17.
“…Have you been well?”
At the Duke of Grenville’s warm greeting, Nina gathered herself and forced a smile.
“Yes, and I hope you’ve been in good health as well, Your Grace.”
“Of course.
I’ve been well.”
“…….”
Silence followed.
It seemed even he had heard the rumor—that she had thrown herself at her husband, begging him to share her bed.
Pity, concern,
and no small measure of sorrow flickered in his gaze, a mix of emotions she could not mistake.
“Since I’ve paid my respects, I should let you return to your other guests.”
“Well, I—”
“It’s all right.
I’ll come find you again before I leave.”
She caught the Duchess of Grenville’s sharp look, like a blade urging her to be gone, and Nina curved her lips in a rueful smile.
She had no intention of lingering anyway.
What mattered now was not polite conversation, but preventing the calamity she knew was about to strike.
A chandelier strung with dozens—hundreds—of crystals weighed as much as a grown man.
And if such a mass came crashing down from overhead?
The outcome required no explanation.
Nina’s gaze shot upward at once, fixing on the chandelier in question.
A chill prickled her skin.
There—standing directly beneath it—was the Marquis of Sothersford, in the very spot where the accident had occurred in her past life.
The chandelier showed no outward sign of fault.
Yet the simple fact that the Marquis stood there meant the accident was imminent.
For an instant, the grisly vision of blood and shattered crystal flickered before her eyes like a waking nightmare.
Her face drained of color, taut with dread, Nina drew in a breath and moved quickly toward him.
“…It has been a while, Marquis Sothersford.”
“Indeed.”
Allen M.
Sothersford.
Dark auburn hair, eyes to match.
A little over six feet tall, broad of shoulder, carrying a gentle cast to his features.
His answer given, he angled his body just so—subtle, but enough to break the line of their gaze.
The gesture alone declared her an unwelcome presence.
Not that Nina had expected anything warmer.
Whenever their paths had crossed, their exchanges had been cool, perfunctory greetings at best.
And so she, too, had never sought his company.
“…I hear your estate lies a great distance from here.
Was the journey troublesome?”
“As you can see, it was not.”
Allen’s reply was clipped, his champagne flute idly twirling.
His look—placid, indulgent, almost magnanimous—spoke volumes.
Your conversation bores me.
Ordinarily, such a dismissal would have sufficed.
She would have stepped aside and left him in peace.
But not tonight.
Not with that lethal weight swaying, ever so faintly, above his head.
She had to keep him talking, no matter how forced it felt.
“…Did you happen to hear there was an earthquake at dawn?”
“Can’t say I did.
I was asleep at that hour.”
“Our cellars were thrown into chaos because of it.
The wine stores—utterly ruined, and so…”
Creeeak.
A noise so faint it might have been imagined—yet to Nina’s ears it split the air like a blade.
Her nerves prickled, every hair on her arms standing rigid.
It was the sound of something straining, something about to give way.
A shiver ran down Nina’s spine as she darted a glance at the ceiling and hurried on.
“…Didn’t you hear a strange sound just now?”
“What do you mean?”
“That sound just now… No, never mind.
Wouldn’t you come over here instead?
Ever since I heard about the earthquake this morning, I can’t shake this ominous feeling.”
Unaware of her unease, Allen took a leisurely sip of champagne before replying.
“I don’t know what scheme brought you to approach me, my lady, but if you intend to use me for anything, you’d best give it up.”
“A scheme?
There’s nothing of the sort.
I only mentioned it because I had a bad feeling.
You seem to be overreacting.”
“Overreacting, is it?
Hmph…”
Allen let out a short, derisive laugh.
In a gentle voice, he dismissed her coldly.
“Better that than being dragged into strange rumors with you, don’t you think?
So I must ask for your understanding.
Kindly step aside.”
To top it off, he even jerked his chin in dismissal.
For all his mild features, his distaste was plain—his hostility toward her unmistakable.
This won’t do.
Fine, then—be a lunatic.
“And why, exactly, should I step aside?”
Please.
“Must I, the guest, be the one to yield?”
Please, please…
“You certainly could.
But this place isn’t yours, is it?
If you dislike facing me so much, you’re free to leave.
That would be the surest way.”
Please…!
But instead of retreating, her brazenness seemed only to spark his competitiveness.
He didn’t move.
He sipped his champagne at leisure, eyes fixed on her—
as if daring her to see who would back down first.
This won’t do.
She had to say it—the chandelier had been acting strange for a while now.
At worst, they’d dismiss her.
She had nothing to lose.
“Marquis, the truth is…”
Just as Nina steeled herself to speak—
“What exactly do you think you’re doing.”
Ash appeared.
His gray eyes were cold enough to cut flesh.
“Allen, you should leave.”
His voice was tight, pressed down with barely checked fury.
The marquis shook his head and reluctantly stepped aside.
“Showing up late is one thing, but what reason could you possibly have for approaching my friend—”
The shock of the unexpected interruption lasted only a moment.
“Darling, step away.
Now.”
Clink…
She heard it.
That faint sound—barely audible unless every nerve was strained toward the ceiling.
What else could it mean, when the chandelier’s crystals began to sway?
“…What—?”
Snap.
The sound of something giving way, in a split second.
Without a thought, Nina lunged at Ash, shoving his chest with all her strength.
Crash!
A heavy, piercing roar thundered behind her.
“……”
Silence fell in the wake of the shattering impact.
Eyes squeezed shut, trembling uncontrollably, Nina startled at the hard pressure against her cheek and looked up.
In the fall, Ash had ended up beneath her.
…Are you all right?”
He stared wide-eyed, frozen in shock.
Of course he was.
A chandelier crashing down—and her saving him?
That was the last thing he would have imagined.
Wait, I need to move.
She had practically thrown herself into the arms of the man who hated even the brush of her fingertips.
But the moment she tried to shift—
“Kh… hhht—”
A tremor quivered through her lips as a groan slipped out.
A hot, searing pain shot up her right leg.
Nina braced herself on the floor and turned her head toward the throbbing pain.
“Ugh…”
Shards of crystal lay scattered across her skirt, and beneath them, a slow bloom of crimson spread.
“Nina!”
The moment she realized she was hurt, a searing agony tore through her leg, forcing tears to the corners of her eyes.
“Ahh…”
Even the slightest movement sent scorching pain shooting along her nerves.
It felt as if her leg had been hacked apart by blades.
…Surely it wasn’t that bad, was it?
“Are you all right?
Can you move?”
“I-I’m fine.”
Nina forced a pale smile.
He must have been waiting for the chance to declare their severed ties, yet now, seeing his sister injured, that thought seemed to vanish from his mind.
Neville rushed to her side, face drained of all color, stumbling over his words.
“Quickly—summon the physician, at once!”
“My lord, let’s move her somewhere quiet first—hurry!”
The Duke and Duchess of Grenville, their faces ashen, rushed in to take command of the chaos.
A grievous accident, in the very hall meant for celebration.
It was only natural that their composure should waver
—after all, the hosts bore responsibility for the joy and safety of their guests.
Shock, alarm, concern.
“I…I’m fine—”
Beneath the rain of piercing gazes, Nina’s body went rigid with a sudden jolt of pain.
“Where should I take her?”
Ash had lifted her into his arms, carefully, as though cradling a princess.
The solid strength of his arms, the heavy weight of his scent—
It was the first time she had ever been held in her husband’s embrace.
An impossible moment she had never dared even to imagine.
…Could this, perhaps, count as a mitigating circumstance?
She could only hope so.
“This way, this way!”
The Duchess of Grenville, pale as death, hurried ahead, and Ash followed with Nina still in his arms.
“You’re all right, aren’t you?
Tell me you’re all right!”
Neville’s frantic muttering rang in her ears, while Allen trailed behind with a stricken face, as though frozen by shock.
It had been so long since she’d felt the weight of such concern from others.
The sensation was strangely unfamiliar, almost bittersweet.
After receiving first aid from the physician,
Nina dismissed everyone from the side chamber, keeping only Neville with her under the pretext of wanting to speak alone with her brother.
Seated on the edge of the bed, she let out a sigh and murmured,
“Thank goodness.
It’s not as bad as I thought.”
“Thank goodness?
You call this thank goodness?”
Neville’s eyes flared sharply.
From the top of her right foot to her ankle and up her calf—
scratches and gouges from the jagged edges of broken crystal covered her skin.
That such scars should mar a lady’s body, and she could still claim it was nothing?
To Neville, it sounded like madness.