For a time, Arlen remained a recluse in the Sermont estate.
She wasn’t heeding Regina’s advice to lie low because of the gossip, but rather out of fear that she might bring harm to the Duke.
But as the days passed, thoughts of him ambushed her at every turn, making it impossible to concentrate.
‘He must have had his arm treated properly.
But what if my first aid was clumsy?
What if I made the injury worse?’
A litany of worries marched through her mind, but she had no excuse to see him.
If she went to the Crawford estate, the reporters would swarm again, and she might provoke the Queen’s wrath.
Days bled into one another, each spent worrying in the confines of her room.
Then one afternoon, Betty, who was attending to her, hesitated before stealthily handing her something.
Arlen’s gaze fell from the crisp, sharp-cornered envelope to Betty’s face.
“What is this?”
“A man gave it to me when I was on Opal Street buying groceries,” Betty explained, her voice low.
“He said you’d know who it was from.
He also said that if you were interested, he would have a carriage waiting at the back gate at midnight.”
“Who wants to see me?”
“He wouldn’t say.
When I asked, he was so evasive… it seemed awfully suspicious.
I wasn’t going to give it to you, in case he was a reporter, but then I worried it might be Baron Carriott again, like last time.”
Though she felt she had to deliver it, Betty was clearly wary.
Arlen took a letter opener and slit the envelope, which bore no sender’s name.
The red wax seal cracked.
The stationery she pulled out was of the highest quality, and as she unfolded the paper, she thought she could detect the faint scent of flowers.
Her hand paused.
‘Unless you have grown fond of it, I would have my coat returned.’
A tremor ran through her.
‘The coat.’ The note, penned in an elegant script, was a single sentence, but Arlen knew instantly who had sent it.
Even the precise handwriting seemed a reflection of the man himself.
A rosy blush bloomed on her cheeks as she read the words again and again.
“Betty, where is his coat?
The one I brought back?”
“I had it laundered and put it away safely.
Surely it’s not…”
Realization dawned, and Betty’s eyes widened.
Arlen smiled shyly, pressing the precious note to her chest.
A giddy thrill fluttered in her heart.
She had a reason to see him.
That night, Arlen dismissed her maids, pretending to retire early.
When the time came, she slipped a dark, hooded robe over her dress.
Careful not to be seen, she eased through the half-open door and moved like a shadow down the dark corridor.
It took less than five minutes to slip out the servants’ side door and climb into the waiting carriage.
The moment she was seated, the coachman set the carriage in motion without a word, asking for no destination.
They passed silently through the nocturnal streets of Edel.
Her heart hammered against her ribs with the thrill of the secret excursion.
The city was cloaked in a deep silence, its lights burning brighter than ever against the darkness.
Whenever the carriage passed through a district still awake, she flinched at the noise filtering through the doors and pulled the hood of her robe lower.
After a long ride, the carriage halted at the entrance to Moch Bridge.
“We’ve arrived, Miss.”
Arlen stepped out of the carriage and surveyed the quiet surroundings before turning her gaze to the bridge itself.
The road, devoid of carriages or pedestrians, had the surreal quality of a dream.
Hazy, round pools of light from the gas lamps patterned the ground.
She followed the chain of circles leading to the other side and soon spotted a lone figure standing in the middle of the bridge.
‘It’s him.’
Recognizing the man who seemed to outshine the very stars, Arlen’s pace quickened.
The dim rays of the streetlamps were her only guide through the low-lying fog.
A cool night wind swept across the thoroughfare, ruffling her hair, but she felt no chill.
Her body was flushed with a fervent heat that matched the pounding of her heart, a singular desire to reach him.
The pace she had built in that feverish warmth slowed as she drew near, the moment she saw the profile of his face, cast in the vermilion glow of the lamps.
“Miss, do you like the Duke?” The unanswered question echoed in her mind.
Just then, the man who had been gazing down at the dark river slowly turned toward her.
He lifted his head.
Their eyes met.
There they were—those cool, arresting eyes that had invaded her thoughts and turned them upside down.
‘Ah.’ She had finally found her answer.
On the tranquil bridge, under the quiet night, they stood facing each other.
He was dressed in a suit, leaning casually against the railing.
Unaware of how fast she had been walking, Arlen only realized she was breathless when she finally stood before Liam Crawford.
“I apologize for making you come all this way.”
His pleasant, mellow voice flowed over her.
Pleased by his gentle tone, she lifted her head to see his finely drawn, arched eyebrows curve softly.
His presence outshone all the glittering lights of the city.
With his blond hair catching the moonlight and his eyes fixed upon her, he was like a figure from a beautiful painting.
The intimate glance he gave her was so stunning that Arlen forgot her manners and simply stared.
“Miss Sermont.”
“Uh, hello, Duke Crawford,” she said, startled as if from a dream, finally remembering her purpose.
“How are you feeling?”
“As you can see.” He lightly held up his arm, wrapped in a white bandage.
“My physician has nagged me into submission.
I’m not to even think about work for a month and just stay home.”
His well-shaped lips curved into a handsome smile.
Seeing him after several days, she was relieved to find his complexion healthier than she had feared, and his injury seemed less severe than she had worried.
The only problem was that, now face-to-face with him, her tongue felt tied.
She chided herself for her lack of decorum, but perhaps it was the fresh awareness of her feelings that made her falter.
Even the most basic conversation, which she had managed countless times before, now felt impossible.
The tip of the Duke’s eyebrow lifted.
“For someone who went to the trouble of coming to see me, you look rather uncomfortable.”
“It’s not that…” As her heartbeat grew louder in the quiet night, her voice, in contrast, grew smaller.
“I wanted to see you.”
“And why is that?”
Blinking at the sincerity that had escaped her, Arlen belatedly offered him the box she held.
“To return this.”
As she handed over the coat, he took it, his lips pulling into a soft smile.
“And… I felt uneasy, since you were hurt because of me.”
“Don’t give it a second thought.
I’m simply relieved that you are safe.”
Normally, she would have accepted his answer and moved on, but today was different.
“Why is my safety a relief to you, Duke?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he’d received an unexpected question.
“I’m scheduled to go to Dristan on business soon.”
Instead of the answer she’d hoped for, his words made her look up sharply.
“Dristan?
The duchy at the edge of the continent?
You’re going that far?”
“It would seem so.”
“But you just said your physician told you not to work for a month…”
“I plan to leave as soon as possible,” he said, cutting her off, a clear signal that he would offer no further explanation.
Her gaze fell painfully on his arm, encased in its white cast.
“Therefore, I will unfortunately be unable to attend the wedding.
I hope you’ll understand.”
“What?”
The abrupt change of subject made her violet eyes waver.
Why was he bringing that up now?
It didn’t take her long to find the answer.
“It’s… because of me, isn’t it?”
He had seen the articles.
The papers had exaggerated their meeting, painting him as the man having a secret affair with the future crown princess.
They had gone a step further, spreading groundless rumors that the royal family and the Crawfords might become enemies.
And now he had to travel such a long way, his injury not yet healed.
“For the time being, it’s best that I’m away.
If I’m continually seen by your side, the future Crown Princess…”
“That’s not true!” she blurted out.
“You are far more than I deserve, Duke.”
Her lips, which had opened so hastily, pressed firmly shut.
She had no fond feelings for the Crown Prince; she was merely flustered because she had always assumed she would be his wife.
But this…
Her mind went blank.
Arlen barely managed to speak.
“Will you… be gone long?”
“If I stay for the groundbreaking ceremony for the new railway connecting the western peninsula… about three years.”