouble keeping up.”
“…I know, okay? It’s only because you’re taller than me…”
“Well, our team will do well, I’m sure.”
Would it be strange that she preferred his casual speech to his awkward attempts at formality? Agnes took Timothy’s hand and led him back to their seats.
Because they had lingered chatting even after the waltz ended, they were the last ones to return.
“Next is Celine!”
“Hey, you fox, you—”
Timothy’s grip on Agnes’s hand tightened without him even realizing it, his voice flaring up.
“What!”
“You—you’re a girl!”
“That’s fine! Teacher can play the gentleman’s role too! After all, she’s the one who taught me to dance!”
“T-That’s… still…”
“What’s the problem? Teacher, give me your hand!”
“Isn’t it weird for two girls to dance together?”
“What’s so weird about it? By that logic, it’s fine for an adult to dance with a kid?”
“…I told you, I’m not a kid!”
“If you have eyes, you’d see—Teacher had to bend down and hold out her hand, practically being dragged aro—”
Unable to watch any longer, Melanie clapped a hand over her daughter’s mouth. Celine quickly pulled her mother’s hand away and continued.
“Anyway, hand, please. Oh, and after me, it’s Ben’s turn.”
“What, does the teacher not get a say in this…?”
Agnes finally found an opening to interject. She glanced down at Timothy, half-hoping he would side with her.
“See? It’s weird for girls to dance together, right? You don’t like it either, do you, Teacher?”
“Normally, the rule is for a man and woman to pair up…”
“Right?”
“But there’s no law saying there can’t be exceptions.”
Their expressions split in opposite directions—Celine beamed while Timothy looked crestfallen.
Celine lifted her chin and approached, deliberately glaring at Timothy before speaking in an elegant tone—
“Teacher, would you do me the honor of one dance?”
“It would be an honor, young lady.”
Agnes tried to take the hand Celine offered, but Timothy still had hold of hers.
Instead of hurrying him, Agnes simply looked down at the boy.
Timothy’s distaste was plain on his face. He hesitated for a moment, then, as if giving up, muttered irritably—
“If I keep insisting here, I’ll just end up looking weird, so I guess I’ve got no choice.”
“If you don’t hand her over, I’ll take her by force, you know?”
“Just don’t hurt her.”
“…Do I look like you? Unbelievable.”
Celine let out a dry laugh and snatched Agnes’s hand from Timothy.
It was obvious his pride had been wounded.
Perhaps her grip felt rough, because Timothy immediately shot her a warning—
“I said don’t hurt her, you fox!”
“Ugh, honestly. Let’s go, Teacher!”
Unlike Celine’s irritation, the adults—including Agnes—were all busy trying to hold back their laughter.
Melanie looked as if she might burst from it, and Tristan was much the same. Only Ethan kept his cold eyes fixed on the sight of Agnes’s hand in Celine’s grasp—a look that was eerily similar to Timothy’s. Tristan found even that funny.
A new song began.
Unlike the slow and graceful tune before, this one had a lively rhythm. It was a dance Timothy wouldn’t have been able to do with her—she hadn’t taught it to him, and their height difference would have made it difficult to match the beat without her bending awkwardly.
“Celine, you’ve gotten taller, haven’t you?”
“Really?”
“Yes. And your dress is lovely, too.”
“My mother made it for me, just for today.”
“If I’d known in advance, I would’ve bought you a ribbon to decorate your hair. What a shame.”
“Mmm…”
Celine let out a small, regretful hum.
But of course, she couldn’t admit the real reason she had come—to stop Teacher from getting married.
Even for frank Celine, it was hard to say aloud, I hope you never get married and stay my teacher forever!
Agnes smoothed the faint crease between the girl’s brows with her thumb.
“Celine, aren’t you a little upset with me?”
“Huh? Upset with you, Teacher?”
“Yes. I quit so suddenly, and even though I’m teaching group lessons now, I can’t watch over just you all like before.”
“Well, of course that’s, um…”
Celine shut her mouth just as she was about to blurt out that it was upsetting. She remembered Timothy’s hand, which hadn’t quite been able to hug Agnes’s back earlier.
“Maaybe just a little. A teeny, tiny bit.”
“I see.”
“But it’s not bad! Even the kid seems to like you—well, at least as much as Ben does. Not as much as I do, though!”
“Is that so? You’re very generous, Celine.”
Normally, Celine would eagerly accept praise, but this time, she couldn’t feel entirely pleased.
It wasn’t really generosity—it was more like she had pitied him and yielded, the way she did with Ben.
“I hope you forget any unpleasant things that happened today, Celine.”
“Unpleasant things? I didn’t have any.”
Celine put on an innocent face.
“See? Only good things happened. I got to dance with you, Teacher, and also…”
She cast a mischievous glance toward the group of onlookers, crinkling her nose.
“I danced with His Highness the Crown Prince, too. He’s still a prince, after all.”
“Still a prince?”
“He looks handsome, but… as a person, he’s just… meh. I like serious people. You do too, right, Teacher?”
This time, Agnes couldn’t hold back her laughter.
Luckily, no one else had heard Celine’s cheeky remark.
While Agnes twirled with Celine around the floor, Timothy stood with his arms crossed, glaring at their happy moment.
It annoyed him that she looked more comfortable than when dancing with him, and that she kept laughing at whatever they were talking about.
What could possibly be so funny without him?
So irritating.
As Celine teased, Timothy was still quite small.
The physician had said he was tall and strong for a seven-year-old, but he was still a child.
Even a two-year difference made seven and nine distinct—just as five-year-old Ben was different from seven-year-old Timothy.
I want to be an adult already.
Since the night he lost his parents, Timothy’s wish had always been the same—
He wanted to be an adult.
An adult who could live on his own.
He hated needing someone to take care of him, and he hated that he couldn’t help but crave affection and attention from his guardians.
No matter how much he puffed out his chest and declared that he was already impressive, already a marquis, already smart—
He knew better than anyone that, despite it all, he was just a child.
An adult…
Timothy glanced sideways.
Among the people clapping and smiling warmly at Celine and Agnes’s dance was a man wearing the exact same scowl as him.
From his twisted expression to his slouched, arms-crossed posture, they were identical.
The coincidence gave Timothy a strange sense of kinship.
Since meeting him at his parents’ funeral, he had never once felt such a thing toward this man.
He gauged the distance between himself and this relative who had always seemed so far away.
It was about two steps.
Farther than that, perhaps—but not an eternity.
It felt like if he reached out his hand, he could touch him.
If he called, he might turn around.
Only blood relative… No, not the only one.
The Battenberg family would have cadet branches, and even if they didn’t share the name, there were surely more distant relatives.
The Reynold family had even more—his father’s younger brother, for instance.
He could count on one hand the ones whose faces he actually remembered, though.
At first, he’d been full of resentment, wondering why Ethan had bothered to bring him in.
But now, he was glad. Because of it, he had met Agnes.
To Timothy, Ethan had once been the most perfect adult, someone he wanted to be like, someone whose approval he craved.
Now, things were a little different.
He still wanted approval, still wanted to resemble him in some ways—but he didn’t see him as the most perfect adult anymore.
Especially when Ethan was with Agnes, Timothy couldn’t help but look at him with mild disappointment.
“Uncle.”
There was no reply, but Ethan’s gaze, fixed in one place, dropped down to him.
Timothy found it hilarious that what he’d been glaring at so fiercely was the sight of Agnes Vaseline dancing affectionately.
To be honest, it was laughable.
“Stop glaring so much.”
“….”
“If you make it that obvious, Teacher will run away, you know?”
It’s hard for anyone to see an adult who’s seriously jealous of a mere nine-year-old girl holding someone’s hand as “perfect.”
“You can see it too?”
“If you’ve got eyes, of course…”
“She’s the only one who doesn’t notice, then.”
Timothy looked up at Ethan in surprise.
He hadn’t expected him to respond at all, let alone agree without denial.
Ethan gave a faint smirk at Timothy’s wide eyes.
And then—
“Timothy, team.”
