A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 47

How thoughtless must one be to resort to such actions?

Nancy swallowed a deep sigh before speaking, “I once again apologize for any discomfort caused to the guest. However, I hope you understand that my actions were solely out of concern for you, young master.”

Unlike his father, who was prudent and gracious, the son seemed utterly foolish.

Should she say more or not? After a brief hesitation, Nancy decided to recall the Duke’s request and her role as the head maid, offering sincere advice as an elder.

“If I may, as someone who attended to the young lady this morning, I’d like to say something. It’s fine to indulge in the passion of a moment and take a mistress, but at least choose a woman who won’t bring harm to you, young master… Ugh!”

However, she couldn’t finish her advice.

The instant she mentioned the guest, Ilex Davenport’s expression shifted drastically. As though she’d touched a nerve, his face twisted, and he swiftly raised his hand, seizing Nancy by the throat.

“Ugh… ugh.”

Caught off guard, Nancy couldn’t even try to dodge; her throat was immediately gripped.

He wasn’t squeezing hard or applying pressure to her windpipe.

But she knew instinctively.

Unlike his loose grip, the cold, murderous intent in his blue-gray eyes was genuine.

The young master truly wanted to kill her, right here, at this very moment.

“I understand now why Father chose you.”

With eyes devoid of any warmth, Ilex Davenport spoke in a soft tone, completely at odds with the situation.

“Perhaps he wanted me to commit murder.”

Pressing down on the terrified woman’s artery, he smiled faintly, lifting one corner of his lips.

The mark left from last night’s bite split open, staining his lips with a hint of red.

“Father played his cards wisely, didn’t he?”

***

After the argument ended, the carriage Ilex Davenport called for Tilia was luxurious. The coachman was polite, the seats were plush, and even the curtains on the windows were meticulously maintained.

However, despite that, it was far inferior to the one she had ridden the previous night from the Davenport estate.

Recalling his displeased expression as he watched the hired carriage in front of the mansion, Tilia tightened her grip on the empty glass vial she held.

“Drink it.”

What the emotionless man handed her after breakfast was a vial containing an orange-colored liquid.

He had been right—it was different from the last one.

The previous contraceptive had been small and transparent, barely two fingers in length. This time, the dosage was much larger, and the taste was different too.

She thought she’d made the right decision to listen to him as she drank the concoction, which tasted faintly like diluted orange juice.

Despite its taste, the potion contained danger, and she couldn’t afford to let herself be ruined. Not when the second graduation exam was just around the corner, and she couldn’t risk any possible consequences.

As she recalled Ilex’s indifferent expression while she drank the liquid, Tilia turned her head slightly to look out the window.

The carriage was already traveling down the main road that led to the royal capital. She would reach home in no more than twenty minutes.

What would she say in her defense?

Recalling her father’s furious face, shadows of worry clouded Tilia’s eyes.

She’d stayed out without any prior notice. If she were lucky, perhaps her father hadn’t returned home last night, but if not, she would surely face a severe punishment.

A dull ache had already started to throb in her temples as if she’d been struck, and Tilia let out a small sigh.

Of all times, it had to be on a day she’d eaten so much. If she got kicked in the stomach, it would be agonizing.

Holding her pounding head, Tilia thought back to the lavish breakfast she’d had that morning.

“You can leave the asparagus to the side. You don’t have to eat it all.”

The man’s voice echoed in her ears at that moment.

That morning, Ilex Davenport had said that.

It was as if he knew she didn’t like asparagus.

‘What was that about?’

As she pondered the words she’d brushed off lightly, Tilia tapped her fingernail against the empty vial.

Upon reflection, all the dishes laid out on the breakfast table were her favorites—from the smoked salmon to the tomato marinade and the dumplings with sauce.

‘It’s possible with just one dish, but having so many coincide like that?’

Frowning, Tilia tried to recall the face of the man who had insisted she eat before she left.

The expression on Ilex’s face as he threatened her to drink the contraceptive had been no different from usual. All she could discern was his usual deep indifference and boredom, which she could never fully comprehend.

Still, she couldn’t easily put her suspicions to rest and continued to question his intentions.

Had he acted suspiciously before? Was there anything he’d given her that felt oddly personal?

It was at that moment that the memory of the chocolates flashed across Tilia’s mind.

The box that contained all sorts of medicines, which she had jokingly called a “commemorative kit for their time together.”

And the chocolates that had been placed inside for no apparent reason.

The box Judy had brought her was full of high-end medicines—expensive pharmaceuticals that had clearly been prepared by a professional apothecary.

Except for one thing—the chocolate wrapped in red packaging.

To Tilia, who would buy it to reward or encourage herself, it was quite pricey. But compared to the other items in the box? It was just an ordinary product easily available anywhere.

Yet there it was, right in the middle of the box, nestled among the expensive, high-quality remedies, its sweet scent masked by the bitter smell of the medicines.

‘And it was definitely from my favorite brand.’

At the time, she’d simply thought it was part of the kit—a nod to the common fact that people crave sweets when they’re in pain.

But why, of all chocolates, was it that particular brand?

Considering Ilex Davenport and the value of everything in that box, it would have made more sense for something else to be there.

If Ilex Davenport himself had specified the items in the box…

Or rather, if it wasn’t the servant who filled it, but the master himself who took the trouble to do so…

Tilia tightened her grip on the glass vial, her unease growing.

Creak. The carriage wheels came to a gentle stop. Startled, Tilia’s ears caught the coachman’s energetic voice.

“We’ve arrived!”

Hearing this, Tilia paused for a moment before adjusting her skirt and putting on a different expression.

Useless thoughts were a luxury. Now, it was time to focus on what really mattered—survival.

***

Splaack! Her cheek was struck.

Before she could turn her head, a fist came down from above. The blow carried more force than usual, seething with his rage.

Unable to withstand the force, Tilia fell to the floor.

She had hoped, prayed even, that her father had spent the night at the gambling hall, but Baron Ambrose had apparently been waiting for his daughter’s return in the study.

“I raised you so well!”

Holding her throbbing head, Tilia swallowed down the nausea rising in her throat.

Her father, Bradley Ambrose, now literally stomped around in a fury, screaming at her, “Where have you been, acting like a common whore? Did I send you to the academy for this?!”

She could taste blood in her mouth. Ever since that incident when they’d had to call a priest, he had tried his best not to hit her face, but today even that resolution seemed to have wavered.

“What excuse will you give your future husband for your ruined maidenhood? Huh? What will you tell the man who buys you? You useless girl! Where did you go, spreading your legs like that?!”

Worthless. A husband who would buy her. A body used without care.

These words were harsh for simply staying out for one night, but Tilia, who already understood the true reason behind her father’s outrage, was hardly surprised.

“You’re awfully quiet, which tells me this isn’t the first time. Huh? Isn’t it? I’ve known since you started wandering around. How many men have you slept with, you filthy girl? Your father can’t even face your future husband out of shame!”

Bradley raged like he did when a bond he’d invested a fortune in turned into scrap paper, or when he found out that an expensive porcelain piece he’d purchased was a fake.