Camilla Beresford awoke from a sleep that had lasted fifteen years and began living once more with her husband and daughter, but—
“Father, honestly! You said this morning that you would take Mother out with us today, didn’t you!? Then why are you crushing her in your arms!?”
“D-Deidre, watch your words. A young lady should show restraint.”
“You’re the one at fault, Father!”
One morning, raised voices echoed through the Beresford estate in the count’s domain.
That said, only the daughter was truly angry. The father, faced with her fury, was shrinking back in visible distress.
“I wanted to take Mother into town today and let her dress up to her heart’s content! And now, ah, really! Because of Father’s possessive and clingy nature, our plans are completely ruined!”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I failed to restrain myself.”
“Please don’t say things like that in front of a daughter of marriageable age!”
“You were the one who brought it up first…”
“Luke? Deidre?”
Hearing the argument, a gentle voice drifted down from the staircase. At once, both father and daughter stopped bickering and hurried toward it.
“Camilla!”
“Mother!”
Descending the stairs with one hand on the railing was Camilla, wearing nothing more than a nightdress with a single gown thrown over it.
Even for family, it was far too defenseless an outfit. But having overslept, she had heard her husband and daughter arguing downstairs and came down hastily to intervene without fully preparing herself.
Despite having a sixteen-year-old daughter, Camilla still looked astonishingly young. She smiled with a troubled expression, one hand pressed lightly to her cheek.
“Good morning. I could hear how lively you two were all the way upstairs.”
“Good morning, Camilla. You look as lovely as ever this morning.”
“Good morning, Mother. …You know, Mother, we were planning to go out today, but why don’t we change it and relax at home instead?”
Deidre pushed her father aside as he immediately tried to charm his wife. The fierceness she had shown moments earlier vanished without a trace as she clung to her mother with a sweet, coaxing expression.
“I found some wonderfully delicious tea the other day. Let’s drink it together and chat. Please?”
“That does sound lovely. But are you sure? Deidre, didn’t you say you wanted to go look at dresses?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. …So, Father, you’re no longer needed. Could you please go over there?”
“You little–”
Luke’s mouth twitched, but Deidre paid him no heed. Caught between them, Camilla looked back and forth at their faces in confusion.
Ever since Camilla’s petrification had been undone, not only Luke but Deidre as well had been utterly clingy to her. Every day, the two of them bickered over Camilla, even quarreling at lunchtime over who would sit beside her.
The servants watched with expressions that said what can you do, but in truth they felt it was fine. Luke, who had devoted himself to work and raising his daughter to atone for the wife frozen in stone, and Deidre, who had stretched herself to become a daughter worthy of pride for her mother, both looked more alive than ever.
Luke, a loyal knight of the royal family, and Deidre, who dazzled high society with her refined grace whenever she appeared as the crown prince’s cousin, were known as a beautiful father-daughter pair, sharp and unshakable like honed blades.
That such figures were so utterly devoted to his wife and her mother at home was likely known only to the crown prince and Pamela, consort of the Ashardian Emperor.
Clinging to Camilla’s arm was Deidre, while Luke glared at his daughter with a sulky expression.
Though Camilla was aware that she was loved by them both, she failed to grasp just how overwhelming that affection truly was. Suddenly, as if struck by an idea, she clapped her hands.
“Then why don’t Luke and Deidre go shopping together?”
“No, thank you.”
Father and daughter answered in the exact same tone, with the exact same expression.
Unable to help herself, Camilla burst into laughter.
