TMLWA 04

Chapter 4

“Master Grey, may I ask a favor of you?”

At that moment, there was neither debt nor obligation between Anne and Grey. It would still take time for kindness and interest to grow into affection.

Anne asked the thirteen-year-old Grey with pure sincerity.

“Sure!”

The cheerful boy nodded enthusiastically.

Anne relaxed her tense and rigid expression and smiled brightly. Grey, like a baby bird mimicking its mother, opened his mouth in a wide grin.

Looking at him, Anne thought back.

After losing her parents in a barn fire when she was seven, her only remaining family was her younger brother.

But in order for them to survive, someone had to make money. Anne left her brother with her aunt, burying her aching heart, and entered the Duke’s household as a maid.

Back then, she thought that earning money would solve everything. But that alone hadn’t been enough to protect her only brother.

This time, she was determined to prevent her brother’s unnoticed and untimely death.

She no longer wanted to remember her little brother’s face as just a child preserved in her memory.

It was assumed that Jamie had died in the winter at the age of fifteen. That meant there wasn’t much time left.

“I would like to recommend my younger brother as your attendant.”

“I’d rather it be you.”

At his immediate answer, Anne’s smile faded slightly. Sensing something, Grey hesitated and nibbled at the tip of his fingernail.

“Where is your brother now?”

“He’s staying at my aunt’s house, but if possible, I’d like for him to stay here with me. He’s the same age as you, so I believe he could be a good companion for you.”

Unlike herself, who had to start working the moment she arrived at her aunt’s to earn her and her brother’s share of food, Jamie hadn’t been pushed into labor—even if he had faced discrimination and cold treatment.

But now he was thirteen. It was time to become more independent, and being trained as a servant of the Benton family wouldn’t be a bad option.

Also, if he worked here, Anne could teach him to read and write and help him prepare for the future.

“Alright. I’ll talk to the Duchess—”

“I’ll explain things to her myself. But if she asks for your opinion, please support my request.”

If Grey took the initiative and it was seen as favoritism, it could backfire. Anne cut him off, a bit rudely.

Thankfully, Grey didn’t seem offended.

“I will. But in return—”

White sheets flapped in the wind in the backyard. The sunlight reflected on them lit up Grey’s face beautifully.

“I’d like you to eat with me from now on.”

Looking at the young boy, she suddenly remembered the old days when they sat side by side on a worn-out little sofa, chatting endlessly.

He used to tickle her with a mischievous grin, and whenever tears welled up in her eyes, his gaze would droop, watching her like a concerned puppy.

“A maid cannot sit at the same table as her master.”

But that would never happen again.

You will become the Duke of Benton, and I will still be a maid.

“I eat in my room anyway. You can just bring your meal and eat with me there.”

“But still—”

“Just until your brother comes. Please, this is my request.”

There wasn’t a girl in the world who wouldn’t be enchanted by the smile of such a beautiful boy. How could a seventeen-year-old Anne not fall in love with him?

But Anne Ferro reminded herself as she traced her memories.

Nothing has happened yet. And nothing ever will.

After losing both her husband and biological son to war, Elizabeth, the Duchess of Benton, had to urgently bring Grey into the household to preserve the ducal title.

She had once shamelessly accepted Grey as her own flesh and blood, as if she’d never despised him—but the woman he loved still appeared disgraceful in her eyes.

Even in the presence of the servants, she would casually demean Anne.

Still, Anne trusted and loved Grey.

Even when she was shunned at parties she attended with him at his invitation.

Even when she was under the constant watch of the former duchess and couldn’t so much as touch a penny of her own budget.

Anne endured it all.

What made all of it bearable was Grey’s love.

It wasn’t until just over a year after she became Duchess of Benton that Anne became pregnant.

As soon as she shared the news, the husband who had been too busy to see her regularly began visiting her every night.

Thanks to his nightly visits, the time she had to endure the former duchess’s spite in secret melted away like snow.

She became more confident, her voice louder, now that she was carrying the Duke’s child.

“You filthy thing, climbing above your station.”

Even the former duchess’s scolding didn’t sting as much anymore.

Anne was the legitimate Duchess, and she was carrying Grey’s child—the heir to the duchy.

Was it because she had dared to feel too happy?

Or had the former duchess never wanted Anne to bear Grey’s child in the first place?

“Ugh, my stomach—my stomach hurts!”

I have a baby. Our precious baby—mine and Grey’s.

“Help me—!!”

Clatter.

The spoon she had been holding fell to the floor, and Anne collapsed on the dining room floor, clutching her abdomen. The pain dragged her into darkness.

When she opened her eyes, she was on a bed. Her body already felt light.

Had she eaten something bad? She had no strength to investigate what had gone wrong.

“Your body was weak. First pregnancies are always risky, you know.”

Anne wept as she looked at her husband.

“Anne, it’s okay. You can always have another.”

Grey soothed her, placing a hand on her forehead.

But to Anne, this child was not just a symbol of lineage or inheritance.

During her hard life in hiding, there hadn’t even been time for a child. But after moving into the ducal residence, each day was a prison of boredom and pressure.

She spent her days anxiously waiting for her husband’s return while keeping an eye on the former duchess.

Even when he returned, the Duke was often stuck in meetings or the salon until late at night due to the former duchess’s calls.

So when she became pregnant, how relieved and happy she had been.

This child was a symbol of her secure relationship with Grey, the most undeniable proof of her place in the ducal household.

I can be part of the Benton family, too.

But that hope and dream shattered with the miscarriage.

At twenty-seven, Anne miscarried. And while she withered alone inside the ducal mansion, Grey soared through the capital and court with the wings of a Duke.

At countless parties, young and beautiful women swarmed him. Noble ladies and daughters of titled families cheered his every appearance, caring little about his marital status.

Behind him, the former duchess would sigh dramatically at every party.

“That lowly girl can’t even bear a proper heir. If I could, I’d divorce her this instant.”

Did Grey really not know the countless rumors that reached Anne’s ears, passed from maid to maid?

Still, Anne never asked.

She believed in his love.

She simply waited. She thought if she trusted and waited, her husband’s love would return.

He was the one who had shared her pain and endurance, who had built unforgettable memories with her. Her partner.

Anne believed that when Grey grew tired of his glamorous noble life, he would naturally return to her side.

One night, worn down by her long wait, Anne smiled softly as she tucked an old fountain pen into a drawer.

It was a pen she had saved money to buy with great effort.

A cheap one with a clumsy gold trim under the cap, the kind no one in the ducal household would use. But because Grey had used it, Anne treasured it dearly.

Though she had never written with it since placing it in the drawer, she would sometimes take it out to remember him.

That’s when she heard a noise outside in the hallway.

“The young madam is asleep, Your Grace.”

It was the voice of a maid.

“Is that so?”

It seemed Duke Grey Benton had returned from a party quite drunk. Anne could hear the sound of the maid supporting his staggering body.

“Your Grace?”

The maid didn’t avoid the approaching figure.

Soon, the two of them pressed against the hallway wall. Then came the sound of a door opening—a vacant room. Labored breathing and faint moans leaked through the closed door.

At that moment, a door opened in the otherwise empty hallway.

Anne hadn’t been sleeping.

She stood in front of her door, trembling.

She wanted to grab the doorknob, open it, and scream. Like a madwoman, she wanted to rip out the hair of the woman seducing her husband, drag her to the garden, and throw her out.

As her hand shook on the doorknob, footsteps echoed from the end of the hallway.

Tch.

A soft scoff full of mockery.

The hallway was silent except for the faint moans seeping from the nearby room, which made the scoff sound even louder.

Anne looked toward the silhouette in the distance and mouthed the words.

Mother?

She had never called her that aloud.

The former duchess stood at the end of the hallway.

She looked Anne up and down—so pitiful and shabby—and curled her lip into a sneer.

“You’re finished.”