15.
“It seems something good has happened to everyone.”
Ash, who had been smoothing back his fringe with pomade and adjusting his appearance, asked with a puzzled look.
“What do you mean by that?”
Hoshi gave a faint smile and pointed out the window.
“Look there, Your Grace.
They’re all smiling, are they not?”
The maids were walking briskly with armfuls of garments, their faces bright with cheer.
Just as Hoshi had said, smiles seemed to linger on every mouth, as if some happy fortune had come their way.
Ash watched them absentmindedly—until, all at once, the head maid’s recent report flashed across his mind.
“The Madam has gifted us new uniforms.
She said the others would be distributed to the staff in turn.”
So that was why she had sent Marsha to the dressmaker.
The garments the maids now carried in their arms must be the very uniforms his wife had newly provided.
“Still, it seems Her Ladyship has been rather quiet of late.”
“Well… I’m not certain ‘quiet’ is the right word.”
Judging by the way she had reclaimed authority over the household from the head maid, it seemed likely that her attempt with the divorce card had failed, and she was already devising some new scheme.
Seeing her concern even extend to the servants’ livery—something she had never cared about before—he could not help but suspect she had abandoned the thought of leaving and was instead trying to secure her place as mistress of the house.
“In any case, it’s true the Madam has not been pestering Your Grace these days.”
“……”
Yes.
The last time he had seen his wife’s face was that day.
She had once unleashed her underlings like hounds, feeding them scraps of his private affairs, and confronted him with jealous accusations.
Yet all of that had ceased at once, as though cut off on that day.
For the past two years, there had scarcely been a day without raised voices in the household—so the unbroken peace that followed felt all the more ominous.
Like the stillness before a storm.
It was proof enough that his married life thus far had been nothing short of hell.
“…Surely the Madam does not mean to absent herself today?”
“Who can say.”
“Of all occasions, this is the Duke of Grenville’s birthday celebration.”
The Duke of Grenville’s birthday fête was a grand occasion, a social stage that drew crowds of every age and station.
As the Empress’s brother and the late Duke Taylor’s closest friend, Grenville stood as one of the realm’s undisputed powers.
With so many eminent guests in attendance, it was an ideal venue for young men and women newly debuted into society to seek out prospective spouses.
And yet—his wife, who would glare daggers at him for so much as exchanging glances with another woman, might not appear?
“If she wishes to attend, she will.
If not, then she won’t.”
The fact that she had not spoken a word of accompanying him left open the possibility of her absence, but given the event was none other than Grenville’s birthday celebration, her attendance seemed far more likely.
“Enough chatter.
If you’re ready, just follow me.”
Ash draped his coat over his shoulders and strode from the room.
A part of him braced for his wife to suddenly appear from some corner.
But as he crossed the grand hall and mounted the carriage, not even her shadow stirred.
“It seems her absence is assured.”
At Hoshi’s muttered remark as he climbed into the carriage beside him, Ash closed his eyes with a mask of indifference.
Once they had left the estate, his wife’s attendance—or lack thereof—no longer concerned him.
What did weigh on his mind was the thought of another needless bout of fencing with the Duke of Grenville.
The very notion had his nerves already on edge.
Grenville had doted on Nina as though she were his own niece.
Ever since the wedding, he had looked upon Ash with thinly veiled displeasure at the ceaseless scandals.
Go only where you are welcome, or so the saying went.
But Grenville, like Ash himself, was a member of the Emperor’s faction.
be allowed to surface.
To bare open discord would be to hand the opposition a feast.
Thus, appearances had to be kept, however hollow.
Folding his arms, Ash leaned back and shut his eyes, intent on stealing what little rest he could before the gathering began.
***
Smooth.
Untroubled.
Not in recent memory had her days flowed with such quiet ease.
Melanie had carried out her orders more faithfully than Nina had dared expect.
Repairs to the servants’ quarters, the distribution of household supplies, the hiring of new maids
—each task was progressing without a hitch, and every day brought her a precise report.
Loyalty to the household, distrust toward its mistress, and a penny-pinching spirit that could rival old Scrooge himself—
those qualities had once made Nina fear resistance to her directives.
Yet, to her relief, none had materialized.
“And how are they reacting?”
It was early morning when the uniforms she had ordered from the dressmaker finally arrived.
The moment they arrived, she summoned the housekeeper and butler, instructing them to see that every servant received their share.
Yet she couldn’t help but wonder how they had taken it.
Had her standing within the household risen, if only a little?
When she asked, Marsha hurried over, cheeks flushed, and whispered eagerly,
“They’re saying the sun must have risen in the west—everyone’s delighted!”
Of course.
She had expected no less.
Cloth in this world was nothing like the sturdy fabrics of her former life.
The uniforms given at the time of hire could hardly endure long years of wear, and it was not uncommon for servants to pay from their own pockets to mend or replace them.
That she had spared them such expense made their joy inevitable.
“And besides that?”
“Mm… I don’t know if this is something to be pleased about or not…”
Nina’s expression tightened as Marsha hesitated with an awkward look.
“Well?
What is it…?”
“They’re saying my lady must have knocked her head and changed her nature.
That you… well, injured yourself in just the right way.”
“…….”
At those words, Nina’s face twisted into a strange expression—half laughter, half tears.
“…Shall I go and tear those wagging mouths apart for you?”
No, leave it.
Let them talk—better that than worse.”
After all, it meant there were people who believed she had truly changed.
And besides, there wasn’t a soul in this house who didn’t know her skull had been cracked open.
If only the memory of that night—when she had wept and clung to her husband in desperation—could be erased as easily.
But that was impossible, and she could only accept it.
Nina swallowed down a bitter smile at the shadow of disgrace that still clung to her like a tail.
Still, time heals.
Time makes people forget.
Just as entertainers return to the stage after scandal, welcomed back as if nothing had happened.
“By the way, my lady, are you truly not attending Duke Grenville’s birthday celebration?”
“That’s right.
I’m not.”
Marsha tilted her head, puzzled that her mistress would decline a gathering hosted by the very duke who had always shown her favor.
But Nina had her reasons.
…When her family fell into ruin.
Though Duke Grenville had been her father’s closest friend, there was no particular aid to be had from him.
The Taylors had incurred the wrath of the Crown, and with the fault so clear, to side with them rashly would have endangered Grenville himself.
She could understand that much.
No matter how deep the friendship, who could willingly board a sinking ship?
He had his own house to protect.
There was no resentment in her heart for that.
The real problem was different—by now, word had already spread far and wide that she had once gone so far as to demand her husband share her bed… only to be coldly rejected.
Her younger brother Neville, two years her junior, had put it most cruelly.
“Having you as my sister is nothing but a nightmare… a shame I can hardly endure.”
That day at Duke Grenville’s birthday celebration, it must have been those words from her younger brother that lingered in her mind.
I miss them…
Her grandfather, her parents, even Neville.
But she could not see them yet—not like this.
Only when I have at least a shred of dignity again… only then will I be able to face them.
And besides, the Duchess of Grenville had never liked her.
The duke might have regarded her fondly, like a niece, but to the duchess she was nothing more than the inconvenient daughter of her husband’s friend—someone best kept at arm’s length.
“The duke must be leaving now.”
At Marsha’s words, Nina glanced out the window.
A carriage was rolling out of the estate gates.
“Still, isn’t it strange?
He didn’t even ask if you would like to accompany him—he just left.”
“Marsha, if you were him, would you really want to ask me that?”
Marsha pouted, lips sticking out in protest.
“But wasn’t it the duke himself who refused the divorce?
At least he could have asked, couldn’t he?”
“That’s only because you’re on my side that you can say such things.”
From the beginning, his rejection of divorce and decision to adopt a nephew had all been rooted in his mistrust of her.
Had they never married, none of this would have come to pass.
Whatever the case, it was easier on her heart to shoulder all the blame herself.
Nina gave Marsha a wry smile as the maid sighed, clearly upset on her mistress’s behalf.
“Oh, that reminds me.
I overheard the maids talking earlier—they said there was an earthquake at dawn.”
“An earthquake?”
“Yes.
They were cleaning the dining room hearth when suddenly the ground shook.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
Nina asked, startled.
If a chandelier had fallen during the tremor, someone could easily have been injured.
But then—a strange sense of déjà vu made her pause mid-thought.