LPST 13

Chapter : 13

“Yes.”

Jacqueline slowly rose, gave a slight curtsy, and turned her back. Her steps were quicker than usual.

She wanted to flee this desolate space as soon as possible. She longed to find Colin in an empty room and pour out all her complaints. And, very likely, those complaints would inevitably turn into slander about Windsor.

As she hurriedly turned the doorknob, a sharp clink reached her ears. Windsor was probably sipping his tea. Yet the sound was louder than she had expected.

“?”

Jacqueline stepped out of the room, wondering if he—who had seemed so composed—had actually been far angrier than she realized.

Suddenly, she halted mid-step. In an instant, a flash of realization shot through her mind.

Could it be…?

“!”

She whipped her head around and stared fixedly at the firmly closed door.

The reason Windsor never shared meals with her, never danced with ladies at banquets, and never attended gentlemen’s social gatherings…

Her mind raced. Separate puzzle pieces, each uniquely shaped, gradually slid into place until they formed one complete picture.

“Surely… it couldn’t be that?”

Her eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence. But the next moment, she let out a quiet sigh. A sympathetic murmur escaped her lips.

“Indeed, there’s no one in this world without worries.”

Everyone carried their own burdens and anxieties in their respective places. Madam Ritz had feared Jacqueline might challenge her power; Benjamin worried he couldn’t meet his uncle’s expectations.

Jacqueline had fretted over poverty—a hardship she’d never known before—and Windsor…

“If only I’d known sooner, I’d have secretly set aside a bit of my fortune. It’s certainly no easy thing to live off someone else’s money.”

Lazy afternoon sunlight fell upon her shoulders as she walked gracefully down the hallway, making no sound with her steps.

On the first floor, preparations for the banquet were still in full swing, occasionally sparking minor commotions. The unusual bustle drifting through the mansion—normally so quiet—now felt strangely peaceful.

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Windsor headed to the dining room later than usual. Ever since becoming a soldier, he’d adhered strictly to a fixed schedule with not a moment’s deviation.

Dinner was supposed to be at seven, but recently, mealtime had been delayed by about an hour. There was no denying that this change was due to Jacqueline, the new presence in the Preston household.

As a governess—and formerly the daughter of an earl—it was customary for her to dine with the Preston family, not the servants.

The issue, however, did not lie with her, but with Windsor Preston himself.

“Let’s go in.”

William, walking ahead of him, opened the dining room door.

Windsor, who had been walking indifferently, suddenly stopped in his tracks. William, glancing curiously over his shoulder, raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Miss Somerset…?”

Confused, William called out to Jacqueline. Why was she here?

She turned her head slowly and met Windsor’s gaze. Beneath the orange glow of candlelight, her eyes shimmered a deeper green than usual.

“William, would you mind stepping out for a moment? I have something important to discuss with Lord Preston.”

“…Yes, of course.”

After a brief glance at Windsor, William closed the door and left. Windsor remained standing, casting an indifferent look toward Jacqueline.

“Haven’t you finished dinner yet? In that case, I’ll eat later.”

“When? Tomorrow morning?”

Despite Jacqueline’s teasing reminder of the late hour, Windsor replied with a blank expression.

Just as she’d expected. Ever since meeting Benjamin, she’d realized the Prestons weren’t exactly familiar with humor.

“Do you happen to know the rumors circulating about you, Lord Preston? That you’re just as famous as this ‘impoverished noble lady’—me.”

Instead of answering, Windsor only gave her a silent, steady look. Jacqueline smiled faintly and gestured to the chair opposite her.

“This might take a while. Would you mind sitting down? My neck’s starting to ache from looking up at you, Lord Preston.”

Windsor walked over with his usual stoic expression and sat across from her.

At that sight, Jacqueline quietly tugged at the corner of her lips. She saw in him the same earnestness Benjamin had shown while dutifully guiding her through the mansion.

The boy had been quiet, yet never ignored her requests. Windsor, too, was reserved—but he hadn’t dismissed her either.

Just as she hadn’t disliked Benjamin, Jacqueline found she didn’t dislike Windsor Preston either. He wasn’t the arrogant man the rumors made him out to be.

If he truly were that conceited, he wouldn’t have carried her tray for her in the middle of the night.

She now held a perfectly assembled puzzle—and it would become her trump card.

“What is it you wish to say?”

Windsor broke the silence first. Jacqueline opened her mouth, speaking in a tone neither overly serious nor too casual.

“The reason you don’t dance with young ladies, don’t attend social gatherings, don’t share meals with me, and don’t drink tea in front of me…”

Suddenly, Windsor’s expression hardened. A faint wariness flickered in his steel-gray eyes.

Certain now that her suspicion was correct, Jacqueline strengthened her voice.

“Would it be too presumptuous of me to say I understand why?”

He said nothing—only pinned her with a sharp, assessing gaze, as if trying to read her thoughts.

Yet Jacqueline kept her calm smile despite his piercing stare. The hand she held was too strong to back down now.

This was a game she absolutely could not afford to lose.

All in.

“If I say I can help you, Lord Preston, would that also be too presumptuous?”

“What reason do you have in mind, Miss Somerset? Tell me that first. We can negotiate afterward.”

Windsor asked bluntly. His face, usually impassive, seemed even more rigid than usual.

Jacqueline quickly schooled her expression. She, of all people, knew exactly how sensitive what she was about to say truly was.

She had no intention of bruising his pride. As Windsor himself said, she only wanted to negotiate.

“I’ve heard that before becoming a marquess, you served as a soldier. That you were raised solely by your mother—an opera singer—until adulthood, living a life entirely unconnected to the Preston family.”

“As you say, Miss Somerset, that’s a story as famously known as the tale of the ‘impoverished noble lady.’ I trust you didn’t call me here just to repeat what everyone already knows.”

He emphasized the phrase “impoverished noble lady.” Perhaps it was his final warning.

Yet Jacqueline ignored it and added carefully,

“I hope you don’t misunderstand me, Lord Preston. I hold genuine respect for your life’s journey.”

“Miss Somerset, you’ve already wasted precisely eight minutes of my mealtime. If you truly respect my life, why not stop interfering with my routine and get straight to the point?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Compliments wouldn’t work on him. She swallowed the words: “So he’s the kind of principled man who remains unmoved by flattery,” and merely pursed her lips.

Only a direct approach remained. She was so nervous her stomach felt tightly clenched.

“When Viscount Jeffrey Preston’s will was revealed, you became head of the Preston family—transforming overnight from a soldier to a marquess, from commoner to noble. Your life changed dramatically. Thus, you likely never had the chance to learn the unnecessarily complicated and tedious etiquette of noble society.”

“Unnecessarily complicated and tedious etiquette.”

Windsor repeated her words quietly. Remarkably composed for someone whose nerve had just been struck.

He wasn’t the type to reveal his emotions openly, and Jacqueline couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Yes—unnecessarily complicated and tedious etiquette.”

She chose her words carefully as she continued.

“Etiquette was originally meant to show consideration for others, but now it’s become nothing more than a tool to feed nobles’ vanity. When wealthy entrepreneurs began rising in influence, nobles grew anxious their status might be threatened. So, they created unnecessarily complex and burdensome rules of etiquette.”

Windsor stared at her silently. This was scathing criticism he’d never heard from anyone else—and a flicker of interest appeared in his eyes.

“They foolishly believed such trivialities could distinguish noble blood from common. It’s absurd, yet they truly believed it—and noble etiquette grew increasingly intricate, making it nearly impossible for latecomers to keep up. However…”

She paused briefly, then looked at him with emerald-green eyes. Candlelight shimmered within them.

Windsor found himself transfixed by that flickering light, as if entranced. Her voice sounded distant, as though coming from far away.

“As you well know, Lord Preston, no noble can truly escape even the most unreasonable customs. This world is surprisingly small, and rumors spread quickly. Moreover, your reputation within noble society doesn’t end there—it affects nearly every aspect of your life.”

She was right. Reputation held immense influence across politics, business, culture, and diplomacy.

Windsor had recently come to understand this truth bitterly—and was now paying the price for his past indifference.

The royal court was using every means possible to take custody of Benjamin, and Windsor, in response, had to court countless nobles and legal professionals for support.

But it wasn’t easy. His deliberate distance from noble circles meant no one would readily step forward for a man who never attended social events or cultivated relationships.

He stood utterly alone. Yet it was far too late now to suddenly start chasing after banquets and gatherings—he lacked even basic knowledge of noble etiquette, just as Jacqueline had said.

If that weakness were exposed, the Preston family’s honor would be tarnished.

He refused to hand Benjamin a fractured legacy. He wanted to restore the Preston name to him—whole and untarnished—just as he had received it.

“You must have worried your actions might violate noble society’s intricate rules. That’s why you couldn’t ask any lady for a dance or join gentlemen’s social clubs. While staying on the Preston estate, rumors likely didn’t spread far—but the capital is different. This is where everyone’s desires swirl in chaos.”

Jacqueline struck the core of his thoughts as if she’d just stepped out of his mind. Windsor stared at her with newfound astonishment.

He’d thought her a sheltered flower grown in a greenhouse—yet she possessed surprising insight. And courage, too. Only someone bold would dare speak such truths to his face.

“You’re not arrogant as the rumors claim, Lord Preston—you’re simply inexperienced.”

For a moment, Windsor’s eyes wavered. Just as before, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Jacqueline.

Before he realized it, he spoke.

“How exactly do you intend to help me?”