A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 138

The butler who greeted Tilia at the Davenport estate wore an expression that barely concealed his confusion. But only for a moment—at Tilia’s request to see the Dowager Duchess of Davenport, he quickly erased any emotion and answered politely.

“I am sorry, my lady. Her Grace is currently out. When she returns, I shall be sure to inform her that Miss Ambrose visited—”

“No. There’s no need to tell her.”

Tilia cut him off firmly, speaking to the butler who had been reciting his lines as if reading from a prepared script.

“I will wait. Until she returns.”

“……”

“You said she’s merely out, so she should return before the day ends, shouldn’t she? I can wait. I will wait.”

Conveying her intentions without hesitation, Tilia looked at the butler with unwavering eyes. Faced with her unyielding attitude, the man with the rough features and bow tie pressed his lips together for a moment before responding with a slight delay.

“Very well. If you insist… I shall escort you to the drawing room.”

Unable to refuse Miss Ambrose’s request, the butler led Tilia into the Davenport estate’s drawing room.

“I will have a maid bring some tea. Please wait a moment.”

After the butler bowed politely and withdrew, Tilia slowly turned her head to look around the drawing room.

It was only after arriving that she realized—this was the same drawing room she had once been shown to when visiting Ilex.

Even the most expensive furniture was just furniture to her, something she never paid much attention to. What had triggered her recognition was the portraits.

Tilia fixed her gaze on the paintings adorning the walls, as if searching for clues. The figures, painted in luxurious colors that naturally drew the eye, all had rare and striking appearances.

Among them, the one who most caught Tilia’s attention—as before—was the smallest child.

Tilia gazed quietly at the blond child wearing a sullen expression, then naturally lifted her eyes to the woman sitting beside young Ilex.

She, too, was someone Tilia knew.

In the past, when she had frequented the Ontaroa royal palace, she had seen her from afar in a portrait—the third princess of the Bardin royal family, Seraphine Davenport.

Was it an embellishment by the artist, or had she truly not aged a day?

Tilia stared steadily at the radiant-faced duchess, whose appearance seemed unchanged from the time she bore the royal surname decades ago.

Ilex must take after his mother’s side.

After studying her features for a long while, Tilia reached this conclusion. With that simple thought, she turned her head and moved toward the window.

Beyond the third-floor window, which appeared to belong to the main drawing room, a beautiful garden stretched out—or so it seemed. Half shrouded in darkness, it was difficult to tell for sure. Only the gate, brightly lit by outdoor lamps, stood out clearly now that the sun had completely disappeared.

Tilia stared at the sharply gleaming iron gate with a composed expression.

Even though she was certain it was Seraphine Davenport who had sent the fake courier, she had not gone to Saint Mary’s Hospital as lured.

The reason was simple.

She had no intention of putting herself in danger.

Tilia didn’t know what kind of person Ilex’s mother truly was. She didn’t know why her name had appeared in Norbert Karel’s cabinet, or whether she had indeed been behind the theft of her letters, or why she had gone so far as to forge the hospital’s seal to send a letter.

What Tilia knew was only one thing: the former princess of Ontaroa likely possessed more information than she let on.

Though she wished to meet her to uncover the truth, she could not simply follow the lead of a woman who might do anything to her. Thus, Tilia had chosen neutral ground—the Davenport estate, between Ilex and his mother.

From Ilex’s actions—how he had tried to hide the news about Seraphine Davenport—she could infer his wariness.

He was wary of his own mother. He did not want Tilia to meet her.

If that was the case, it was certain that Ilex had placed someone inside the Davenport household to watch over her.

If Tilia knew Ilex’s methods—and after witnessing the careful arrangements he had made for three years—he would have done so without fail.

And once again, her prediction was right.

Tilia allowed a faint, bitter smile to cross her lips as she recalled the butler’s face.

Though she had feigned ignorance before him, Tilia had already recognized it.

He was the same man she had seen months ago—at the old inn in the city’s outskirts.

“Your Grace, we tracked the fleeing criminal and—! Oh, oh my.”

The scene of the man who had burst into the room, announcing that he had tracked down the fleeing criminal—only to hurriedly shut the door again after seeing Tilia and Ilex embracing—flashed through Tilia’s mind as she lightly massaged her temple.

Her head, long lulled into peace, now ached from the strain of deduction.

Pull yourself together.

Chiding herself, Tilia pressed harder against her temple.

She could already sense it without overthinking. Today had only just begun. More worries and headaches would surely follow. She couldn’t afford to grow tired yet.

I have to uncover the truth.

Muttering inwardly, Tilia steeled herself.

I have to see what lies beyond the fog. I must know what’s there. Only then can I face Ilex…

Having a past she had once willfully ignored, deceiving herself, Tilia had no intention of repeating the same mistake.

I must face him. Even if it’s uncomfortable, I have to confront him head-on.

The moment she opened her eyes, as if resolving herself, her sharpened green gaze caught sight of a carriage approaching the estate through the darkness.

She’s in there.

Trusting her instincts, Tilia stepped closer to the window.

The carriage, moving at a rather slow pace, came to a halt right before the main gate, where a minor scuffle seemed to be taking place with the waiting staff.

What is it?

Narrowing her eyes, Tilia watched the troubled coachman and the stationary carriage’s window alternately.

Just then, a pale hand appeared beyond the black carriage window, brushing aside a glossy curtain—a hand belonging to someone Tilia had seen in a family portrait not long ago.

So it wasn’t an embellishment after all.

Tilia found herself thinking involuntarily as she gazed at Seraphine Davenport’s dazzling face.

Wearing a bored expression that matched her noble appearance, Seraphine glanced indifferently at the servants’ squabble, then languidly lifted her gaze.

It happened in an instant.

Their eyes met—Tilia’s and Seraphine’s—midair.

Even with the outdoor lights on, night inevitably veiled everything. In the thick darkness, it was impossible to discern fine colors or brightness. Thus, Tilia couldn’t confirm whether Seraphine Davenport’s eyes truly possessed the same beautiful pale-blue hue she had seen in the portrait, or whether they bore the same pale grayish-blue as Ilex’s.

She could only recognize one thing clearly:

The eyes that had seemed as flat and lifeless as a painting now shone vividly, as if they had torn through the canvas. Her full lips, stained a deep red, stretched into a snake-like grin, as if she had spotted her prey.

Suppressing the chill that crept up her arms, Tilia held Seraphine’s gaze steadfastly.

Seeing her unwavering stare, Seraphine smiled even more broadly and began speaking directly to the guards.

The servants, who had been arguing for quite some time without progress, quickly yielded at the Duchess’s single command. As one servant rushed off somewhere, the carriage carrying the noblewoman began to move slowly again.

She’ll be here soon.

Only then did Tilia exhale the breath she had been holding and take a step back.

Once again, her prediction was spot on.

Moments later, there was a brief commotion outside the drawing room, followed by the door swinging open with a loud thud.

The door opened without warning.

Not yet ready to face what was coming, Tilia stiffened slightly as she turned toward the woman who entered.

Under the bright interior lights, the woman who had once been glimpsed faintly from afar was breathtakingly beautiful.

So Ilex really does take after his mother’s side.

Unable to help herself, Tilia once again thought so as she stared into the same pale blue-gray eyes she had seen in Ilex.

What will she say? How will she provoke me?

Tilia braced herself, vowing that no matter what Seraphine tried, she would not be easily shaken.

Just then—

“Oh my! I’m so, so delighted to meet you like this!”

Seraphine rushed toward her with a voice so sweet it could charm anyone.

There was no time to dodge.

In an instant, the distance between them closed, and the woman seized Tilia’s hand tightly—as if reuniting with a long-lost lover.