Merdi was able to spend a leisurely day for the first time in a while.
With Margaret secluded in her bedroom all day, there was no one to walk on eggshells around.
That one small change was enough to make Merdi feel she could finally breathe a little easier.
“Be in my office tomorrow evening at eight.”
But the memory of his appointment—which felt more like a summons—crashed down on her.
The momentary lightness in her heart evaporated, leaving it as heavy as if it had been soaked in a torrential downpour.
In the end, her trip to Belloc had not secured her an annulment, only saddled her with the responsibility for a mountain of debt.
‘…And one more thing,’ she thought.
The cold reality that she had no one left to rely on.
The mere thought of facing her cruel fiancé—who had known everything and said nothing until she’d made the trip herself—made her stomach churn.
It was not a flutter of anticipation, but a nausea that threatened to rise in her throat.
She could only pray that yesterday’s mockery had been enough to satisfy him.
To steady her queasy stomach, Merdi opened a book, and the sullen lines of her face began to relax.
Books had long been both friends and teachers to Merdi.
They were not just wonderful teachers; everything she craved existed within their pages.
Hope, dreams, love… all the sparkling things so hard to grasp in reality.
That was why Merdi loved reading.
It was also thanks to books that she had learned the Elsmere Imperial language so quickly.
In fact, Merdi could also speak the common language of the Kashel United Republic, her biological father’s homeland.
Her interest had been sparked by a single novel, a keepsake from her late father.
Sterling had given Merdi the keepsakes of her biological father, who had died in a carriage accident.
Among them were several books that appeared to have been written by him, all in the Kashel language, which Merdi couldn’t read at the time.
‘What kind of person was my biological father?’ It was a curiosity that existed separately from the deep love she held for her stepfather, Sterling.
Curiosity led Merdi to learning.
She studied Kashel to read those books and later discovered that her father had known a special dialect within the language.
Among the books he left behind was one on how to read and write it.
Merdi later learned that it was the language of an ethnic minority in the Kashel Republic.
Given the detailed materials, it seemed her father had belonged to that very group.
As a result, Merdi could speak four languages: the Elsmere Imperial language, the Southern Continent Common Language used in the Kingdom of Belloc, Kashel, and the minority language.
But no one cared about her exceptional linguistic talent.
After all, nobles considered translation to be work for commoners or stuffy scholars.
But Merdi disagreed.
‘Translators are in demand these days.’
As business sectors expanded and trade between countries increased, the demand for translation and interpretation naturally grew.
It was a secret, but Merdi had even taken on translation work since arriving here.
She’d told no one, of course; it was the sort of thing that would make Margaret’s face twist into a witch-like scowl if she ever found out.
‘Knock, knock.’
Just as she reached the exact midpoint of the book, a knock sounded at the door.
From the neat, polite rap—so unlike the usual summons—Merdi knew it was Emma with her dinner.
As expected, Emma wheeled in a serving cart.
“What book are you reading so intently?”
“Just a novel.”
Merdi answered vaguely as she closed the book.
Emma didn’t seem particularly interested, setting out the food without another glance at it.
“Since all the Annex maids were dismissed, I brought food made by the chef from the main house.”
Perhaps that was why, for once, the meal looked warm and delicious.
“You should have been eating like this all along…” Emma lamented as she placed the tray on the table.
Merdi saw the apology in her eyes and shook her head.
“No.
It couldn’t be helped.”
Emma had worked here her entire life and was caring for a husband who couldn’t move.
It wouldn’t have been easy for her to do anything that would put her on Margaret’s bad side.
Still, she sometimes told bold lies to Margaret for Merdi’s sake.
Merdi was grateful enough for that alone.
As if sensing her gratitude, Emma lowered her gaze, her eyes moist.
“Will you change into your pajamas after dinner?”
“…No, it’s fine.”
Merdi answered a beat late, her hand hovering over the cutlery.
“Planning a late evening walk?”
“Yes… I was in my room all day, so I thought I’d walk in the garden a bit after dinner.”
Merdi couldn’t bring herself to admit she was going to her fiancé’s office at this hour.
“Even if the Grand Dame is lying low, please don’t stay out too late.
You know she can find fault with anything.”
Merdi laughed at Emma’s quiet jab at her mistress.
“I understand.
I’ll be careful.”
Merdi crept down the dark corridor, moving as carefully as if she were navigating a dangerous back alley.
She arrived at Clifton’s office.
The light was often on in his office late into the night, but tonight, knowing exactly why it burned, Merdi found the glow menacing.
She took a deep, steadying breath and knocked twice on the heavy wooden door.
“Come in.”
Until the very last second, she had clung to the hope that he had forgotten their appointment, or had been called away on urgent business, leaving the light on by mistake.
But without fail, a low voice answered from within.
Like the precise hand of a clock, he was intent on keeping this schedule, though for whose benefit, she couldn’t guess.
Merdi turned the doorknob, trying to calm her pounding heart.
A man of incongruous beauty sat inside.
Bathed in lamplight against the backdrop of a darkened window, Clifton was, as always, perfect.
But her admiration was fleeting.
Tension coiled around her, starting from her toes and winding its way up her body.
He rose from his desk and moved to the couch, and Merdi forced her stiff legs to carry her to the seat opposite him.
She was grateful for the coffee table that created a respectable distance between them, a distance she desperately hoped to maintain.
“Was your trip to Belloc satisfactory?” Clifton asked.
The question made Merdi forget her nerves, and a short, sharp breath escaped her.
“Have you forgotten what you said yesterday?”
He was the one who’d claimed to be worried she’d gone mad from the shock.
His intention in asking such a question now was painfully clear.
A smirk played on Clifton’s lips as he watched her glare.
“I may know the outcome, but hearing it from your own lips is another matter entirely.”
“You’re cruel.”
“It seems you fail to grasp the position you’re in.”
She had taken countless deep breaths before entering, but in his presence, her composure crumbled.
A fresh wave of shame washed over her for that morning’s foolish fantasy—the idea that he might have dismissed the maids for her sake.
Merdi decided it was better to state the conclusion she’d reached on her journey back to Elsmere than to waste any more energy on this draining conversation.
Her dry lips, tightly shut, barely parted.
“I will never be able to repay my brother’s debt.
But I cannot pretend it doesn’t exist.
I intend to do the best I can.”
In truth, the betrayal and hopelessness she felt from her father and brother had filled her with the urge to book passage on a ship to anywhere but Elsmere.
She had wanted to flee, to go somewhere no one knew her.
What had stopped her was the memory of the love she had received from her stepfather as a child.
He had taken so many risks to raise her as his own daughter.
Without him, she might have drifted from one orphanage to another, just as her brother William had said.
In contrast to Merdi’s earnest declaration, Clifton’s demeanor was as dry and detached as a bystander’s.
“And what, precisely, is this ‘best’ you speak of?”
Merdi closed her eyes, forcing out the words that were lodged in her throat.
“…To marry you, Your Grace, as promised.”
At her determined expression, Clifton let out a smirk.
“Surely you don’t think your acceptance of this marriage is worth 300,000 pounds?”
Heat crept up the back of Merdi’s neck.
Her mind went blank, and she struggled to find the words to respond.
“And I will endeavor to be a mistress who brings no shame to Greenfield…”
Clifton leaned forward, bringing his face close to Merdi, who shrank back like a cornered lamb.
“When you retch at the mere touch of my hand?”
The short question was a clear rebuke for her failure to complete the task he had assigned.
Merdi bristled.
It was impossible to find a solution in such a short time.
“This isn’t something I can simply will away…!
If I could have fixed it so quickly, I wouldn’t be suffering like this in the first place.”
“Whether you can control it or not, this is unacceptable if you wish to be a mistress who brings no shame to Greenfield.
You know what people will say about a couple who cannot even hold hands in public.”
Clifton leaned back against the couch, and the oppressive weight of his presence lessened considerably.
“I intend to postpone the wedding to next March.”
Merdi blinked.
‘Postpone the wedding…?’
Just as her defensive posture began to soften at the welcome news, his next words hit her like a splash of ice water.
“But make no mistake—this postponement is not for your benefit.
By then, you will find a way to fix this… retching.”
Any relief Merdi had felt evaporated, her heart clenching painfully.
She had insisted this wasn’t a simple fix, but his calm exterior hid an unyielding obstinance.
“So, from now on, you will come to my office whenever I summon you.
Unless something unforeseen occurs, you will be here every day at this hour.”