Maylily - Chapter 9

Though well past the usual time to return home, Maylily had not yet arrived. When there was no response after knocking, Hugh inserted the key David had given him into the lock. Click—the heavy metal door opened with a dull sound.

When he lit the gas lamp on the console by the entrance, the silent dusk receded a step. There was no hesitation in the footsteps that carried the lamp deeper inside.

Hugh opened the sitting room door and walked along the wall, observing his surroundings carefully.

Traditional dolls in costume placed on the fireplace mantel, a small and crudely painted seascape next to them, tiny herb pots by the window, ivory lace covers draped over the back of the sofa.

Though items that appeared to belong to a woman were scattered about, the space felt devoid of life, like a place no one actually lived in.

By the time he passed through the door connecting the sitting room to the bedroom, Hugh understood why. Aside from the few items mentioned earlier, there were very few belongings in the home. Not only in plain sight but also in hidden spaces like closets or drawers.

He hadn’t come to snoop, but the emptiness felt a little disappointing. A house without a hint of secrecy resembled the woman’s face, revealing her inner thoughts as transparently as glass.

After a cursory glance through the barely half-filled closet, Hugh returned to the sitting room. That was when he heard it: the faint sound of a carriage approaching from afar, growing louder until it stopped in the snowy street outside the window.

As the coachman opened the door wide, a well-built young man stepped out. Following him, Maylily alighted onto the ground with a smiling face, and Hugh’s eyes narrowed.

***

The dress rehearsal that had begun in the afternoon continued until the evening. Because it involved coordinating singers’ vocals, acting, movements, and checking technical elements under the same conditions as the actual performance, it took longer than other rehearsals.

By the time Maylily left the theater later than usual, the snowfall—marking the end of this winter—was blanketing the streets.

Just as she was worrying over the unexpected blizzard, she ran into a composer by chance who offered to share his carriage. Thanks to that, Maylily was spared the trouble of walking to the public stagecoach.

After parting ways with the composer in front of the shared residence, she climbed the stairs and reached her home, where she nearly fainted.

She was certain she had locked the door before leaving for work…

But the front door’s lock was undone, and light spilled out from the gap in the slightly ajar sitting room door.

A burglar!

Her heart dropped. Her belongings weren’t worth much and could be replaced, but if anything in this house or the furniture was stolen and she had to pay damages, that would be a serious issue.

Stay calm. You need to stay calm!

Trying to steady her wildly pounding heart, Maylily went to the kitchen and grabbed the sturdiest-looking pot by both handles. Then, she crept forward and peeked through the crack in the sitting room door. She intended to gauge the situation before charging in recklessly.

The intruder, a tall man with a robust frame who looked like he’d come to an art gallery, stood leisurely with his hands behind his back by the window. While studying that oddly familiar figure, the man suddenly turned and met her eyes through the narrow gap.

Black hair, tall stature, straight and elegant posture, and those cold eyes.

It was the Count of Everscourt.

“Gasp…!”

Maylily sucked in a breath, her arms momentarily losing strength, and she dropped the pot she had been holding above her shoulders. As it clanged against the door, the impact pushed it open with a loud creak.

The gas lamp by the window cast a faint glow over Maylily’s panicked face. The Count’s gaze pierced straight through, and Maylily, like prey caught in a predator’s sight, stammered.

“Ah, good evening, Count of Everscourt.”

“Have you been well?”

In contrast to Maylily, the Count wore a relaxed smile. It was a refined smile, yet not one suited to a man caught trespassing in an empty house.

Though the meeting had occurred in the most unexpected of ways, Maylily, overwhelmed by shock and displeasure, didn’t dare express those emotions.

“Yes, thanks to your care, Count. But… how are you here…?”

“Is it too late?”

“Oh, no. I just got home from work… I’ll take off my coat and be right back.”

“Leave it. Unless you plan to use it as a weapon.”

The Count’s eyes subtly gestured toward the pot still in Maylily’s hand. Startled, she glanced at the pot she had forgotten, then quickly hid it behind her back.

“This is, well, um… I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”

Her face flushed bright red, and she fled toward the bedroom.

Not long after, Maylily returned to the sitting room and lit the surrounding candlesticks one by one as she approached Hugh.

“Thank you for waiting, Count.”

Hugh, who had been sitting in the armchair by the window and looking down at the spot where the carriage had briefly stopped and departed, slowly turned his gaze to Maylily.

“And this… I used it gratefully.”

In Maylily’s politely outstretched hand lay a light blue silk handkerchief. After confirming the initials of his name delicately embroidered in silver thread on the neatly folded corner, Hugh placed the handkerchief in the inside pocket of his coat and spoke.

“A lover?”

“Pardon?”

“The man who brought you here.”

“Ah…”

Maylily’s eyes widened at the unexpected question, but a faint sense of relief spread across her face.

“That gentleman is Mr. Raymond Noteman, the composer of the opera I’m performing in. We were heading in the same direction after rehearsal, so he gave me a ride.”

Raymond Noteman. Even Hugh, who had little interest in music, was familiar with the name.

Though still a newcomer, the composer was more renowned for his illustrious family background than his own work. His great-grandfather had been a famous composer across the continent, and his grandfather and father had each been prominent pianists and conductors of their times.

The Noteman family, which had produced outstanding musicians for generations and amassed both fame and wealth, was one of the few commoner families that owned a mansion in the Aberque district.

And yet, same direction…

Was she oblivious to such an obvious pretext, or unaware that she was in someone’s grasp? Her innocent eyes grated on Hugh’s nerves.

“Maylily.”

The lips that gently called her name curved into a faint smile.

“Yes, Count.”

“Staying like this is making my neck uncomfortable. I’m not used to looking up.”

“Ah, in that case…”

Just as Maylily, flustered, glanced around, her eyes landed on a chair in the opposite corner.

“No.”

Hugh, who stopped her from stepping toward it, merely glanced downward with his head held high and pointed to the floor at his feet. As if grasping his meaning, Maylily blinked slowly. After a brief hesitation, she neatly gathered her skirt with both hands and knelt before him.

“Is this… more comfortable now?”

“Somewhat.”

On the pale face looking up at Hugh with a small smile, there was no trace of shame or humiliation, only the fear of facing a man who could take away what was most precious to her at any time.

That pitifully pretty face pleased Hugh again today. What made that satisfaction even clearer than before was that he had, of his own volition, finally found a fitting place for Victor Heywood’s daughter.

He had no perverse taste for wielding power to trample the weak, but he figured a bit of amusement from Victor Heywood’s daughter was acceptable, especially if it washed away the unpleasantness involved in settling Heywood’s sins.

Hugh lifted the chin of the bowed woman, making her look at him.

“I’d prefer if you refrained from associating privately with men from now on.”

“Do you mean… even situations like what happened on my way home today?”

Though naively ignorant, she wasn’t completely lacking in awareness. As if to praise that, Hugh tucked a stray lock of hair behind Maylily’s ear and replied,

“Yes. If you end up fooling around with just any man and get pregnant before achieving success, it would make my investment in you look rather foolish.”

The vulgar content was spoken in an oddly polite tone. As the ticklish touch brushed the rim of her ear, Maylily reflexively flinched and withdrew, her cheeks reddening in humiliation.

“I’m not the kind of woman who fools around with just any man.”

Of course not.

Because Maylily Aile was supposed to be the woman who fooled around with the man Hugh Skaard had chosen. Still smiling, Hugh opened his mouth again.