/
Deatrice opened the door.
The butler stood ramrod straight and patiently waited for the master’s instructions. But while his face was stoic, the other servants couldn’t hide the curiosity on their faces.
She said, “It is true that I’m not feeling well after a long carriage ride. However, you may only call the doctor once I’m done familiarizing myself with the mansion.”
“What the hell…” Lucius mumbled in a displeased manner, but he didn’t want to quarrel over the matter again. At least she agreed, so he decided to remain mum. Instead, after he was done with work, he called in four doctors to attend to her.
Deatrice laid down and met with the doctors one after the other, to which all four replied that the madam was all right and only had a light fever. They reassured that Deatrice would feel better once she is well-rested and had enough supplements to her body. Taking a walk outside for some fresh air would do her good as well.
When the doctors left, she glared at Lucius who, in contrast, was smiling at her.
She was looking at him with an ‘I told you so!’ gaze but Lucius completely treated her as a sick person and took her hand, “Hear that? You need a good rest. So, from now on, don’t move and just lay down there.”
He said, and then kissed her forehead.
Deatrice suddenly wanted to know if he was still acting because he didn’t know the room was already empty, or if he was truly worried as he’d stated earlier.
When he made a motion to leave, Deatrice grabbed his sleeve.
“Lucy.”
He paused.
Deatrice won’t deny to herself that she called out that name with the intent of retaliating against him. She wanted to deal a blow against him. But when she saw the hardened look on his face, she realized he was hit harder than she had expected.
Right…
I told her to call me ‘Lucy’ again, didn’t I?
Deatrice smiled purposefully as she sensed his fixed gaze on her. “Can you bring me some iced water?”
“Ah? Sure…”
His gaze sank, and his answer was uttered slowly. He soon gently removed the hand that held onto him and quietly withdrew from the room. When he was out of sight, Deatrice looked a little embarrassed and nervously brushed her hair.
He probably wouldn’t bring ice water or anything like that. Either he would order someone else to do it for him, or completely forget about her request altogether.
He might even regret asking her to call him that name again.
Deatrice scoffed, put on her slippers, and went to the window. The garden, which she thought to be beautiful, now looked like an eyesore to her.
She hardened her chin as she continued watching the bustling scene of servants moving left and right.
***
“How about calling me Lucy again from now on?”
As Lucius untied his cravat, he felt his own voice haunting him like a ghost from the past. He removed his formal coat and threw it on the ground, thinking it wasn’t enough, he even stomped on it.
He had been too arrogant and too confident with himself.
Lucius thought he wouldn’t be affected once she called him by that nickname again. But the way his nerves stiffened, as if lightning pulsated in his veins when she called out his name, told him that he was nothing but affected.
Damn it!
Lucius recalled a particular moment during their wedding, when she had injured her ankle. His emotions at that time had been very complicated, because it was very similar to how they first met. Looking at her face back then, the past vividly played out in his head.
She was sitting on a bench, lightly massaging her exposed ankle.
When Deatrice had just debuted in the society, the charm she exuded was as fresh as a lone yet enchanting flower. But at the same time, she was riddled with thorns that prevented people from approaching her so easily.
Lucius’ close friend, Elwood More, had once described Deatrice as an arrogant and pretentious woman, but Lucius believed that was only a wall she had imposed on herself because of her mother’s death.
Lucius went over to her and asked.
“Do you need help?”
Deatrice was surprised to sense another’s presence, but she eventually refused.
“Thank you for your offer, but I’ll figure it out myself.”
But Lucius had already figured out that she would refuse, as most young ladies would, so he knelt in front of her, took off her shoes, and placed his hands around her ankle. Admittedly, it was a little rude of him to do it without permission, but…
“This needs to be corrected as soon as possible, or it’ll get even worse.”
Before she could even refuse, he quickly snapped her ankle back into its rightful position.
With the sound of bones cracking and the sudden feeling of pain spreading through her foot, Deatrice screamed and held her handkerchief into a death grip.
When the pain had subsided to a tolerable level, she angrily raised her head as she looked at the man who touched her body without permission.
“How dare you—!”
However, as he was staring at her slowly, her anger was cut off with his retort.
“Weren’t you stealing glances at me before?”
Her face flushed red at his question.