LPST 15

Chapter : 15

“After finishing the flesh on top, you should remove the bones and then eat the flesh underneath. If you flip the fish over like you just did, the nobles will stare at you with wide eyes. Some noblewoman might even drop her knife in shock.”

Windsor couldn’t shake the suspicion that she was thoroughly enjoying this moment. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to lecture him nonstop without even pausing for breath.

Still, he didn’t voice that thought aloud. He knew full well that asking her would only earn him a flat denial.

He flipped the fish back over once, then carefully removed the bones with delicate precision.

“The reason we don’t flip the fish is because it looks messy.”

He already knew this reason.

Jacqueline looked at him with a confident expression. Though Windsor’s gaze seemed to briefly pierce her cheek, she didn’t care in the slightest.

“You shouldn’t focus on your meal too intently, no matter how delicious the food may be. Occasionally, you must set your fork and knife down on your plate and converse with the person beside you. Otherwise, by the end of the meal, rumors will spread that Lord Preston has an insatiable appetite.”

Windsor’s brow furrowed slightly. When he’d first joined the navy, he couldn’t honestly say he’d adapted easily—not even superficially.

It was the military: a place teeming with discipline and rules, rivaling even a prison. A single person’s negligence could lead directly to a comrade’s death.

Everyone had to strictly follow the established rules. There were no exceptions.

But noble etiquette was different. No one would die just because your knife pointed the wrong way, nor would the ship sink simply because you flipped a fish.

As Jacqueline had said, it was unnecessarily complex and burdensome etiquette. Yet, failing to observe it would inevitably push him beyond an invisible boundary.

Etiquette served as a tool to strengthen their unity—a rope binding together the entire noble class.

And Windsor, who had abruptly entered high society, needed to break through that invisible wall and step inside. That was both his role and duty as Marquess of Preston.

Clack.

Windsor set his fork and knife down on the plate and turned his gaze toward her.

“Truly, it’s pointlessly complicated and bothersome etiquette.”

Hearing the complaint in his tone, Jacqueline realized this was the perfect moment to offer a carrot instead of another lash.

Constant whipping would only exhaust a galloping horse further—perhaps even provoke it into bucking off its rider altogether.

“But you’re actually doing quite well, better than you think. Since your table manners are naturally neat, you’ll just need to memorize a few bothersome rules, and soon you’ll be dining comfortably alongside others. Of course, no one will ever gossip about Lord Preston’s dining etiquette. Truthfully, even among nobles, not everyone memorizes all these rules.”

“Then may I finish the rest of my meal, Miss Somerset?”

“Of course, Lord Preston.”

Jacqueline nodded. At her permission, Windsor picked up his fork and knife once more.

The sight reminded her so much of Benjamin that Jacqueline had to swallow another laugh threatening to escape. Stern as he was, Windsor somehow seemed rather endearing.

“Oh, by the way, Lord Preston—you don’t spread butter on bread during lunch or dinner.”

Not that she intended to treat him as gently as she did Benjamin, of course.

She fixed him with the strict gaze of a governess.

“Hah.”

Windsor couldn’t help but let out a faint chuckle. Muttering under his breath with an indifferent expression, he said,

“I fail to understand why they’d place butter on the table if it’s forbidden to use it.”

Nevertheless, he quietly set down the butter knife and brought the plain bread to his mouth. His brow remained deeply furrowed, but he was a man of strong patience.

Jacqueline found the situation delightfully amusing. Though Windsor wore a displeased expression, he faithfully followed her instructions—and she didn’t dislike a diligent student.

“You may not spread butter on bread, but if there’s no butter on the table, guests will talk behind your back.”

At that, Windsor’s frown deepened further. He shot her a look of utter bewilderment.

“Don’t they consider that wasteful?”

“That’s exactly what I told you earlier—it’s unnecessarily complex and bothersome etiquette.”

“But if you don’t follow it, you’ll be mocked?”

“Precisely. In that world, there are far more things you can’t do than things you can.”

Jacqueline nodded in agreement. Though Windsor raised an eyebrow slightly, his table manners remained impeccably neat.

“It’s the same at the boarding school Benjamin will enter next year. There, too, there are far more restrictions than freedoms. So wouldn’t it be nice if there were just a few more things you *could* do here, Lord Preston? After all, this is Benjamin’s home. Of course, that is—if you’re willing to respect my authority as your governess.”

Windsor looked at her silently, as if caught off guard.

Jacqueline met his gaze with a quiet smile. Beneath the candlelight, Windsor’s blond hair glowed faintly orange, and his thoughtful gray eyes sank into depths impossible to fathom.

Just as Jacqueline’s attention began to drift toward his devilishly handsome features, Windsor finally nodded. His gesture helped her snap her wandering focus back into place.

“Do as you please. But never, under any circumstances, forget that Benjamin is the future Marquess of Preston.”

“I won’t. Thank you, Lord Preston.”

She smiled with eyes rounded sweetly—a smile so lovely it hinted at her cherished childhood.

Windsor was certain she’d been raised surrounded by affection. Yet no matter how deeply loved she’d been, she was someone who would soon leave Preston Manor.

After all, not a single person had ever resisted the King’s enticement.

She, too, would soon become the King’s agent. And Windsor wasn’t generous enough to hire a thread belonging to his enemy.

“When you’ve finished your meal, simply place your fork and knife beside your plate.”

Windsor slowly lifted his eyes. Jacqueline, meeting his gaze, tilted her head slightly as if asking, “Is something wrong?”

He carefully set his fork and knife down beside the plate, then dabbed the corner of his mouth with the napkin resting on his lap.

“Ah—but you’re supposed to use the *back* of the napkin, not the front, Lord Preston.”

He froze.

Windsor halted mid-motion, still holding the napkin to his lips.

“Of course, I’m sure you already know how to use a napkin properly.”

He let out an involuntary chuckle. Once he dismissed her, he might actually feel a twinge of regret—governesses this ruthlessly honest were hard to come by.

“Oh, by the way.”

As if suddenly remembering something, Jacqueline began again. Windsor, who had just placed his napkin on the table, turned his attention back to her.

“Is there anything else I should be more careful about?”

“No, you’re doing wonderfully. But have you already chosen Benjamin’s birthday gift?”

Windsor fell briefly silent. Sometimes their conversation veered unpredictably—like corn kernels popping in hot oil.

“Yes, I’ve chosen it.”

“If it’s not too impertinent—may I ask what the gift is?”

After taking a sip of water, Windsor replied casually,

“The complete collected works of the kingdom’s history.”

“Ah, I see…”

Jacqueline’s expression fell, as if she’d expected exactly that. Glancing up cautiously, she asked,

“Might I ask what you gave him for his birthday last year?”

“The complete collection of continental myths. Both the myths of the continent and the kingdom’s history are considered essential reading before entering boarding school. It’s the most suitable gift for Benjamin.”

“Ah, I see…”

Her disappointment deepened. But then she straightened her posture and spoke in a firm tone,

“As your governess, Lord Preston—”

Windsor watched her silently, wondering what unexpected words would come out of her mouth next.

Surely, she’d pop up somewhere utterly unforeseen—like popcorn—and if he let his guard down, she might just hit him square in the forehead.

“May I help you choose his birthday gift?”

Windsor narrowed his eyes slightly. He glanced upward into empty space, replaying their recent exchange in his mind, then looked back at Jacqueline.

“I already told you I’ve chosen a gift. Was there something in our conversation that led you to misunderstand, Miss Somerset?”

“Not at all. I simply wanted to recommend a gift that would delight Benjamin even more than the kingdom’s history books. Purely out of goodwill.”

Windsor fell silent for a moment, thinking of his quiet nephew. A hint of suspicion crept into his voice.

“Has Benjamin asked you for something?”

Even as he asked, he thought it highly unlikely. His young nephew never made demands or showed greed.

Taken aback by the unexpected question, Jacqueline’s eyes widened. She quickly shook her head.

“No, of course not. Benjamin would never do such a thing. I’ve never seen a child as polite and courteous as he is.”

Yes—that was easier to understand. Windsor slowly nodded.

Watching him, Jacqueline hastily added, as if in apology,

“After all, a gift should bring joy to the one receiving it. Your gift—though I fully understand your thoughtful intentions toward Benjamin—”

She paused for breath, then bit her lip and fixed him with a challenging look.

“—is what *you*, Lord Preston, want to give, not what Benjamin truly wants.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Can’t you just tell by looking?”

Her eyes silently pleaded for his agreement—as if to say, “Don’t you feel the same, Lord Preston?” Yet Windsor refused to nod so easily.

Jacqueline let out a short sigh. “Hmm…” She carefully chose her words, clearly unsure how to explain.

“Benjamin isn’t talkative, but if you watch quietly, you can tell—when his eyes light up, when his porcelain-white cheeks flush, when a faint smile tugs at the corners of his tightly pressed lips.”

If you just watch quietly, you understand.

Windsor thought that sounded utterly irrational. Perception varied too greatly depending on who was doing the observing.

When he sat expressionlessly, lost in thought, Roman would ask if something upset him, William would ask if he was unwell,

and Benjamin would quietly apologize.

Seeing that Windsor wouldn’t readily agree, Jacqueline’s brow furrowed faintly. In the end, he rose from his seat without saying another word.

Jacqueline swallowed a sigh, her disappointment clear.