The Countess's Body Has Disappeared - Chapter 38

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 38
A military dog tag gleamed silver between his sculpted chest muscles, flashing with sharp light. He’d draped a towel around his neck as though fresh from exercise, and his sweat-dampened skin shone like polished metal.
His bronzed, bare torso radiated a raw masculine strength. Cecilia felt heat rise all the way to the tips of her ears. It was the first time she’d ever seen a man’s naked body in person.
“What language was that just now?”
“Oh, that was just… something I made up on my own.”
“What?”
His frown deepened, and Cecilia’s flush burned even hotter. Had she been reading too many novels lately? She felt dangerously close to entertaining strange fantasies.
Cecilia decided to ignore the man and return to her work. But he stood rooted to the spot with both hands thrust into his trouser pockets, watching intently until he finally called out in an even tone.
“Cecilia.”
She startled like a frightened rabbit.
“What?”
How did he know her name? She’d never told him.
But then, just moments later, the memory surfaced—Kate had called her by name at the Stream days ago. There was nothing to be alarmed about, and she felt embarrassed at her own overreaction.
Another question came at her like a spear point.
“How long have you been living here?”
Cecilia’s gaze slipped beyond her control, drifting repeatedly toward his chest. She hurried to hang the laundry as she answered.
“I don’t know. Since I was about ten, maybe?”
“Ten? That’s strange. I’ve never seen you before…”
She let his murmuring slide past one ear and peered down into the basket.
Her plain undergarments lay soaked and piled inside. She needed to hang them, but with him standing there, she couldn’t find the courage to take them out.
“How much longer are you planning to stand there? You’re in the way. If you’ve nothing else to say, why don’t you leave?”
“All right, I’ll help.”
When Cecilia grumbled, he bent down and pulled the basket toward him. He grabbed the topmost garment, was shaking off the water when he registered just how light it was, and startled—opening it fully with a snap.
“Oh, this is…”
Cecilia turned crimson from ear to ear and snatched the undergarment back with a quick jab.
“That’s enough. Don’t you dare show your face around here again!”
She shot him a glare that could cut steel, then grabbed the laundry basket and strode swiftly into the Cottage, disappearing from view.
* * *
Davion stood by the sunlit window, holding a glass of iced black tea.
It was resplendent summer. Each time the wind stirred, the green Field rippled like waves. Davion narrowed his eyes, gazing at the small figure beneath the fresh summer air.
A woman, no larger than a thumbnail at this distance, was laughing brightly and running through the Field like a young colt.
Her hair—ivory-smooth and white—flowed with the Field, beautiful and undulant. Though she was too far away for her face to be visible, Davion felt her happiness radiating through his entire body, and he exhaled a long sigh.
“Did something pleasant happen, sir?”
“Hmm?”
Davion turned around. The middle-aged woman making the bed tapped the corner of her mouth.
He reflexively mirrored the gesture to his own lips, and Davion sighed in soft surprise. He’d been smiling without knowing it.
Aileen was a former Factory Girl who had managed his bedroom for five years. Even during the two years he’d been deployed to Kalita, she had quietly maintained the room and kept her post—a debt of gratitude he owed her.
“Aileen, that girl who lives in the Cottage out in the Field…”
Davion broached the subject carefully, his smooth brow creasing. Fortunately, Aileen took his curiosity in stride.
“You mean Cecilia, sir?”
“Why have I never seen her in all the time I’ve lived here? Doesn’t that seem strange?”
Aileen, in the midst of changing a pillowcase, smiled gently as she glanced at him.
“Cecilia doesn’t work in the Estate. So unless the lady of the house requests her, she doesn’t come here. When she was younger, she was too small to be given any duties, and now her set responsibilities are caring for her grandmother. Do you remember Betty? The nursemaid who looked after you when you were young.”
As Davion listened to the explanation, the lines above his brow deepened.
“The nursemaid is ill?”
“She’s advanced in years, though I must say she’s quite spry for her age.”
Davion had taken up smoking at the deployment site, following his comrades. But Blake had disapproved, so now whenever he returned home, he had to sneak away to the upper reaches of the Stream where it wasn’t visible from the Estate to smoke in secret.
He harbored no resentment about it. Had he not done so, he would never have thought to visit the Cottage as he once had, and he would never have discovered that white-haired girl.
At the end of Davion’s gaze, Cecilia was now making her way to a flower bed near the Cottage, carrying a shovel and fertilizer sacks. Her steps brimmed with cheerful energy.
“Our children visit the Cottage once a day to bring her food. Cecilia talks so much that anyone who goes there ends up staying at least an hour, or so they tell me. She’s truly a lovely and spirited child.”
Aileen’s voice overflowed with deep affection for Cecilia.
So Aileen cares greatly for that girl in the Cottage. As this realization struck him, something like thousands of ants crawling crept across the back of Davion’s neck, making it itch.
He couldn’t explain why. It was a strange feeling, unlike anything he’d experienced before, difficult to put into words. When heat suddenly surged up his neck and his face began to burn, he panicked and hastily changed the subject.
“By the way, Colton is doing well, isn’t he?”
“Yes, thanks to you, sir. He’s quite pleased with living in the Apartment for the first time.”
“If his leg injury continues not to heal, I’ll introduce him to a renowned doctor among the officers.”
“Thank you very much, sir.”
“Spare the formalities. It’s only natural duty among comrades.”
Colton was Aileen’s youngest son, whom she cherished dearly, and he had returned from deployment at the same time as Davion. He was originally supposed to stay at the Estate with Davion, but after sustaining a leg injury at the deployment site, Davion had secured him a separate Apartment in the city to make it easier for him to attend medical appointments.
“Then if there’s anything else you need, please do call on me.”
After checking the bell hanging from the ceiling, Aileen picked up the fresh pillowcase and turned to leave the bedroom. But Davion, having quickly made up his mind, hurried to stop her.
“Aileen, wait.”
“Yes?”
As Aileen turned from the doorknob, Davion ran his hand through his hair to mask his embarrassment.
“That food—would it be alright if I delivered it myself? I’ve been wanting to see Betty again, it’s been so long.”
“Sir, you’d do it personally?”
“Is there a problem?”
Aileen blinked her wide eyes several times, then smiled softly, revealing her white teeth. Davion understood what that smile meant.
It was a gesture of consent.
Betty had served as the estate’s nanny for thirty years. Blake had given her the cottage for her remaining years precisely because she had devoted herself entirely to the Cecilia household. Yet Davion, the youngest son of the estate, had been raised by Blake’s own hand and barely knew Betty beyond her face. So while Betty had been closer to Theodore’s nanny, no one at the estate could have known this fact unless they had worked there for decades.
Standing before the cottage’s modest entrance, Davion tidied his hair and clothes. He knocked on the door, and when a clatter sounded from the second-floor window, within seconds Cecilia yanked it open, breathless.
“Oh! I thought I’d starve to death!”
But the moment she saw Davion, her elation evaporated in an instant.
He held out the basket and spoke.
“This is for you.”
Cecilia’s face fell, and she immediately scowled.
She planted her hands on her hips and clenched her fists, as though preparing to stage a protest. Davion simply shrugged, unbothered by her glare.
“Are you planning to leave your guest standing outside the door?”
“I didn’t invite you here.”
“How unfortunate. I came prepared to be trapped for an hour at least.”
He jiggled the basket, and the aroma of fresh-baked bread wafted up enticingly.
Cecilia’s mouth watered. She rubbed her growling stomach and glanced at Davion’s waist.
There it was—a revolver strapped to his belt.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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