Chapter 32
The door swung open, and standing there was a boy who bore a striking resemblance to Derek Grenville—yet sharper in features, his pallid skin lending him a frail, almost sickly air.
“It’s been a while, Andrew,” Elisa greeted.
It was Andrew Grenville, Derek’s half-brother.
They’d only met twice before, and their relationship was awkward at best. Still, Elisa offered him a warm smile.
“……”
But all she received in return was a curt nod, his gaze cool and disapproving as it flicked over her.
“Andrew, mind your manners,” came a gentle but firm voice.
Before Elisa could ask what was wrong, a pale, elegant hand settled upon the boy’s shoulder.
It was Lady Monarch Grenville, Andrew’s mother.
“…Hello,” Andrew muttered reluctantly, bowing his head under his mother’s watchful eye.
Lady Grenville released a quiet sigh, her expression softening into a gracious smile as she turned to Elisa.
“It’s been too long, Lady Elisa. Have you been well?”
“Yes, thanks to your kind concern, I’ve been doing fine,” Elisa replied politely.
“I’m glad to hear it. Ah, don’t just stand there—please, come in.”
Stepping inside, Elisa froze at the sight before her.
Derek lay on the bed, his head and arm swathed in bandages, his right arm suspended in a sling.
The sharp tang of disinfectant clung to the air, striking her like a cold wave that sent her heart plummeting.
“Is he… badly hurt?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Lady Grenville shook her head softly.
“Fortunately, aside from a fractured arm, his injuries are not severe. The real concern is his head—he struck it quite hard when the carriage overturned. The physicians advised a short stay in the hospital to monitor him, just in case.”
She explained gently that, so far, no complications had appeared.
If a week passed without issue, Derek would be discharged.
Relief, thin and fragile, washed over Elisa, and she gave a small nod.
Against the far wall, Andrew leaned lazily against the doorframe, watching in silence.
Then he crossed the room to whisper something into his mother’s ear.
Whatever it was, it did not please her; a faint furrow creased her brow.
“Lady Elisa,” Lady Grenville said after a measured pause, her voice polite but tinged with weight. “Forgive me, but may I ask you something?”
Elisa, who had just set down the gift she brought on the side table, inclined her head.
“I heard that once you and Derek marry, you may be living for a time in the Kingdom of Tahal. Is that true?”
Ah.
A quiet jolt of dismay rang through her.
The talk had indeed surfaced before—but it was nothing more than speculation.
Neither she nor Derek had made any decision.
So he had mentioned it to his parents…
Perhaps he had simply sought advice, she reasoned, yet the thought left her unsettled all the same.
What troubled her most was the possibility that Lady Grenville might ask why she would go to Tahal.
Elisa could hardly confess that it was for Noah’s treatment.
“…I see. Judging from your reaction, it seems this is the first you’re hearing of it as well,” Lady Grenville said with a soft, knowing smile.
But Lady Grenville misunderstood Elisa’s startled expression, reading it in an entirely different light.
With a sympathetic nod, she said,
“When Derek wakes, could you ask him for me? It’s been nearly an hour since he took his medicine, so he should stir any moment now.”
All the while the woman spoke, Elisa’s gaze never strayed from Derek.
“If possible… persuade him to stay in the Kingdom of Petra. He may not heed our words, but yours—he always listens to.”
Unaware that Elisa herself was the one most desperate to go to Tahal, Lady Grenville entrusted her with the request, then left the room with Andrew in tow.
Even after they departed, Elisa lingered, watching Derek’s sleeping form before setting about arranging the gifts she had brought: Countess Leslie’s homemade cookies, and peaches.
They were out of season, but she had brought them anyway—because Derek liked them.
“…Water.”
Just as she was finishing, a faint groan reached her from behind.
She turned quickly.
Derek’s eyes had cracked open, and he was clutching his bandaged head, parched and struggling to speak.
“Here.”
Elisa abandoned what she was doing, filled a cup, and hurried to his side.
Half-blind, Derek took it and drank greedily.
“…Elisa?”
Only after drinking did his awareness fully return.
His eyes widened, lighting with a mixture of surprise and joy as they fixed on her.
“When did you come?”
“Just a moment ago. Do you want some more water?”
“No… water’s fine, but…”
His gaze shifted to the peaches on the table.
At once, Elissa understood.
She brought one over and deftly peeled the skin.
“You’re good at that,” Derek remarked with unguarded admiration.
“I’ve had plenty of practice.”
“You? Personally?”
He sounded genuinely puzzled, and Elisa allowed herself a faint smile.
It wasn’t unusual—noble ladies seldom handled fruit themselves.
She hadn’t known how, either, once.
But during her pregnancy with Noah, she had been all but confined to a remote villa to conceal the truth.
Only a single maid had attended her, burdened with everything—her meals, her laundry, even preparing her bed.
Seeing how exhausting it was, Elisa had insisted on doing what little she could herself.
One of those things was peeling fruit.
Though plagued by nausea, fruit was the only food she could manage.
Day after day, she survived on it alone, and soon her hands grew skilled without her realising.
“Here.”
“Thank you.”
Derek took the fork she offered in his uninjured left hand.
But left-handed clumsiness betrayed him—the peach slipped from the fork and fell before it even reached his lips.
Silently, Elisa bent to retrieve it, then readied another piece on the fork for him—
Elisa slid another piece of peach onto the fork and held it out to Derek.
This time, he managed to eat it without incident, but the way his hand trembled still made her uneasy.
“I’ll feed you,” she said softly.
Afraid he would drop it again, Elisa brought the fork to his lips herself.
Derek looked at her, eyes widening slightly in surprise, but like a small fledgling, he accepted the bite without protest.
In no time at all, he had finished the peach.
A satisfied smile lingered on his lips.
“Would you like some more?” she asked.
She thought he would say yes, since he seemed to enjoy it, but Derek shook his head.
“There’s at least one good thing about being injured,” he murmured.
“And what’s that?” Elisa tilted her head.
“That means I can be taken care of by you.”
His smile was so radiant, so utterly genuine, that Elisa’s chest tightened with guilt.
“…I’ll go tidy up.”
Using the excuse of cleaning, she fled before her conscience could crush her.
When she returned with freshly washed dishes, Derek looked up at her almost immediately.
“That day… Did you wait long for me?”
Elisa paused, patting her damp hands dry with a handkerchief before meeting his gaze.
“That day?”
“The Amour River boat festival.”
Ah. That day.
Her expression stiffened.
Not because of waiting for Derek Grenville, but because the memory of what had happened with Ethan surged up unbidden.
“…I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” Derek said, mistaking her silence for assent.
“I should’ve sent word right away, but the accident threw everything into chaos… I truly am sorry.”
“N-no! Please, there’s no need to apologise!”
Elisa waved her hands so frantically that the handkerchief nearly flew from her grip.
If anyone should apologise, it was her.
After all, it was because of her that Ethan had caused Derek’s carriage accident in the first place.
Maybe that was why.
Whenever she looked at Derek—bandages wrapped around him, pain etched faintly on his face—her heart filled less with concern than with guilt and dread.
She could hardly meet his eyes.
Part of her longed to bow deeply and confess everything, but she knew that would only confuse him, perhaps even drive him away.
So instead, she forced the words out:
“If there’s anything you need, anything at all—just tell me. Whatever I can do, I’ll do it.”
Derek blinked, surprised, his eyes widening.
“Anything I ask… you’ll do?”
“Yes. Whatever it is.”
Elisa nodded firmly, as though she could shake the weight of guilt from her shoulders by sheer force.
Derek touched his chin thoughtfully with his good hand, hesitation flickering across his face.
Finally, he spoke, careful and measured.
“Then… may I ask if you have any idea who might have done this to me?”
The question struck like a blade.
Elisa froze, her expression going blank as ice raced through her veins.
Yet her heart hammered in her chest, so loud it nearly drowned him out.
“This morning, the constable came by,” Derek continued.
“He said it looked like the work of someone who bore a deep grudge against me. A deliberate crime.”
His voice wove through the fog in her mind.
“They asked if I had enemies—anyone who might wish me harm. But… I can’t think of a soul. Perhaps I’m simply too oblivious to notice. So I thought I’d ask you. Do you know of anyone who might come to mind?”
