Chapter 34
“That was a promise that there would certainly be young nobles courting Miss Victoria. Nowhere else in the Empire does a head maid plan and host a debutante ball. If only the Viscountess had been around and you’d gotten engaged sooner, my lord.”
If there had been a lady of the house, would a maid like me even need to step in? Isn’t this all your fault for not settling down?
Anne subtly lifted her head and smiled as she replied to Hannibal in the refined manner of the capital.
Hannibal clenched his fist, seeming to recognize the sarcasm hidden beneath her calm tone.
Did she take lessons somewhere on how to irritate people without showing it?
“I’ll ask the Marchioness of Deruka.”
“I’m sorry, but… could you possibly introduce another noblewoman instead?”
“Why? There’s no one as well-versed in western social circles or skilled at teaching dance as the Marchioness. Do you have someone else in mind?”
Anne shook her head at the rising suspicion.
“It’s not that. I just thought that Miss Victoria and the Marchioness might find each other a bit uncomfortable.”
“She even had her debutante ball at Deruka’s villa. What could be uncomfortable now? Victoria’s reputation is already the worst in Tegenes. It won’t be easy to find another teacher. And even asking the Marchioness might not result in acceptance.”
Whose fault was that? Hannibal never treated Victoria badly for being born out of wedlock, but he wasn’t particularly interested in her either.
Anne bit back the urge to blame him.
He was only two years older than Victoria. Could she really blame him? They said he was more familiar with life outside the estate than within it.
Fourteen years old. Even younger than the Jamie she had met again.
Just imagining a child her younger brother’s age near a battlefield made Anne’s heart tighten, but Hannibal Clayde had lived in the midst of war since that young age.
Anne knew Hannibal Clayde was a lord worthy of respect.
He was diligent, and he genuinely cared about the territory and its people.
If only he could spare even half that interest for his own family—his younger sister Victoria.
If he gave just half the effort he put into tracking the daily market prices of goods delivered to the manor, he could’ve found her a better tutor.
“Yes, please. I’d be grateful.”
But for now, the most urgent need was a tutor. Anne could only accept it with gratitude.
“Now it’s time for you to listen to me.”
Anne tensed and lifted her gaze from the floor. What did he have to say to her alone?
“Nicholas Will was caught.”
“…What?”
“He tried to escape through the gates in the cargo compartment of a Hechia merchant wagon.”
Hechia was a merchant group based in the capital city of Edith Tara—of all places.
“Both the merchant’s family and Nicholas Will were executed.”
With that, the matter of May Marlowe was officially closed.
And it had only further deepened Hannibal Clayde’s mistrust of the capital.
“Anne Ferro.”
“Yes?”
Without realizing it, she had been sighing repeatedly. Feeling Hannibal’s eyes on her after he called her name, she lifted her head.
“Do you have a wish?”
“…Pardon?”
Despite the obvious wariness and suspicion in his eyes, the words he spoke were completely different in nature.
“You’re eligible for a reward for reporting the May Marlowe case.”
“Having you find a tutor for Miss Victoria is more than enough.”
“That’s not your reward. Tell me what you want—something that would benefit you directly.”
“…?”
How could a maid, whose duty was to serve her master, want something just for herself?
Sure, Anne had resolved to live well on her own when she turned back time—but that was for a distant future, long after her employment ended.
A wish for a time when she was no longer anyone’s maid or servant.
Anne stood there blankly, forgetting she was staring directly at Hannibal.
“Is becoming the head maid what you want?”
She snapped out of her daze.
She couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity while hesitating.
“The head maid position should be decided after Miss Victoria’s debutante ball.”
“Hah, so confident.”
“And you said if she received any proposals, you’d grant me a wish.”
“You remembered that?”
“Yes.”
“So, do you have one now?”
“I do.”
“…What is it?”
“Severance pay.”
“Severance pay? You haven’t even worked that long, and you’re already thinking of quitting?”
Hannibal furrowed his brows.
Seeing his discomfort at the mention of her retirement, Anne felt a quiet sense of pride. Maybe she had been useful after all.
“Not immediately. I’d like you to include the reward now into my severance pay for the future.”
“Do you have plans for after you quit?”
Most maids stayed bound to their lord’s household for life. They either retired with honor when they grew old—or got dismissed.
Anne Ferro’s eyes lit up at the mention of retirement, as if she had already made up her mind.
“You’ve made arrangements in the capital?”
Anne waved her hands at Hannibal’s suspicion.
“No, not at all. I just dream of living happily alone in a small house with a view of the river or sea, tending a small garden in the front and a vegetable patch in the back.”
“Alone?”
A twenty-year-old woman not only dreaming of retirement, but also wanting to live alone?
Hannibal tried to read any falsehood in her flustered expression, but Anne was inwardly frustrated.
“I’m honestly just not that interested in marriage.”
Now that was unexpected.
A young woman saying she didn’t want to marry?
It sparked not suspicion or concern, but genuine curiosity.
“Why?”
“I’m not a noble, and it’s not like I have to get married to live. I just don’t see a compelling reason.”
Anne Ferro was twenty, a head maid, skilled, and diligent. She could certainly take care of herself.
Not an unreasonable answer—but still, who lived like that?
Even in Edith Tara, which was more liberal than the West, most women were desperate to find husbands by their mid-twenties, regardless of status.
“You’re an odd one.”
Still, wasn’t it better that she was odd and unpredictable than a suspicious spy from the capital?
That thought even made Hannibal let out a dry chuckle.
“You’re right, Anne Ferro. If it’s not something you must do, then there’s no need to force it.”
A conservative and insular lord, and yet Hannibal spoke as if he understood her.
It seemed they shared the same sentiment—after all, in her previous life, Anne had never heard of Hannibal ever marrying.
Relieved, Anne finally allowed a small smile to form.
“A house, you say. Fine—I’ll give you one.”
“…Pardon?”
Anne’s mouth fell open.
Hannibal pulled out a blank document from the drawer and began scribbling on it.
The amount field was empty, but the recipient’s name was clearly written: Anne Ferro. And the signature below: Hannibal Clayde.
With the lord’s seal stamped firmly, it was essentially a blank check.
“When you retire, I’ll give you a house near the Oasis. Until then, keep this document safe.”
“And the severance pay… is separate?”
Anne bowed low, clutching the paper in her hands, and asked.
“It’s separate.”
“Yes! Thank you very much!”
Whatever feelings Hannibal Clayde may have had toward her, he was at least generous to his employees—and that was a blessing.
Anne gave her deepest, most sincere bow to him and quietly left the room.
* * *
“Do I really have to get married?”
Hannibal muttered as he tossed the list of potential brides sent by his father into the fireplace.
“Of course you do. What are you going to do if the lord has no heir?”
Oliver answered as he prodded the burning papers deeper into the flames with a poker.
On the desk lay documents sent from the capital—just three pages with sparse handwriting. Not much, considering how hard they’d pressured Anne.
As Oliver stirred the crackling kindling, he added,
“Anne Ferro seemed to have gone through a lot because of Grey Benton. She couldn’t just kick him out since her brother relies on him, but imagine how that looked to the Duchess. I’m surprised she didn’t send an assassin after Anne. The only reason she didn’t might be because the victim was a bastard.”
“If Grey Benton rises in influence, though, who knows?”
“It was years ago. Won’t they just let it go?”
“…”
Then again, some people don’t forget.
Feeling awkward, Oliver turned away and stirred the ashes more vigorously.
“Yep, all burned. Not a single word left.”
As Oliver grumbled, Hannibal stared out the window and murmured,
“I wonder if there are any nice houses near the Oasis.”
“You’re buying a villa too? Good idea!”
Hannibal made a face at his friend’s excitement and quietly picked up his pen.
It was time to write a letter to the Marchioness of Deruka.
