told you this would be the last time I helped you.”
Before the gates of the Brown viscounty.
Viscountess Brown spoke to someone with an embarrassed look.
“Sis, I’m sorry. Help me just one more time. Just once. Please?”
That someone was Lindsey.
Lindsey clung to the viscountess’s sleeve and begged.
Even Viscount Brown had refused to let Lindsey into the house.
“It’s just… it’s hard for me to even bring it up with him…”
The viscountess lowered her gaze.
That alone was enough to hint at her life in the viscount’s household.
Thud.
Suddenly, Lindsey dropped to her knees.
“My goodness, Lindsey! What are you doing? Get up, quickly!”
Fearing someone might see, the viscountess tried to hoist Lindsey up with her slender arms.
“I have nowhere else to go. I’ll do anything you ask. Just don’t throw me out of the capital. I’m begging you like this!”
Lindsey pressed her hands together and pleaded earnestly.
Inside the Floralite atelier, Lindsey had always acted like a princess,
invoking Viscount Brown’s name to boast, “I’m the viscount’s in-law. The viscount is so fond of me.”
She often bragged of expensive gifts “sent by Viscount Brown.”
But it was all a lie.
In truth, it had been a performance paid for with Lindsey’s own salary.
She strutted in the atelier to prop up her self-esteem, at least there.
Viscount Brown had no interest in his wife’s troublesome country-born cousin—
if anything, he was ashamed that the viscountess came from humble rural stock.
“All right. I’ll… I’ll speak to him. But this truly is the last time.”
“Thank you, sis!”
True to her word, the viscountess did her best.
Thus Lindsey managed to become a maid in the viscount’s household.
She ought to have been grateful simply to remain in the capital.
I was a designer at the Floralite atelier!
Instead, Lindsey was dissatisfied and resented her cousin for securing her “only” a maid’s post.
“So you’re Lindsey Loveless, the newcomer who replaced Donna? I hear you worked at an atelier. Then start with laundry and ironing.”
Because Lindsey came in, the maid who had been there was dismissed.
The servants’ solidarity over a lost comrade was formidable; they closed ranks and hazed Lindsey in every way they could.
Of course, Lindsey wasn’t about to take it lying down.
“How am I supposed to wash without laundry soap!”
“Figure it out.”
It was exactly the way she had once tormented rookies at the atelier.
Rather than reflect on her past, Lindsey ground her teeth.
Clara Boarne! Just you wait. This won’t end like this. I’ll survive here and pay you back in full.
Before dawn.
Enjoying the cool air, Clara was out walking the dogs.
Suddenly, one leash went taut.
Gold, the Labrador retriever, whined and pulled toward something.
“What is it, Gold?”
Following the direction Gold wanted to go, Clara saw a newspaper lying on the ground.
She walked over and picked it up; Gold looked up at her expectantly, then drooped his tail at her “No.”
On the front page, a headline leapt out.
“Duke Rupert of Irnosier makes large charitable donation for distribution to poor children in the slums.”
Hmm…
Clara opened the paper and read more closely.
It said that the Duke of Irnosier had already, several times, set a noble example with donations and volunteer work.
A fine nobleman indeed.
Thanks to Rupert, her impression of the nobility was changing.
After the walk, Clara returned home and opened a drawer to put away the leashes.
Inside lay the collar of Amy, the Yorkshire terrier who had recently left after finding a good adopter.
Amy…
On her recent visit, Amy had looked perfectly happy, showered with love and material support by her new family.
Clara was glad to see Amy content—
and yet, a little pained that she herself hadn’t been able to do more.
If she’d only had a bit more means, perhaps Amy wouldn’t have had to leave.
But Cookie had told her Amy was very pleased with her life now.
Yes—then that was enough.
“Clarang, when do we meet our Erna ‘gain?”
Cookie asked, eyes shining.
“Well? That depends on the duke’s wishes, I suppose.”
“I wanna play with Erna soon. Erna said she’d give me a present next time too.”
Just thinking of Erna made Cookie’s ears perk up.
“The duke is a busy man. Like this time, it won’t be common for him to come himself. For a while, a servant will probably come to collect the dresses.”
“Whine… I wanna see Erna…”
But Clara’s prediction was wrong—their second meeting came quickly.
A few days later, while Clara was working on Erna’s second dress—
Late at night in the workroom.
So absorbed in her sewing, Clara had forgotten all about dinner.
“Clara, His Grace the Duke of Irnosier is here to see you.”
A colleague spoke in a flustered tone.
Heading down to the VIP room, Clara wondered,
What is this about?
On the table lay a dazzling spread.
A roasted peacock with its magnificent tail plumed for display; herb-scented stew; exotic fruits; lemon sherbet carved like a swan of ice, and more—
A world of foods Clara had never seen in her life.
There was even meat and premium biscuits prepared for Cookie.
With a joyous “Woof!” Cookie ran straight to Erna, leapt into her arms, and accepted tidbits from her hand.
“I heard you skipped dinner,” Rupert said gently, his sea-blue eyes on Clara.
He carved the roast himself and set a portion on Clara’s plate.
What on earth is this?
Clara, overwhelmed, was nearly frantic with discomfort.
“Your Grace…?”
Clara glanced up, taking her cue from Rupert’s expression.
“Work does not go well if you miss meals,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting.
Ah—my heart…
His smile made sensible conversation terribly difficult.
Clara barely collected herself and managed to speak.
“You really don’t need to go to such trouble. I’m already plenty grateful that you chose me as the young lady’s exclusive designer.”
“Miss Boarne, the food is getting cold. It would be a shame to waste it—please share it with us.”
“It’s just that…”
“Don’t feel burdened. You are Erna’s exclusive designer, after all.”
“Ah—yes.”
With the duke insisting so, there was nothing more to say.
Clara moved her fork and knife, picking at the roast.
Her stomach was so tight she could hardly tell whether the food was going up her nose or down to her navel.
Cookie, for his part, happily lapped up the many treats from Erna’s arms—
blissfully heedless.
“What kind of food do you like best, Miss Boarne?”
In the midst of the meal, Rupert tossed the question out of nowhere.
“Me? I eat anything.”
Clara had been someone who couldn’t eat for lack of food, because of poverty.
Even after that, the duke continued with questions fit for a blind date.
If Aileen had been there, she would have squealed, “Isn’t this basically a confession?”
Clara, too, began to suspect the duke might harbor designs on her.
“Since when has Cookie been with you?”
“Isn’t caring for strays difficult?”
While Clara answered, Cookie played with the silk ball Erna had given him, then set it on Erna’s knees.
He planted his forelegs on the floor, raised his hindquarters, and wagged fiercely—begging her to throw it.
Erna tossed the ball; Cookie fetched it back. Again and again.
“It would be a lie to say it isn’t hard—but I’m much more often happy. There’s nothing more joyful than helping the little ones live in better conditions. I want them to forget the bad owners who abandoned them and find new owners who will make them happy.”
“Are you also looking to place Cookie for adoption?”
“Cookie isn’t a dog to be adopted out. He’s family—a friend I’ve lived with since he was small.”
At Clara’s words, Rupert’s face tensed slightly. But as his default expression was impassive, it didn’t show much.
“I see.”
He fell thoughtful for a moment, then spoke again.
“The Irnosier ducal estate is fully equipped with facilities for keeping dogs. If we chose to, any dog could come at once.”
Uh… and your point?
Clara was nonplussed by the sudden bout of family boasting.
“I’ve long heard the fame of House Irnosier. And we all know, Your Grace, that you’re admirable in helping those in need. Everyone at the atelier respects you.”
At a loss for what to say, Clara offered a somewhat sycophantic reply.
But as if it wasn’t what he’d wanted, Rupert only dipped his head a little and fell quiet.
Then he simply watched Erna playing with Cookie.
He must dislike flattery.
That was where the conversation ended for the evening.
After that, while Clara made seven more dresses—
Rupert steadily came holding Erna’s hand, brought Clara late-night meals, and gifted Cookie treats and toys.
He also never neglected the sporadic bursts of family boasting.
A handsome noble treating her so kindly—she couldn’t wholly dislike it.
And yet…
Why does something keep feeling off?
That sense of dissonance was resolved by Rupert’s own mouth.
“What must I do to be able to be with Cookie?”
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