The Murderous Duke's Domestic Affairs - Chapter 52

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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 52
I was completely exhausted. Upon returning to my room, I collapsed onto the long chair. Lise, who had been waiting for me, left with a wry smile to fetch tea, while Anna sighed and unfastened the posture-correcting straps bound around my shoulders and waist.
“I can’t imagine what you’re enduring.”
“The suffering is my own fault—my posture was poor.”
Despite taking responsibility, my voice held no strength whatsoever. Anna regarded me with sympathetic eyes as she organized the straps and ribbons. I had been receiving etiquette lessons from Jasmine Aloria for several days now.
What I had thought was merely a casual gathering to discuss what I wished to learn over tea turned out to be something entirely different—Jasmine Aloria had been observing how I habitually held myself while drinking. Beneath her smiling countenance, her olive-green eyes had been scrutinizing me with sharp precision.
Jasmine Aloria identified my greatest flaws as a hunched posture and callused hands. From childhood, I had learned to work and labored diligently ever since, which had left my back and shoulders slightly curved.
Noble ladies typically prided themselves on not working, viewing it as a virtue. They took pride in their carefully maintained beautiful hands and hair, their perfectly straight posture. Had I appeared at a social gathering in my current state, I would have invited ridicule.
The Duchess of Lilywood could not afford such treatment. Though she now managed a dressmaking studio outside the estate, Jasmine Aloria herself had originated from the Lilywood Duke’s Mansion. Her attachment to the Ducal House ran just as deep. That was why she had come running without hesitation at Aster’s call. And the Duchess she now faced was competent in work but utterly ignorant of high society.
Of course, I was not entirely without manners or knowledge. The education provided by the Previous Marquis Siaz and his wife had been excellent, and I possessed an innate grace befitting my kind and earnest nature. Yet such qualities alone were insufficient for ladies’ social gatherings.
Goodness could not withstand the contemptuous gazes that looked down upon others, nor the claws that seized upon any perceived weakness and tore it to shreds. The etiquette of high society was a form of armor—a thorny, defensive armor that people wore not to avoid their own wounds, but to wound others in turn.
Of course, Jasmine Aloria did not believe this was right. But her personal convictions did not permit her to send the gentle Duchess onto the battlefield defenseless. Though she herself had fled because she could not endure it, she could not bear to watch the people of the Ducal House suffer further wounds.
Naturally, the etiquette lessons became rigorous. Posture-correcting straps were fastened around my shoulders and back, which had grown hunched from devotion to work. Every detail was examined—the way I held the teacup, the angle of my fingers. To transform my rough, ink-stained hands into smooth ones, Anna and Lise learned from Jasmine Aloria how to properly trim nails and massage hands gently. When I returned from these grueling lessons, the two of them would help me bathe and massage me so I could rest thoroughly.
I found myself thinking anew that unfamiliar tasks should not be undertaken. Despite their devoted care, my fatigue did not completely dissipate.
Each morning I faced with difficulty, and when I sluggishly entered the office, my eyes would meet Aster’s furrowed brow. Knowing he would worry, I simply offered him a smile.
“Wouldn’t it be better to rest, at least during your etiquette lessons?”
“Perhaps so. But now both you and I are working, after all.”
Letti Torres added his comment to Aster’s concern. His blue eyes were also furrowed with worry. Do I look that unwell? I rubbed my cheeks with both hands.
“Still, I don’t wish to abandon my work.”
“They say excessive diligence becomes an illness.”
Aster shook his head in disapproval. I let out a small laugh, and Letti Torres blinked, watching Aster with apparent realization that something was different about him today. Judging by the way he lowered his head and stifled a laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing at all, sir.”
When Aster reacted sharply, his eyes narrowed, Letti Torres, who had been chuckling, cleared his throat and rose from his seat. He announced he was going to retrieve the previous tax ledgers. The excuse was quite convenient. Aster clicked his tongue audibly in disapproval. Letti Torres hastily exited the office and closed the door. Though the office was surely the best soundproofed room in the estate, Letti Torres’s booming laughter leaked through.
My eyes widened, and Aster pressed his forehead. Only after Letti Torres’s laughter faded into the distance did Aster release a long sigh. By temperament, he wanted to chase after him and scold him, but then Lauren would surely find him pathetic. Aster quickly realized he was entertaining pointless thoughts and ran a hand through his hair.
* * *
“The Duchess sent this, sir.”
What Calvin Stewart brought to the office was a deep violet envelope with a lustrous sheen like fine pearls. Living in the same house and meeting in the office every morning—what need was there for letters? Aster chuckled softly as he received the envelope and opened it, revealing a pale lavender card with edges trimmed like lace. Its color matched exactly the hue of Lauren’s eyes, and a faint smile lingered at Aster’s lips.
As he unfolded the card, familiar handwriting appeared. Neat, easily recognizable characters that spoke to Lauren’s nature. Aster gently traced her signature at the bottom with his fingertip. Then, sensing a gaze, he looked up and met Calvin Stewart’s eyes, which regarded him with a pleased expression.
“What?”
“Nothing at all, sir.”
Calvin Stewart smiled knowingly and opened the door to the adjacent room. He appeared to be retrieving something from the wardrobe. Aster sighed softly at his retreating figure. Truly, between Letti Torres and Calvin Stewart, he could never fathom what they were thinking.
His gaze returned to Lauren’s card. His deep green eyes followed the characters, then suddenly widened. His voice calling for Calvin Stewart echoed through the empty office.
“What is it, sir?”
“What is the meaning of this?”
“The meaning? It’s exactly as you’ve read it.”
Calvin Stewart smiled broadly and laid out items he had retrieved from the wardrobe onto the table. Aster examined them quietly, then let out a hollow laugh. What lay before him was one of the dresses that had been tailored at the Aloria Dressmaking Studio previously.
“Still, since the Duchess has formally invited you, shouldn’t you dress properly?”
One of Aster’s eyebrows shot up. Just as Calvin Stewart said, Lauren’s card contained an invitation to her first tea party. Her first tea party. Aster rolled the words around in his mouth. The fact that he would be the sole guest at Lauren’s inaugural tea party made his heart flutter slightly. But in the next moment, a vivid memory surfaced in his mind—the last incident that had occurred in this estate’s tea room. As if this very office were that tea room now.
Without realizing it, Aster collapsed onto the long chair. He could not breathe properly. He rested his elbows on his knees and covered his face with both hands. Yet the scarlet fantasy that flooded his vision would not fade.
Calvin rushed over in alarm at the sight of Aster struggling to draw breath. He knelt on one knee and examined his master, lifting the ashen-faced figure whose body heaved with ragged gasps. He eased Aster’s shoulders back against the armrest of the long sofa. The hand that had covered his face fell away limply.
“Your Grace?!”
Calvin called out loudly, but Aster did not regain his composure easily. His breathing, shallow and rapid, would not settle. Long ago, before Aster went to war, such episodes had occurred repeatedly. But they had been rare in recent years.
Recalling the times he had calmed the younger Aster, I unfastened several buttons of his shirt to help him breathe properly. Then I began counting his breaths in a measured voice.
Yet despite my efforts, Aster could not recover his breathing easily. His eyes grew distant, as if searching for something far away, and a single tear rolled down from the corner of his eye. In that moment, Calvin bit his lip hard.
“Breathe out, Aster!”
At the sound of Calvin calling his name, light returned to Aster’s clouded eyes. And only then did a faint breath escape from between his parted lips. His lips, drained of color from the struggle for air, trembled slightly. As Aster gradually stabilized, Calvin’s gaze trembled just as much as he watched over him.
Once Calvin confirmed that Aster’s condition was improving, he retrieved a bottle of spirits from the cabinet. He pressed the glass into Aster’s trembling hands and waited until he drank it before rising from his seat. Aster exhaled deeply and blinked several times to regain focus. Then he wiped away the tear stains on his cheeks with the back of his hand.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
In moments like these, Aster confused the past buried deep in his memory with the present. When called by his title, he often suffered another episode. So Calvin spoke to him in the casual manner he had used long ago. Aster, too, answered like the obedient boy he had been, sprawled across the long sofa. Calvin thought that since Aster could not lift himself from the sofa, he likely had not yet fully regained his senses.
“It would be better not to push yourself. Perhaps we should cancel the tea party….”
At Calvin’s murmur, Aster shook his head to stop him.
“But Lauren will be expecting it….”
Even in his dazed state, the name Lauren came to mind. Calvin smiled bitterly. The new Duchess of Lilywood. He was grateful for the way she transformed the dark mansion. He believed she was the one who could save Aster from that nightmare. Aster cared for her too. Though Aster had never said as much, such things naturally showed themselves. The Aster who had kept his mouth firmly closed had become brighter, had smiled more.
When Lauren had sought his help to invite Aster to her first tea party, he had gladly agreed. But it seemed his heart had been too eager. He had not expected Aster to crumble so completely at merely the thought of a tea party.
No—he had known. Aster had lost his parents in the tea room where his family once held a small tea party and enjoyed their tea together. The words “tea party” were as much a trigger to his trauma as pulling a gun’s trigger. He had improved so much. Aster liked Lauren, so it would be fine—that had been Calvin’s own foolish hope.
“I should wash my face.”
Aster rose unsteadily from his seat. Calvin quickly moved to support him, but Aster shook his head. He entered the adjoining room off the office. His unsteady gait troubled Calvin, who watched quietly.
A moment later, the loud sound of breaking glass came from the adjoining room. Calvin sighed softly and retrieved the first aid kit he kept in a corner of the office.

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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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