14.
“Explain.”
“The first sacks found to be infested belonged to Viscount Courtney.
It kept happening with his supplies, so we checked more closely—and over half of it was already spoiled.”
Only then did Ash realize why Hoshi was looking so pleased.
The viscount’s second son had presided as judge in the second trial of the guardianship case.
“So, you mean to use this as leverage—to force testimony about the High Justice’s interference.”
If it became known that spoiled provisions had been sent to a charity event, infesting and ruining other houses’ contributions as well, the fury of the Imperial Court would be inevitable.
Viscount Courtney would have no choice but to bring his second son to heel.
“For the sake of the High Justice’s advanced age and fragile health, don’t you think it’s time we let him retire gracefully?”
“……”
Ash fell silent.
Ash’s voice lowered, and as his advisor’s sly smile lingered before him, Nina’s words from that day surfaced once more.
“…All right.
I’ll abide by your wishes.
But if—if ever you should change your mind, please tell me, no matter when.”
Yet how could he believe in her change after just a handful of conversations, when the rift carved out by two long years still ran so deep?
He pressed down the unease clawing at his chest.
“…Very well.
Proceed as planned.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But how did you even come by that information?
Didn’t you request leave for your brother’s wedding?”
“I thought it best to make a stop before my return.
A competent aide checks every angle before an important matter, wouldn’t you agree?”
Ash gave a faint chuckle at Hoshi’s self-satisfied expression.
But it lasted only a moment.
The charity event was now barely two months away.
“Summon Viscount Courtney at once, and see to it that no shortage arises—have the merchants near the capital secure fresh provisions.”
“Yes, my lord.
Then I shall take my leave.”
Since the warehouse had been lent and overseen by House Bayern, Ash could not escape responsibility for the blunder.
Tap.
Tap.
His fingertips beat the desk at steady intervals, while the gray depths of his eyes grew ever darker.
***
Since she had baited her little sparrows with the promise of freedom, half of her troubles could be considered solved.
Nina gnawed absently at her lower lip, lost in thought.
I should explain it to him somehow…
That she had dropped her usury racket, and that she had set the servants to track down the Duchess of Norde’s informant.
But how was she supposed to explain all that to a man who bristled the moment their eyes met?
If she went to him again saying she had “something to discuss,” he’d probably snap that she had far too much to say and drive her out.
…Should I ask the head maid instead?
Nina immediately ran a simulation in her head.
“I’ve called you because I have a favor to ask.”
“Yes, milady.”
“…Well, the truth is, I used to saddle the servants with debts and made them spy on my husband… but this time, I’ve cleared their debts on the condition they expose the Norde Duchess’s stooges.”
“……”
“Could you perhaps tell the duke that I’ve truly come to my senses, and that I hope he won’t misunderstand?”
“……”
“……”
Her expression suddenly froze, a wave of bleak self-awareness crashing over her.
“Haa…”
The thought of begging the head maid to carry her excuses to her husband felt unbearably pathetic.
…What am I supposed to do?
After being tormented by a paranoid wife for so long, what her husband probably wished from her was indifference.
Which meant, for the time being, she needed to keep her social distance while proving—without words—that she was no longer the woman she used to be.
If she tried to explain herself now, he would only grow more suspicious.
If I want to earn his trust…
The butler and the head maid.
They were her husband’s most loyal retainers, an impregnable fortress guarding his side.
Winning them over was the only logical first step.
“Milady, the head maid’s uniform has arrived!”
Nina’s face brightened at the sight of Marsha, her arms full with a large box.
Perfect timing.
She had been wondering how to approach the two of them.
“What about the others?”
“They’re still hard at work, but the workshop promised to deliver the first batch on schedule.
The butler’s uniform should be ready tomorrow.”
“Good.
Then fetch the head maid for me.”
For now, she would start with a gift.
***
The servants’ opinion of the Duchess of Bayern was rock bottom.
Inside and outside the household, there was hardly a soul who didn’t mock or sneer at Nina.
Yet Melanie was one of the few who never voiced such contempt aloud.
Even if the mistress was unsatisfactory or displeasing, she was still their superior.
A proper servant might click their tongue or curse her inwardly, but never let it show.
Especially those of long-standing families who had served the Bayerns for generations—unlike the fickle hirelings who came and went—their silence was part of their loyalty.
And another part of that “professional courtesy” was…
“…Did you see?
Not even a full day after declaring she’d take charge of the household again, she’s already called in the dressmakers.”
“I really thought it was odd how quiet she’d been.
For a moment I almost believed she’d finally come to her senses.
But no, people don’t change, do they?”
“You honestly think that after living under her for two years?”
“I figured that knock to the head had changed her temperament.
And it was her idea to hire new staff, wasn’t it…?”
As she passed down the corridor, Melanie stopped dead at the sound of cackling laughter.
“You there.”
The maids, who had been dusting the window frame while giggling, nearly jumped out of their skins as though they’d seen a ghost.
“H–Head Maid!”
Melanie’s voice was cold.
“I have told you time and again-first rule, watch your tongue.
Second rule, watch your tongue.
After seeing two of your peers dismissed not long ago, have you still learned nothing?”
“We—we’re sorry!”
Their chatter had hovered at the very edge of impropriety-not enough for dismissal, but punishment was still in order.
“Tonight, during supper, the two of you will scrub down the corridor railings.”
In other words, while the other maids dined, these two would go hungry.
Leaving the tearful girls behind, Melanie continued on her way toward her lady’s chambers.
“Is this household truly so feeble that it cannot stand without your sacrifices?”
Had Her Ladyship’s display been nothing more than another ploy, just as His Grace suspected?
At the mention of summoning the dressmakers, disappointment had begun to stir.
I must confirm Her Ladyship’s intentions.
If she had already returned to her old extravagance, what little budget remained could all too easily be squandered.
“Head Maid!”
As Melanie ascended the grand staircase, her face set in grave lines, Marsha appeared with a flushed, excited expression.
“Marsha, you know better than to be so unrestrained inside the house.”
At Melanie’s reproach, Marsha gave an abashed little laugh.
“Forgive me.
I was looking for you, Head Maid.
Her Ladyship requests your presence.”
“Her Ladyship?”
“Yes.
Please, come quickly.”
Melanie trailed behind, her expression less than pleased as Marsha hummed cheerfully despite her earlier rebuke.
“You called for me, milady.”
The Duchess’s private drawing room.
So it was true—a messenger from the dressmaker had come that morning.
On the table lay a neatly wrapped box.
But… it seemed the contents were not meant for Her Grace after all.
“Take it.”
Melanie accepted the box, and, with a wary edge to her voice, asked cautiously,
“…May I ask what this is?”
It was only natural.
In the early days of the marriage, the Duchess had tried to win her over with costly gifts.
“A new uniform for you.
I purchased it with my own purse, so do not worry about the household budget.
Simply accept it.”
“…Why would you…”
Nina’s sea-colored eyes grew distant, as if recalling something long past, a faint smile softening her lips.
“When I first saw you, you were wearing this very uniform.”
Her gaze drifted to the trim of Melanie’s sleeve.
The navy collar
—so dark it nearly passed for black—revealed, upon closer look, the wear of many years.
And the cuff buttons, dulled and scarred by time, spoke to the fact that Melanie’s exacting standards applied as much to herself as to others.
“Your habit of treasuring even the most worn things—your character, your heart—I respect all of it.
But this uniform also holds memories of my own failings, does it not?”
Melanie looked at Nina, who had taken a deliberate step back as though to leave no room for refusal.
All the malice and venom
—cast off like an old husk—what remained was a mistress wearing a faint, bittersweet smile.
“I do not know how much longer I will remain here… but I want, at the very least, to be remembered as having ended not entirely badly.
Even if it is selfish of me, I cannot help it.”
Had she truly spent her days not only in regret but in honest reflection as well?
Realizing now that Nina had been contemplating divorce, Melanie pressed her lips together, a tangle of emotions stirring within her.