Chapter 72
“No. Calling it a mistake isn’t right—it was my fault.”
Claudio pressed a pale hand against his lips.
“Why are you apologizing all of a sudden?” Marsha asked, baffled.
“I was a bit of an ass yesterday, the way I spoke.”
“No, yesterday I was the one in the wrong.”
“What did you do wrong?”
“I overstepped.”
Claudio’s brows knit together.
But Marsha only looked at him with quiet puzzlement, as though she couldn’t make sense of his reaction.
It would almost be easier if she were mocking me instead.
Claudio shook his head.
“Don’t say things like that. How was it overstepping? You were worried about me. And I—”
Ah, how could he phrase it? Should he just be honest? The truth is I like you.
That’s why I held on to you like this.
But you don’t see it, and you keep belittling yourself, and I hate hearing that…
Claudio’s frown deepened.
If he blurted something like that now, Marsha would only be bewildered.
Worse, she might find him repulsive—for using her weakness as leverage, just to keep her close.
But when I first put that contract in front of her, I didn’t even understand my own feelings.
If I had known… I wouldn’t have done it.
But even that sounded like nothing more than an excuse.
So I can’t say it. Not now.
The timing was wrong.
If he let his emotions carry him away, it would only escalate things.
To Marsha—who already considered herself beneath him—his feelings could only seem one-sided and coercive.
Almost like what his father had done, crushing his mother’s emotions beneath him.
Meanwhile, Marsha felt unsettled by the situation.
She knew by now that Claudio was not the cruel, cold duke people whispered about.
He was, in truth, a man who always apologized when he was wrong.
She trusted him—not because of the contract, but because of Claudio himself.
But… he wasn’t the kind of man to apologize for something that wasn’t his fault.
The scolding he’d given her yesterday reminded her more of Anna, the maid she had once followed around like an aunt, warning her when she spoke ill of Rosanna.
So it was me being hurt that was the problem…
Then why was he acting like a guilty dog waiting for its master’s forgiveness?
Ah. There I go, thinking rudely again.
And besides, what kind of dog looked like him?
A wolf, maybe…
She shook her head to chase the thought away.
“I understand what you mean, but you don’t have to concern yourself with me like that anymore. What employer worries over an employee to such an extent…?”
“Employer?”
His sharp tone cut her words short.
Marsha faltered, her lips parting but no sound coming.
“Do you really think we’re nothing more than two people who signed a contract? Besides, you’re the one who saved my life.”
He met her eyes squarely.
“You are unique to me—an irreplaceable, special existence.”
Marsha’s round eyes wavered.
Not again…
Words like that made her feel as though she truly was someone special—more than just a life-saver.
Her heart pounded foolishly, thump, thump, all over again.
She didn’t want to be swept away by that giddy thrill.
She must not be swept away.
Get a hold of yourself.
There was no reason she should be anything more to Claudio than the woman who saved him.
What had she really done?
He’s only saying that to make me feel good.
She tried to calm her reckless heart with that thought—until he spoke again.
“You’re thinking something strange right now.”
“What?”
“You thought I only said those words to please you, didn’t you?”
Marsha’s eyes went wide, ready to pop out.
A ghost! He’s reading my mind like a ghost!
“I don’t say things just to sound nice.”
His voice was firm.
“If I thought of myself as your employer, I wouldn’t even be speaking to you like this. Even if I needed something, I wouldn’t come to you directly.”
He didn’t care if Marsha couldn’t grasp the full depth of his feelings.
But…
“Please, don’t misunderstand me. If you keep thinking that way, even I might…”
He trailed off, unable to finish.
But his expression told her well enough what those words would have been.
Oh, honestly…
Marsha felt like the villain now, uneasy and restless.
“…Anyway, I understand what you mean, Your Grace.”
Her cheeks flushed as she swallowed her embarrassment.
Claudio’s worried eyes lit up with relief.
“Then, about the outing…”
“No. I’ll be going alone.”
At that, his temples throbbed, his eyes narrowing.
“How am I supposed to win back your favor, then?”
“There’s no need. It’s not as though I’m upset.”
Her voice was a little curt, but Claudio felt oddly reassured by that—by the glimpse of the unguarded Marsha he was used to.
“Then why?”
“I’d rather go quietly. If I go out with you, we’ll draw far too much attention, won’t we?”
“….”
Claudio blinked, as if the thought had never even occurred to him.
***
All the way in the carriage, Marsha kept recalling the stunned look on his face.
Why was he so… foolish, for once?
Had her coolness really troubled him that much?
What am I to him, anyway?
If she was this “unique, special existence”… was that just another way of saying friend?
“…”
The word made her chest tighten painfully.
If Claudio ever declared her a friend outright, she thought the ground might collapse beneath her.
Why?
A friend was precious, important.
Even though Rosanna and Lucas had betrayed her, she had learned the meaning of friendship again through Berry.
So why did even the thought of being a “friend” to Claudio feel so unbearable?
Then, from somewhere deep in her mind, her old wounded self whispered:
Now you dare to want even that? With your station?
Marsha flinched as though she’d been scolded aloud.
“Are you all right, my lady?”
Her maid’s worried voice snapped her back. Marsha quickly waved her hands.
“No, no. I was just… lost in thought.”
She knew how flimsy that sounded, but the maid only gave her a gentle smile and nodded.
“The carriage must feel stifling. Look—we’ve arrived.”
Even as she spoke, the carriage slowed.
Marsha stepped down—and her eyes went wide at the sight before her.
She had expected a large park, but not one so vast it seemed endless.
The trees were spaced with such skill that the views stretched wide and open.
But the strangest thing was…
I thought it would be crowded.
Only a handful of older ladies strolled the gardens in pairs or trios.
Marsha had come thinking it might serve as a useful social topic later.
Well… at least it will be peaceful for a walk.
She wandered leisurely with her maid.
Each section showed off the handiwork of renowned gardeners.
It’s so different from the Duchy of Domique.
There, gardens were built mostly with trees; even rose bushes grew waist-high.
But here, they favored flowers—low, colorful spreads, though sometimes tall rose trees stood as high as a person, like the ones in Claudio’s villa.
I wonder if that tree’s been cut down by now.
The crape myrtle of the Emerald Garden came to mind—the symbol of the place.
She remembered how furious she’d been when Mr. Pudel had said he would fell it.
It still doesn’t sit well, even now.
She had thought time might dull the anger, let her forgive.
But the sting lingered.
Maybe it always will.
She pushed herself to focus on the tranquil scenery instead.
Her maid, mistaking her interest for enthusiasm, eagerly described each section.
By the time they reached the opposite side of the park, she realized how far they’d come.
“Oh heavens, I’ve been chattering all this way and never once suggested a rest!” the maid fretted.
“I’m fine. It wasn’t tiring—and it was enjoyable.”
At Marsha’s kind reply, the maid flushed and smiled, then quickly guided her to a bench.
“Please wait here a moment. I’ll fetch the carriage.”
“What? No, we can just walk back together—”
“Absolutely not! You’ve been walking for over an hour. You need a rest.”
Marsha was a little embarrassed.
Only an hour’s stroll, and the fuss was this great?
“It won’t take long. The coachman will have moved the carriage closer by now.”
The maid craned her neck toward the busy street outside.
There were many carriages gathered there, though few ladies strolling the gardens.
Ah.
The other entrance must lead to the market district.
Unlike the quiet side she had entered from, that gate was loud and bustling.
With so many carriages, it might be hard to find ours…
She wanted to offer help, but knew no young lady would be expected to.
“…All right. Take your time, don’t worry about me.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The maid smiled and hurried off.
Marsha tilted her face up to the sky.
It was overcast, but not so much that it threatened rain.
If the sun were out, it would be stiflingly hot…
She had been waiting about ten minutes when a commotion rose from the road.
“Thief!”
An older woman screamed.
Marsha snapped her head toward the noise just as a man came barreling down the path, clutching a handbag.
Several men—coachmen, it seemed—chased after him, but the distance between them only grew.
“Out of my way! Damn it!”
The thief shouted at a frail old lady blocking his path.
The poor woman froze, cowering in place.
At this rate, he would crash into her—
The thief planned to shove her aside and bolt, perhaps even counting on her fall to slow his pursuers.
But instead—
“Ghhhk!”
He pitched forward, tripping hard over Marsha’s outstretched foot.
