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IGF 13
“......Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”
The surge of emotion felt as though it were healing her bruised heart, if only a little. Even a small act of kindness gave Roselyn the strength to endure. When she cleared her throat and thanked her, Ashley waved her hand dismissively, as if it were a bother.
“Hurry up and take it before it gets cold.”
“Yes, I will.”
Roselyn went back up to her room via the servants' stairs. The spring sunlight, growing warmer by the day, leaked through the small window. Placing the tray on the small table by the window, she leaned back against the chair and took a bite of the panini. The juices of the meat and vegetables sandwiched between the bread blended together, stimulating her appetite. Ashley’s food was always excellent. That was likely how she had risen to the position of head chef in a Marquess's household, even in an Empire that was harsh toward women.
As she sat blankly, chewing her food, Roselyn’s gaze drifted out the window. Seeing the lush green grass reminded her of what had happened a few days ago. She felt a sudden wave of self-reproach for her foolish judgment. She had assumed no one ever went there because it was unmanaged, yet two other people had been in that place besides herself.
She had wanted to escape the advances of the male servants and the whispering of the female servants, even if only for a moment, but she had realized only yesterday that being alone was more dangerous in her current situation. A shiver ran down her spine when she thought about what might have happened if the Prince hadn't been there. Naturally, her thoughts drifted to Prince Aiden, the man who had saved her.
She had been too shocked and flustered to notice at the time, but recalling it now, he was a man of such striking beauty that it was breathtaking. As she remembered his silver-grey hair with a blue tint that shimmered coldly in the sunlight, and his golden eyes that shone like polished gold, her ears grew inexplicably hot. Unconsciously, Roselyn raised her hand and turned it this way and that. She remembered how truly large his hand had been when he grasped her hand and pulled her up from where she had collapsed. And his height, which required her to look far up even while standing.
Recalling the relaxed smile he had worn as if responding to her thanks, Roselyn felt the heat rising in her flushed cheeks and hurriedly fanned herself with her hand. To be blushing all alone over someone she had met only once. A sense of self-loathing washed over her, feeling as though she had truly become the wanton woman the rumors described. Roselyn shook her head vigorously and muttered as if brainwashing herself.
“No. He’s practically my savior, so I’m just doing this out of gratitude.”
It must be because she was surprised to see someone so handsome for the first time. She should simply hold onto that gratitude and repay him someday. But would a day ever come when someone in her position could repay a Prince of the Empire? Laughing self-deprecatingly at the absurd thought, Roselyn shook it off and picked up the remaining piece of bread. Today was the day of Cesare's riding lesson, so she had to get ready quickly.
She hurried to finish her meal and put on the apron hanging on the wall. The moment she stood up to return the tray to the kitchen, she heard Cesare's voice calling for her from a distance.
“Roselyn! Come out quickly!”
“Yes, Young Master!”
She set the tray back down and opened the creaking door to find a red-haired little boy stamping his feet in search of her. It was the young Marquess, Cesare, who had turned ten this year. Without preamble, Cesare grabbed the hem of Roselyn's skirt and began to pull.
“We have to go quickly. Montague said he’d teach me swordsmanship if there’s time left!”
“Young Master. The Marquess forbade it, saying it’s too early for swordsmanship.”
She had heard that Cesare had been particularly interested in swordsmanship since he was very young, but the Marquess and Violet felt differently. Since he had to inherit the Marquessate anyway, there was no need for him to become a knight; they believed swordsmanship should only be learned as a matter of general education. However, it seemed that Montague, the knight in charge of Cesare's riding lessons, had given in to the boy's whims again. When she shook her head with a troubled expression, Cesare gave a mischievous giggle.
“Father and my nanny aren't here today, so it's fine. Roselyn will keep it a secret from my sister, right?”
“But......”
Looking at the child gazing up at her with such an earnest expression, she couldn't bring herself to be firm and say no. Sir Montague must have crumbled before this earnest and cute face as well. On the other hand, she felt a great deal of pity for Cesare, who underwent grueling education every day under the guise of inheriting the Marquessate, making it even harder to refuse.
With Lady Rowin, Cesare's aunt and the Emperor's mistress, even taking an interest in the young Marquess's education, the pressure on the child was easy to imagine.
“Just for today, really.”
At her words, which were practically a permission, Cesare stamped his feet in excitement. Roselyn held the boy's small hand tightly so he wouldn't trip and headed toward the garden together. Cesare, expressing his excitement with a strange humming that he had clearly just composed, suddenly seemed to remember something and turned back to Roselyn with an “Ah!”
“But why does Roselyn call me Young Master?”
“Well, because you are the Young Master?”
Roselyn paused, smiling more brightly than usual to hide her sinking mood. Thinking that she wasn't taking his question seriously because of the joking answer, Cesare pouted and shook his head vigorously.
“No, that's not it! You're my sister's friend!”
“Um. Yes.”
“My sister's friends all call me Cesare or Young Lord Russell. 'Young Master' is something only the maids use.”
I'm my sister's friend, so why do you call me that? Grumbling to himself and shaking Roselyn's hand, Cesare suddenly stopped, puffed out his chest, and looked back at her.
“Roselyn, you should call me Cesare too. I'll even specially allow you to speak informally.”
It seemed this was what he had wanted to say all along. Roselyn found it difficult to decide whether she should call Cesare by his name, so she only gave an ambiguous smile. This was because she remembered the stern warning from Karen, the head maid, on her first day at the Marquess's estate.
「Regardless of your status, you must now use formal language with Lady Violet and Young Master Cesare. It is the principle of the Russell house that employees must serve the nobles they attend to with all their heart.」
It meant that as long as she was employed by the Marquess, she had to serve the members of the household as her masters, regardless of her own background. Roselyn had agreed to do so. She was now in an uncertain position, unable to discern for herself whether she was still a noble or not.
Even if she were divorced, she still used the name Roselyn Bluebell, so should she be considered a member of the Bluebell family? Or, since Isaac had taken the title of Count Bluebell, had she, as a divorcee, been stripped of her family status? Nothing was certain.
Though she had to serve her friend as a master overnight, maintaining her pride was a luxury in such a desperate situation. At that time, all Roselyn possessed was enough money for about three or four days of lodging. She had thought about finding a job, but honestly, she was anxious about whether any place would hire a divorced woman from a fallen noble background, and since it was her first time being thrown out into the world, everything was terrifying. Since she couldn't even return to the convent that could have served as a wall for her, she felt as though she had been dropped naked onto the street.
Since Roselyn only offered a silent smile, Cesare, feeling frustrated, thumped his chest and shouted once more.
“Call me Cesare!”
“I'll call you that when it's just the two of us.”
“Why only when it's just the two of us?”
Cesare was accustomed to getting everything he wanted. Feeling that his request wasn't being fully accepted, Cesare stamped his feet and threw a tantrum. Sensing that he might burst into tears and scream at any moment, Roselyn whispered into the child's ear in a soft, soothing tone.
“We're making a secret just for the two of us. How does that sound?”
“A secret? Only we know about it?”
“In exchange, Cesare must also keep it a secret that I call you by your name.”
“So I'm protecting Roselyn's secret?”
“That's right. You'll keep the secret like a brave knight.”
Just as he was passionate about swordsmanship because he wanted to be a knight, Cesare was weak to the word 'protect.' As expected, his eyes sparkled, and he quickly accepted Roselyn's proposal.
“Okay!”
A child was a child. Roselyn let out a small laugh, finding it cute how he could go from throwing a fit to giggling in an instant. As Cesare gazed at her, his face suddenly flushed pink. With a vacant look in his eyes, he unconsciously let his inner thoughts slip out.
“Pretty......”
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