Ranelli was remarkably composed and patient for her age. Though she fidgeted a little while the adults spoke, she waited quietly, never whining or drawing attention to herself.
Only after the butler had shown Ivnia to the separate cottage for staff on the Gelendzik estate, and his departing figure had vanished, did the child tug gently at her mother’s skirt. Ivnia knelt to meet her daughter’s eyes.
“Mama, Mama.”
“Yes, dear?”
“That man, the big, handsome man we met.”
Relieved to relax, Ivnia smiled. Even her daughter saw Arad as handsome.
“He is the Duke.”
“The Duke?”
Ivnia corrected her gently, smiling at the unfamiliar word.
“Duke.”
“Ah… Duke.”
“That’s right. What about him?”
“Does he like you, or does he not?”
Ivnia paused. It was a simple question, yet the way it was asked, those earnest eyes, felt strangely heavy. Even without that, it was hard to answer plainly; telling a child someone disliked her mother would only hurt her. As she hesitated, Ranelli explained further.
“He looked at you like you were a jar of sweets.”
The words left Ivnia speechless. She knew the phrase well, something her own mother often said. When Ranelli would watch other children playing, her grandmother would laugh and say, ‘You look at them like they’re a jar of sweets.’
Ranelli tilted her head, confused.
“If he likes you, why is he unkind? Charles looks at us like we’re sweets too, but he’s always mean, so I don’t want to play with him.”
“Ah… yes…”
Ivnia smiled awkwardly in agreement. Yet she could not imagine what had made Ranelli see Arad that way. He had been cold, arrogant, stern, never warm.
Ivnia had feared the child would be intimidated. Instead she spoke of being looked at ‘like sweets’.
‘She must have misunderstood.’
There was no need to correct her. Ranelli would not see him again anyway. Surely it mattered more to comfort her than to speak harsh truths. Ivnia stroked her hair.
“You know so well how to be a good friend. He may not know how to show kindness yet. But he has let us stay, so deep down, he must be good.”
“Why does he act differently from how he feels?”
“Adults are often shy about showing their true hearts.”
“Why?”
“Because being honest takes courage, and as people grow up, they sometimes lose theirs.”
In truth, Arad was not lacking in courage; he simply had no need to hide his feelings. He stood above everyone and feared nothing. Ivnia spoke gently, weaving a comforting lie.
Ranelli’s eyes went wide.
“But he looked so big and brave!”
“Do you remember the story of the cowardly tiger? Fierce to look at, but afraid inside. Even the biggest, scariest tigers can lack courage. Appearances are not everything.”
Ranelli nodded, understanding. Then she brightened shyly.
“Mama, his eyes were the same pretty green as mine!”
“No. They are golden.”
Ivnia answered sharply, shaken by the slip. Realizing how startled she sounded, she softened.
“Only to you, perhaps. I saw them differently. We shall look again another time.” Quickly she changed the subject. “Now, shall we explore our new home?”
The cottage stood within the estate grounds. The mansion itself was vast, with many buildings, quarters for knights, staff, and others long unused. This one had once been home to an elderly gardener and his wife.
Built originally as a private retreat by a former Duchess, it had been designed for beauty rather than utility. The late Duke had lent it to the gardener while his wife was ill.
‘I wonder how they are.’
Ivnia remembered the plump, warm-hearted woman who had tended the place with such care. It had always felt so welcoming. Now it stood neglected. The garden was overgrown, the porch draped in cobwebs. Furniture was stacked haphazardly within.
‘Empty for years…’ Arad must have sent her here hoping she would recoil and leave.
But Ivnia was resilient, and so was her daughter. Their old home had been far older and far frailer than this.
“It’s lovely, Mama!” Ranelli cried.
“Yes. With care, it will be beautiful again.”
They stepped inside together.
“Look at the ceiling!”
“That is a coffered ceiling, carved woodwork.”
“It glows like gold!”
“Isn’t it wonderful?”
Laughter filled the rooms, warm, happy, and utterly unaware of the master’s displeasure.
❖❖❖
Meanwhile, Arad paced his study, unable to focus. He twisted a ring from his finger and set it down hard.
When the butler knocked and entered, Arad snapped before being spoken to.
“Did she complain? Beg for help outside?”
The butler paused, waiting for the outburst to pass. “It is about Ivnia, Your Grace.”
Arad looked up.
“Is she demanding aid?”
“The head maid wonders how best to employ her.”
Arad’s golden eyes hardened.
“Must I direct every small thing? See that she is kept busy.”
His gaze narrowed. Hatred and longing could look so much alike; his eyes held both.
“She will regret being so proud.”
He wanted her to regret, every moment, every choice, until she could bear it no longer and came to him, humble and desperate, begging for help. In his mind he saw her reaching out. And strangely, the hatred faded, not into triumph, but into quiet relief. He did not realize he was smiling.
“You may go.”
Left alone, he sat motionless, lost in thought.
❖❖❖
The butler withdrew, shaking his head. Young Hampton, son of the former butler, had served Arad only a short while and struggled to read his moods. Arad was guarded, unpredictable, and fiercely private.
‘Is it pride?’ Hampton wondered. Anyone would resent a stranger claiming the family legacy, especially one so magnificent. ‘She is bold, though. To stay and work here…’
He admired her courage, though he would not say so. Rumors had swirled around her seven years ago, yet she had returned with a letter in hand and held her head high.
‘There is more to her than meets the eye.’
He could not know her true reason for staying. Arad, he thought, likely hoped she would tire and leave. Hampton delivered the message to Selby, the head maid.
“His Grace says she shall learn regret.”
“Work her hard until she leaves?”
“It would seem so.”
Selby scoffed. “How dare she, an unworthy woman in our fine house? She may have tricked the late Duke, but while I am here, she shall not stay.”
Night fell. A new day would dawn.