Chapter : 11
Inael dismounted with Ruban’s help and walked with the knights toward the entrance.
As they neared the bowing staff, an elderly man at the front stepped forward a few paces.
With thick white hair neatly combed and gentle features, he exuded a calm, warm aura.
He bent deeply, then straightened, his face filled with both joy and respect toward Ruban.
“Your Grace, Duke, welcome back from your long journey. I’m glad to see you returned safely.”
“It’s been a while, Oliver.”
Ruban exchanged a relaxed smile with the man, who then turned his attention to Inael.
“Good day, Lady Inael. I am Oliver Martin, the butler of Blayer Manor. It is a great pleasure to meet you. I will do my utmost to ensure your stay is comfortable.”
Oliver bowed deeply again, just as he had to Ruban.
Inael, startled that he knew her name, quickly lowered her head in return.
“Hello, I’m Inael. I’m happy to meet you too.”
The staff’s eyes widened in astonishment at the sight.
A woman arriving on the duke’s horse, standing beside him, bowing to the servants—
Some, prone to imagination, pressed their lips together, muting the whispers they’d been on the verge of voicing.
The garden was silent, but the atmosphere was buzzing.
Had I made a mistake?
Just as her fingertips trembled from tension, a warm hand enveloped hers.
Following the large hand that held hers, she lifted her gaze and met Ruban’s eyes, a silent reassurance in his expression.
Instantly, her tension melted away, replaced by a pleasant flutter spreading through her chest.
Whenever their eyes met like this, it felt as if a feather were hidden in his arms, tickling her heart.
Seeing her faint smile, Ruban curved his lips slightly, then used his free hand to tuck her loose hair behind her ear.
“Let’s get inside first; we can take our time with greetings later.”
Inael’s pale cheeks flushed pink, and she nodded.
“Are we having a welcome ceremony for Lady Inael today?”
At a knight’s question, both Ruban and Inael turned their heads.
Despite the grueling journey, the knights seemed quietly eager for the welcome ceremony.
Remembering the brief yet enjoyable welcome at the inn, Inael’s shoulders lifted slightly at the mention of it.
“I’d like that, if Ruban and the knights are okay with it.”
Inael’s excitement contrasted with Ruban’s momentary hesitation.
He worried that she might overexert herself to avoid troubling others—a habit she’d exhibited just the day before at the inn.
He recalled how, upon dismounting, she had collapsed in pain, and only when a groan escaped her lips did he realize that the unfamiliar horseback riding had left bruises all over her body.
Though Ruban and his knights had already traveled at a much slower pace than usual, considering her stamina, he realized he could not judge her by his own standards and had vigilantly monitored her condition throughout the journey.
He worried now that she might be pushing herself just to accommodate the knights’ wishes.
Fortunately, having rested a bit during the trip, she looked healthier than when leaving the inn.
“Let’s rest for a while before deciding.”
“That sounds good. Lady Inael, you must be tired—please get some proper rest.”
“And even if it isn’t today, please rest fully. Don’t overdo it.”
The knights had been just as alarmed when she collapsed, and all agreed strongly.
Inael, feeling slightly dejected at having caused worry despite her efforts to be considerate, noticed Ruban’s soft smile.
He spoke firmly, though gently.
“Your recovery comes before the welcome ceremony.”
“Yes…”
“If you’re not feeling well, tell me immediately.”
“I will.”
“Never endure it in silence.”
“Understood. I’ll definitely tell you.”
Truly, she would.
After receiving this assurance, Ruban turned his gaze to the staff.
The astonished servants, who had been watching in shock, hurriedly averted their eyes.
“Oliver, the letter I sent ahead—everything is prepared, yes?”
“Of course, Your Grace. I will guide you.”
Four days before their arrival, Ruban had sent a letter requesting that a room be prepared for Inael, complete with all necessary items for her stay.
Oliver had checked the sender’s signature multiple times, unable to believe it was from Ruban, but it was undeniably authentic.
At first light, Oliver and the maids meticulously prepared the lady’s room, brimming with anticipation at the prospect that the manor might finally have its lady. They had been eagerly awaiting Ruban’s return more than ever.
Nodding, Ruban dismissed the knights, who rubbed their stiffened limbs from the long journey and dispersed.
“Where are the knights going?”
“To their quarters in the annex. Let’s go.”
He gently led Inael by her small hand, letting her feel secure.
Passing through the grand doors, her eyes wandered again.
The floor was laid with pale gray marble, and a long red carpet stretched from the entrance to the staircase. Chandeliers of sparkling crystal hung from the ceiling, and dozens of lit candles reflected off the crystals, illuminating the hall.
Ruban led her up the central staircase.
At the top, a wide corridor stretched, lined with multiple rooms.
“Lady Inael, this is your room.”
Oliver swung the door open to reveal a luxurious yet cozy space.
The impressively spacious room was furnished with brand-new, high-quality furniture.
What drew Inael’s gaze first, however, was the large window spanning one wall, framing the lush green gardens of Blayer Manor like a painting.
Morning sunlight streamed through, softly lighting the bed draped with a white canopy.
“This will be your room. How do you like it?”
“It’s… it’s so beautiful.”
Inael blinked, feeling a sense of awe.
Am I really awake? Or is this the continuation of a long dream?
Everything she had seen since arriving at Blayer had been dazzlingly magnificent.
“Go on inside.”
Ruban gently nudged her forward and looked at Oliver.
“She seems pleased, Oliver. Thank you for your efforts.”
“You flatter me, Your Grace. And… I apologize for earlier. It was my failure to properly supervise the staff.”
Oliver, still concerned for Inael, lowered his head somberly.
Ruban thought briefly of how she had always bowed without hesitation when receiving help, whether from a stablehand or a dining attendant.
It could be her natural disposition or a habit from a past she couldn’t remember. Ruban leaned toward the former explanation.
Having seen countless women whose speech and manner changed instantly based on the status of a dining partner, he trusted her behavior was genuine.
Even if it were otherwise, Ruban dismissed concerns about her past hardships.
However, he knew that easily lowering herself could have negative effects, so he made a note to remain mindful.
Exhaling softly, he reached a quick conclusion: he would never force her to learn etiquette or correct her behavior if she didn’t wish to.
Turning to Oliver with a firm voice, he commanded:
“Warn the staff so that what happened earlier doesn’t repeat. Under no circumstances should Inael feel uncomfortable.”
“I will instruct all the staff thoroughly, Your Grace.”
“And anyone who speaks carelessly about her will face severe punishment.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Ruban nodded and lightly patted Oliver’s slumped shoulders in encouragement.
As Inael glanced toward the door, Ruban stepped over the threshold and spoke:
“I’m grateful you’re here to keep the house safe whenever I’m away. Thank you, Oliver.”
Perhaps taken aback by the words, Oliver paused, then quickly regained his composure, bowing deeply to the approaching pair with a bright expression.
Quietly closing the door and descending the stairs, he wiped the hot corners of his eyes with the back of his hand.
‘Getting old makes me sentimental…’
Through his slightly blurred vision, the lonely figure of a child hidden behind the grandeur of a duke’s title flickered like a fleeting vision.
