A Butterfly Through the Mist - Chapter 50

“Ah, yes. How is Miss Cecilia, who is attending the academy with you?”

As soon as their father finished speaking, Gilbert smiled warmly and brought up the detested woman.

“Is she still chasing after you these days? Such consistent affection. You should treat her well. Where else would you find someone that dedicated? I heard she even turned down several proposals from men with confirmed titles for your sake.”

He spoke while closely observing Ilex’s expression, as if worried the valuable stallion might try to flee or perhaps suspecting that Ilex had other intentions.

After confirming that there was no unusual expression on Ilex’s face—a face that knew better than to overstep its place on the chessboard—Gilbert turned to his father with a soft voice.

“Father, how is the steel company we partnered with Clayton these days?”

“Nothing short of impressive! Just yesterday, new investors…”

While the father and son, voices brimming with excitement, continued their animated conversation, Ilex looked sideways with cold eyes.

His mother, Seraphine Davenport, sipped her wine, her expression showing indifference. Around her neck, covered by her reddish-brown hair, were red marks that looked as though they had been made just yesterday.

From what he knew, neither his mother nor his father had entered the mansion last night.

The thought that they might have spent the night together was merely delusional, surely without basis.

A family absorbed in their own separate thoughts—why did they even bother upholding such a breakfast tradition?

Holding the same initial thought, Ilex again mocked his father, who tried to maintain an empty sense of dignity.

However, there was the faintest hint of strength in the hand with which he picked up his cutlery.

Only Seraphine, seated beside her youngest son, noticed the tension, but even that glance was fleeting, and she paid no further attention to him.

***

‘Let’s see… This one’s similar to the one I bought before…’

In a secondhand bookstore on the outskirts of the capital, Tilia stood on her tiptoes, scanning the books about Ontaroa.

‘This one seems similar to the one at home, but maybe I should still give it a read.’

After some deliberation, she stretched her arm and managed to pull the book from the shelf. Its dirty cover made it look well-worn at first glance.

Though there were newer bookstores around, even with some hiding entertainment venues in their basements, Tilia preferred these old, secondhand bookshops.

She wasn’t sure why she found comfort in worn-out and shabby things. Perhaps she felt a sense of kinship with them.

One thing was certain: the more a book bore signs of use, the less it seemed like a book one might steal glances at.

Immersed in the musty-smelling book, it took Tilia quite a while to realize that this was the same bookstore where she’d met Ilex Davenport.

With a frown, she recalled his inexplicable behavior.

After his initial flower gift, Ilex had sent the same arrangement every day. Luxurious baskets filled with the most expensive, flawless flowers.

The maid had made a fuss, urging Tilia to look at them, but to Tilia’s eyes, they were no different from flowers on the side of the road.

There was only one aspect of them she appreciated—their utility.

This summer, Tilia had experienced an unusually calm vacation.

Her father, utterly convinced that Ilex Davenport was infatuated with her, had ceased his every-other-day reprimands.

He didn’t make a fuss if she shut herself in her room, and if she went out, he greeted her cheerfully.

Just last week, he’d even suggested she needed a new dress—the first time he’d done so since a lady had pointed out to him how inappropriate Tilia’s short-sleeved dress was.

It wasn’t only her father who had quieted down. George, too, began avoiding her, glancing at her cautiously.

The few times they crossed paths on the second-floor hallway, he had muttered curses but didn’t otherwise pick a fight, stepping aside to let her pass.

This, too, was a first since George had broken her ribs during a beating.

Shrewd as always, Tilia chose not to correct their misunderstandings and reveled in the rare tranquility of her summer.

She studied diligently, made good use of her days, and earnestly prepared for her departure to Ontaroa.

Yet there were still moments when she had to flee the house.

“Ah, Tilia! Come over here. This is my daughter. What do you think? Isn’t she undeniably beautiful?”

Those were the times when her father paraded her before the businessmen who visited their mansion, as though she were a trophy.

“She is so smart and exceptional. Every day, I worry that someone might snatch her away, ha ha!”

Baron Ambrose looked at Tilia with a proud expression, but she could tell by the eyes of the middle-aged men gazing at her with interest what was really happening.

It was clear her father was bragging to his wealthy guests that she had ensnared the affections of the second son of Duke Davenport, all in an attempt to secure investments.

And so, whenever there was a hint of a guest arriving, Tilia made sure to pass along word that she had an appointment and needed to leave.

Today was one of those days. When she told Baron Ambrose she needed to visit the capital, he looked displeased but reluctantly waved her away.

He looked as if he fully believed she was off to meet Ilex Davenport.

“Wait. Tilia, if you meet the second son of Davenport this time…”

Just as she turned to leave, Bradley had caught her arm. Recalling his words, Tilia frowned slightly.

No matter how much he tried to sell her, it seemed his business wasn’t going well.

Even after hosting all those guests, they still lacked money. Thinking about her father’s incompetence only strengthened Tilia’s determination as she looked at the books.

In the family that was destined to fall, her only way of surviving was to graduate.

But her concentration quickly began to scatter, as it always did.

She realized the book she was holding was far inferior to the ones the man who kept sending her flowers had bought for her.

Annoying as it was, she couldn’t deny that the books Ilex had handed her at the bookstore were incredibly helpful.

Her fluency had been weak in practical conversation, as she’d focused on memorizing vocabulary and grammar. Those books offered a variety of examples that enhanced her skills for the real interview.

Unwilling as she was to admit it, he seemed to be quite a capable teacher, able to pinpoint her weaknesses.

Tilia glared at the corner where they had stood, noses almost touching, as she closed the now useless book.

Why was Ilex Davenport sending her flowers every day? Why hadn’t he sent a single note or shown any sign of taking credit for his gifts?

What did the chocolates in that box mean, along with the asparagus?

Even after contemplating these questions for a long time, Tilia could not come up with a single reason.

For a moment, she even entertained the thought that he truly wanted her as his mistress. But if that were the case, why hadn’t he contacted her?

The fact remained that they had shared a night together. She couldn’t deny that Ilex had seemed to enjoy himself immensely.

Yet that night was their last interaction. She hadn’t seen even a glimpse of him as the summer break neared its end.

‘Is this how the wealthy treat their mistresses? Offering compensation even without taking their bodies?’

Her understanding of Ilex had always been muddled, filled with confusion.

His actions were always a mystery to her.

He had no reason to treat her as a lover, yet he wasn’t behaving as one would expect towards a mistress either.

While she had enjoyed the freedom his gifts afforded her, whenever she thought of him, she felt lost.

‘If only he would just officially recognize me as a mistress, then I could chart my course accordingly.’

She could either despise him, or despise him and push him away.

Of course, the comfort his gifts provided was undeniable.

But beyond that comfort was an ever-present unease.

Few things were more unsettling than a gift whose true nature was unknown.

Why had he sent her flowers? Why had that table been filled with her favorite dishes?

Caught in another web of endless questions, Tilia suddenly felt drained.

She realized these thoughts were ultimately meaningless.

Whatever Ilex Davenport’s intentions were, they were irrelevant to her.

After all, in six months, she would be in Ontaroa—a place where no one knew her, where she could live the life she imagined.

He’s just a strange man, that’s all.

It probably doesn’t mean anything, knowing him.

Recalling her unchanging plan, Tilia made up her mind and decisively returned the book to the shelf.