Chapter 62
It was a peaceful afternoon when Hudson’s hand suddenly froze midway through reading the telegram that had just arrived from Callis. For a moment, he thought his eyes were deceiving him.
[Urgent. Please have the Grand Duchess’s personal dressmaker and jeweler prepare a gown, shoes, and matching jewelry, and send them to Florian within a week.
P.S. You’re right about what you’re thinking, Steward. It’s still a secret.
— Callis]
It was the kind of message that made no sense whatsoever. The word urgent seemed out of place. Mentioning the late Grand Duchess was strange enough, and commissioning a gown and jewelry for her was even stranger.
There was only one possible explanation that made any of it make sense.
Hudson slowly lowered his gaze. It wasn’t until he read the postscript that the full meaning hit him—and his hands began to tremble.
The Grand Duchess is alive.
He had to force strength into his legs to keep from collapsing right there in the middle of the palace hallway, where far too many eyes were watching.
After a deep breath, the initial shock began to subside, and clarity returned. The request for custom attire within a week could mean only one thing—Her Grace intended to wear them at the opening party ten days later.
And since Callis, who was still confined to the resort, had sent this telegram himself…
It could only mean that Her Grace was with His Grace at the resort—right now.
Hudson’s eyes flickered with a storm of emotions before settling into calm. He straightened his posture, regaining his usual composure. A proper servant never pried into the affairs of those he served.
He took another breath and hurried off to send telegrams to the Grand Duchess’s former dressmaker and jeweler, the ones who had handled her wardrobe years ago.
Though—
“…Has anyone ever seen the steward smile like that?”
“…What do you mean? The steward’s smiling?”
“I don’t know. Look over there.”
The corners of his mouth and his lifted cheeks—those were things even the most disciplined butler couldn’t hide.
***
Dante scribbled the final signature on the last document, bringing his work to a close.
“Where are you going, Your Grace?”
Callis, busy writing a report, blinked in confusion as Dante suddenly rose from his seat. Was he going to see the Grand Duchess? Of course not. The Duke of Venachert, who practically lived for his work, would never do such a thing… or so Callis thought.
But then Dante, adjusting his jacket before the office mirror, replied casually,
“Clear the resort for the next few hours.”
“…Pardon? You want me to clear it? All of it? Suddenly?”
Callis froze mid-step, startled by the unexpected order.
“Yes.”
“…May I ask why?”
The question slipped out without thinking. He wasn’t trying to challenge his lord—it was simple bewilderment.
Dante merely adjusted his cufflinks, his tone calm and matter-of-fact.
“I promised to show her around.”
“…What?”
As usual, the Duke gave nothing more than a curt answer before leaving the office.
Left alone with the paperwork, Callis exhaled deeply, removing his glasses.
“Haa…”
He rubbed his face in disbelief. He had never once seen such an expression in the palace before.
A cheerful Duke of Venachert—it was something he could hardly believe even after seeing it with his own eyes.
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
***
After sharing a late lunch together, he really did keep his promise and stepped out. Technically, since the entire resort was his, saying he “left” was a bit of a stretch—but still, Riena found herself with rare solitude.
Bathed in the warm afternoon light streaming through the windows, she finally let herself relax. She even dozed off unexpectedly, and when she awoke about an hour later, she rose feeling refreshed and went to take a bath.
The cascade of warm water washed away the fatigue and restless thoughts that had built up over time. So much had happened lately, all at once.
At some point, Riena stopped thinking altogether. She was simply tired. Overanalyzing it wouldn’t change a thing.
She hadn’t tried to label the complicated emotions between her and Dante for a reason—because acknowledging them meant she’d have to face them.
And when that moment came, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.
So pretending not to notice was easier.
When Riena stepped out of the bathroom, draped in a soft robe—
“Done bathing?”
She froze.
Dante was sitting casually on the edge of the bed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“H-how could you just… come in like that!”
He raised a brow, clearly not understanding why she was so flustered.
“We’ve been together all this time. It’s not like I walked in while you were showering. And you’re not even naked, so why are you so startled?”
His composure was so absolute that Riena began to doubt herself instead.
Dante tilted his head slightly.
“Isn’t it a bit late to start pretending to be shy? You keep forgetting—it was me who took care of you when you were sick, Riena.”
I’ve already seen everything, his faint smile seemed to say.
“P-please stop bringing that up…”
Her face burned as she covered it with both hands. He was utterly shameless.
Leaning lazily against the bedpost, Dante’s gaze swept over her.
Truth be told, even he couldn’t quite understand her logic. Standing before him in nothing but a robe was fine, yet a few words embarrassed her?
Watching droplets of water fall from her damp hair, he straightened and moved toward her. Riena stiffened but he ignored it, stepping into the steamy bathroom she’d just vacated. He returned with another towel and placed it over her head.
Before she could react, his hand gently pressed down, keeping her still.
“Didn’t realize you were asking to be taken care of again.”
His languid voice drifted above her. Then came the feel of his hands gently rubbing the towel against her hair.
“I-I can do it myself—”
“Just stay still.”
Riena bit her lip, feeling absurdly like a puppy being petted by its master. Honestly, it was less embarrassing when he made inappropriate comments.
That this cold, untouchable man was now drying her hair—it was surreal.
“…You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
She spoke suddenly, half out of jealousy, half to cover her fluster. His hands paused.
Before she could pull away completely, she snatched the towel and stepped back, glaring up at him.
Dante’s lips twitched in amusement at her childishness.
“You’ve fed someone, dried someone’s hair… Where did you even learn this?”
Her tone was petulant, like a sulking child.
“Are you… jealous?” he asked, his voice soft, teasing.
“It’s not jealousy! I just… you never act like this.”
“Do you dislike it?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, searching hers.
Riena fidgeted with her robe tie, unable to meet his gaze or speak. After a beat, Dante turned his head away.
“Then put on some clothes.”
“…What?”
Only then did she remember what she was wearing—or rather, what she wasn’t.
Oh no…!
She went red from head to toe.
“I-I’ll change! Just—go, please!”
Her flustered voice echoed through the room, but Dante didn’t move right away. She finally had to shove at his back with both hands to get him out the door.
He let himself be pushed easily, smiling faintly all the while.
When the door shut firmly behind him, he chuckled quietly to himself, a rare hint of amusement playing at his lips.
