Startled, Ivnia sprang to her feet, old habits taking hold before she could stop herself. She moved so quickly that Ranelli, perched on her lap, was jolted and clung tightly to her neck.
Ivnia set her down gently and drew the small figure close, tucking her beneath her skirt as if to hide her.
“Young Master.”
Her face tense with anxiety, she did not dare lift her eyes to meet his. Only then did she remember, he was no longer Young Master, but His Grace.
Fortunately, he did not seem inclined to seize on the slip.
“Seven years, is it.”
Heavy footsteps drew near without hesitation. Ivnia’s downcast gaze saw Arad Gelendzik’s boots, immaculate, not a speck of dust upon them.
The toes pointed straight toward her. She saw from the corner of her eye that he had folded his arms. For a long moment he looked down at the crown of her head in silence, then spoke in an arrogant, commanding tone befitting his station.
“Lift your head, Ivnia. The butler tells me you presume to strike a bargain. It would be less amusing if you groveled from the start.”
“…….”
Ivnia obeyed, yet her eyes remained fixed on the floor. Her refusal to meet his gaze drew a strange look from him; he stared down at her, then gritted his teeth.
She did not need to see him to know he was looking at her as though he might devour her whole, his gaze burned with that intensity.
Anger, she thought.
Anger that she had not obeyed his cruel command, that proposal to rid herself of the child, and in return he would take her back.
This was him, her cruel former lover, the man who had shown her the sweetest, most dazzling love only to crush it without mercy. Ranelli’s own father.
‘I had hoped he would forget me entirely.’
She knew her stubbornness had roused his anger, yet she swallowed hard and kept her eyes closed. Her heart felt ready to burst the moment she heard his voice. She was not yet strong enough to face him.
“Still as stubborn as ever.”
He murmured the words low, yet his tone had lost some of its sharpness, strangely so.
Before she could wonder at it, he noticed Ranelli peeking out from beneath her skirt, and his interest stirred.
“This little one… what is this creature who looks so like you, shrunk down small?”
He chose his words slowly, as though struggling to accept that such a tiny being could be human.
Ivnia answered in a steady, flat voice.
“She is my daughter.”
She pulled the child closer, trying to shield her, yet Ranelli’s curious little head kept popping into view.
“Daughter?”
He rolled the word slowly on his tongue, his tone growing sharp.
Then he knelt before her, and Ivnia, looking down, found herself face to face with him, the very face she had dreaded seeing.
For a moment she swayed. Facing him again, as breathtakingly handsome as ever, old memories came flooding like a storm tide.
She could have wept.
His rich auburn hair worn a little longer now, his noble forehead, the strong dark brows she had so admired above deep, intense eyes, his fine straight nose, and delicate lips perfectly shaped, all exactly as she remembered, clear as if she might trace them with her hands.
Thankfully, he was watching Ranelli and did not see the fleeting changes crossing Ivnia’s face.
He looked at Ranelli, his golden eyes bright with mischief untinged by malice, like a great red lion regarding a tiny rabbit.
“You say you are Ivnia’s daughter?”
Ranelli rolled her great eyes back and forth between them, then nodded.
“Yes. She is my mother.”
Ivnia swallowed hard. She wondered if either had noticed, their eyes were as like as two mirrors. All her time telling herself, convincing herself, that Ranelli’s eyes were soft green meant nothing; the girl had inherited her father’s mysterious golden eyes.
Biting her lip, Ivnia answered a little too quickly when he asked, as she had known he would:
“She turned six this year.”
The question came swiftly on the heels of her hasty reply.
“And where is her father?”
Was he already suspecting the child might be his, even with her lie about the age?
She thought back to what she had done, faking a miscarriage with the midwife’s help. Yes. The midwife had taken pity on her pleas.
The day she fled, she had sent Arad a bundle wrapped in bloodstained cloth, meant to look like a lost infant.
Ivnia’s hands trembled at the memory.
“……Her father passed away some years ago. There is no one else to care for her. She is a quiet child and will cause no disturbance.”
She added the extra details deliberately, hoping he would not see through her lies. To her relief, he seemed entirely caught up in what she had said.
“Dead, you say. I see.”
When he sat down, Ivnia sat beside him on the sofa. Then she heard it, a faint creak, as though something had snapped. Following the sound, she looked at his hand resting on the armrest, and his voice held her fast.
“So you are alone now?”
Recalling she need not answer every question, Ivnia found the courage to meet his gaze. Their eyes locked.
‘His eyes are so clear.’
They were strong, steady, no sign of the madness spoken of. Those afflicted were said to show it by his age, twenty-five; few lived past thirty before it consumed them.
‘He has been treated. Cured.’
Hope rose in her chest. If he had found a way, so might Ranelli.
Arad watched her, every small movement of hers caught in his gaze. He took a cigar from his pocket, his eyes never leaving her. He crossed his legs, lit the cigar as he always did, then noticed Ranelli watching him, wide-eyed and curious.
His hand paused.
He frowned and put the cigar away.
“All the same, bold of you to come and claim my inheritance without a witness.”
His tone was cutting, yet not unkind.
‘He is confident no one can take it from him.’
Ivnia could not blame him; the late Duke’s bequest was absurd on its face.
A maid, a disgraced, runaway maid, named as heir? From his perspective it must seem impossible.
She had no power to fight him. Only the letter, signed and sealed. She was not even certain it was legally binding.
She had to speak before resentment hardened further.
“I know how impossible this appears.”
“Yet you have come. There must be a reason. And you would not have summoned me if it were a trivial one.”
Under the weight of his gaze, Ivnia swallowed hard and laid the letter on her lap. She felt foolish, like someone holding a worthless hostage.
Her mind kept replaying his words: ‘get rid of it’. The coldness in his face. She felt crushed by the weight of it all.
‘Could I ever hope for kindness from him?’
She did not know. But for Ranelli’s sake, she had to try.
“If you would grant me one small favor, I promise never to trouble you about the inheritance again.”
“A favor?”
“I do not want the estate. Only let me work here as a maid.”
He frowned. “Is that truly why you have returned?”
“Is there… any other reason?”
He did not seem to believe her.
‘Of course not.’
She lowered her head further.
“It is so hard, raising her alone. I beg you, let us stay. I will do anything.”
The more she pleaded, the deeper his frown grew.
“Are you foolish? I would have thought… the child is…”
He looked at Ranelli, bit back the words, and set his jaw.
Ivnia heard anger in his voice. She did not see the sorrow deep in his eyes.
He turned sharply and clicked his tongue.
“To be so short-sighted.”
“Think what you will of me. I know my place. I will accept half wages, anything.”
She would have worked for nothing, if only they might stay. All she needed was to learn how he had been cured.
The late Duke had spared no expense, no method. He was known as an eccentric, a sorcerer, yet Ivnia knew how desperately he had sought the answer.
‘I saw him hide his research somewhere.’
She had once worked as his assistant, trusted with secrets. She knew roughly where the records were kept. If she could stay, she would find them.
“I beg you, have mercy.”
He folded his arms, looking weary.
“Must you humiliate yourself so? Is this why you left? I thought if you returned you would be bolder, at least try to make some claim on the past.”
Ivnia grew anxious. She had not expected him to speak of it. She had assumed he would forget a maid’s fleeting romance.
Young masters dally with servant girls; it is the girl who is cast out. Men of power do not take responsibility.
Had it not been so with her? He had been cold, cruelly so, when she told him she carried his child.
His mentioning it frightened her. She hoped he would not mock her, not before Ranelli.
“I ask only that we act as though nothing happened, as you wished. Believe me. I have put it all behind me.”
“……Do you truly mean that?”
He laughed bitterly.
Ivnia nodded, earnest in her hope that he might see her sincerity.
He looked at her with scorn, then rose as though there was nothing more to say.
He called loudly for the butler.
“Give this foolish woman work. Let her stay in the abandoned west wing.”
Then, too low for anyone to hear, he murmured:
“Someday you will come back to me in tears.”