~Chapter 132~
Richard could hardly believe this.
It felt like things had gone back to before Ancia’s abduction. Her body against his was warm; her smile to him was gentle; whenever their eyes met, the air softened.
In his arms, Ancia seemed unchanged—as if he had never lost her. He stroked her hair and kissed her head, and she didn’t resist.
“Thank you for letting me see Mother today.”
Even though he hadn’t allowed her to see Nathan, Ancia didn’t complain. Instead, she thanked him despite his small-minded choice.
Guilt clenched Richard’s stomach again.
“I still didn’t let you meet the Young Count.”
“I understand. From your position, he’s… an uncomfortable person to face.”
“…Are you calling me ‘Duke’ again?”
“Hm? Oh… if I’m going to call you ‘husband’ when I address you…”
Still drowsy, Ancia’s thoughts didn’t turn quickly. Tilting her head, she looked up at him and tried the end of the word:
“Husby?”
A storm of feeling hit Richard as if someone had squeezed his heart.
Right now, even if Ancia asked him to bring Nathan—or Hilda—he’d probably obey without thinking. Where had this cute, lovable creature come from? He was simply grateful that Ancia was his wife.
Hilda’s influence must be part of it, too.
Richard decided to assign an escort unit to see Hilda and Nathan safely home.
That night, the ducal couple spent gentle time together, chatting lightly for the first time in a long while.
“Wow, it smells good.”
Even before dawn, the first-floor kitchen was already bustling.
Ever since the missing Duchess returned and shared new recipes, the small annex kitchen overflowed with unfamiliar ingredients—some so odd the servants rarely used them.
Most of the staff were hesitant, but Chef Harmon’s loyalty to the Duchess burned even in the face of strange, slippery, black sea-vegetables.
“This ‘seaweed soup’ really does smell nice.”
“I don’t like the ocean smell—but it tastes okay.”
As maids trimmed ingredients and the seaweed soup simmered for hours, a savory aroma filled the air. At first, the jet-black, slippery thing had seemed like a monster and no one wanted to touch it—but following Ancia’s instructions, they found the texture so-so, the flavor surprisingly good.
It was simple to make, too, and tasted better if cooked the day before.
Following Ancia’s advice, they also cooked rice in a heavy-lidded pot; the grains turned out deliciously sticky.
Seaweed soup and rice paired well, and the staff understood why Ancia had told them to prepare the two together.
There was still one dish they couldn’t get used to: cabbage or radish, not cooked but salted, then coated with a chili powder so spicy it made them cough. To them it felt like a punishment dish. Ancia called it kimchi.
“Didn’t my lady say to bury the kimchi jar in the ground?”
“I thought it was some kind of sorcery.”
“But when we dug it up, it smelled really tangy… I kind of want to taste it.”
“Hey, don’t eye the dishes meant for my lady.”
“But the master said at least two tasters should try it.”
Everyone looked at the kimchi glistening in the jar. It was bright red—spicy-looking, yes—but the sheen promised umami. The tangy scent piqued their curiosity.
“Well, you should know the taste if you’re going to cook it later. Try one piece each.”
“Yes, Chef.”
“Do we eat a leaf at a time?”
“If you do, you’ll burn your mouth. Just a little.”
They speared pieces of cut kimchi with their forks and tasted.
“Spicy! And it smells sour.”
“Really? I think it’s sour and a little sweet—tasty!”
“Sss— I thought it’d be mushy, but the crunch is nice.”
“The seaweed soup feels a bit heavy—this really refreshes… whoa, okay, it is spicy.”
For a while the kitchen echoed with, “Spicy, but good!”
As the kitchen grew busier, the maids began their morning routine.
In the main house they woke before sunrise to do many tasks, but since moving to the tower, they only needed to care for Ancia’s room, so they could rise after dawn.
Ellie filled the bath and entered to wake Ancia—then jumped back at the sight of a large man’s back on the bed.
His back was so broad it hid Ancia completely, and he didn’t stir at Ellie’s arrival.
She recognized him at once: the Duke. She had seen a similar scene when the couple sometimes stayed late in the main house’s bedroom while she slipped in to clean. The Duke’s clothes lay on the floor by the bed. He had turned his back to the door, shielding Ancia from view—familiar.
Only one thing was strange: he was still asleep. Usually, whenever a servant entered, the Duke would rise or gesture them away while tucking Ancia in.
He didn’t move at all, and for a moment Ellie wondered if he was… dead. She hesitated. Should she close the door and hide in the bath? Go out and knock for the guards? Either way would make noise.
If he was truly asleep, she shouldn’t wake him. As she wavered, a rustle came from the bed and she relaxed. As expected, even a maid’s quiet steps usually woke him. She bowed, when Ancia’s small voice came:
“Ellie, can you rest until I call?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Over the Duke’s shoulder, Ancia’s shy smile shone, pure and bright. It seemed the ducal couple, who had looked strained for some time, had reconciled overnight, and Ellie felt relieved.
Bianca, arriving late behind Ellie, saw the two on the bed and nearly lost her jaw—but at Ancia’s quick signal, she slipped back to the entrance.
A soft tap of the fingernail and the door opened immediately—clearly expected. Ellie and Bianca slipped out.
When the room was quiet again, Ancia studied Richard’s sleeping face. He usually woke first, so seeing him asleep like this felt strange.
He didn’t wake even when she touched his face. The man who reacted to the smallest sound was dead to the world.
Even so tired, he had stayed up till dawn chatting with her. He had yawned, eyes going loose with sleep, yet the blue in his gaze stayed clear when he looked at her. She had laid a hand over his eyes and whispered “Good night,” and he fell asleep at once. It felt like magic.
She struggled to pull off his formal jacket—he didn’t stir. To yank the cloth from beneath his arm, she had to tug until her face turned red.
When she nestled back into his arms, his sleeping body instinctively drew her close.
Is he pretending?
She lifted her head—no, he was truly asleep. His unconscious embrace made her happy. She knew they had things to address about his excesses, but for now she wanted to savor the feeling of his arms, long missed.
She must have dozed. Even after she woke at the maids’ soft movements, Richard still didn’t get up. She lost track of time studying his face.
How is he so handsome—no matter how long I look?
She couldn’t stop the silly grin spreading on her lips.
After a while, hunger set in. She wondered if she should wake him when a light knock came, the door opened, and a delicious smell drifted in.
Every morning, seaweed soup and white rice were sent up, and Ancia’s appetite stirred. Today, neat wedges of bright red kimchi on a white plate made her mouth water.
The table and chairs from the side of the room were moved to the center, and breakfast for two was set. In case the Duke disliked it, there were also a simple salad, bread, and some meat. Ancia smiled and bowed her thanks to Chef Harmon, who stood at the door.
“It’s sudden, but thank you for preparing the Duke’s meal as well.”
“I only did my duty. If there’s anything you’d like, say the word and I’ll make it at once.”
“Then… for a snack later, fish-shaped buns, please.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Despite the comings and goings and the mild commotion, Richard still slept, one arm around Ancia’s waist.
Everyone tried not to stare, knowing how rare this sight was—but they couldn’t help quick glances.
If she left him, he might sleep twenty-four or even forty-eight hours. Deciding to feed him and then let him rest, Ancia leaned close and called him.
She’d meant to say “Duke,” but thinking of his reaction last night, she let a playful smile curl her lips.
“Husband, breakfast.”
But he slept so deeply he didn’t move. The servants’ eyes, however, went round—and then they hurried to school their faces to calm.
The intimate title only the mistress could use sent a warm flush across their cheeks.
