Resonance.
It had been a long while since the two of them had crossed paths. Yet when fate brought them together again, something stirred without need for introduction, a recognition born not of words, but of some remnant that had never truly faded.
What was I to do about that man?
Until now I had managed to keep his path from crossing Charlotte's again. That option was not yet entirely closed, only the risk had grown far greater.
If I kept forcing it, the resonance between the two of them might shift into dissonance.
Little by little, Charlotte would come to sense that something in her memory did not sit right.
That some part of it had been taken from her.
And that was not all.
Ian, too, had become a variable I could not afford to overlook.
Until now the boy had chosen silence, never once questioning the decisions I had made. But should he one day realize I had interfered again to keep Charlotte and Fabian apart, suspicion would take root quietly within him, and from it would rise questions that ought never to surface.
Questions about his brother.
The time had not yet come.
Not one of them was meant to know that truth. Not yet.
I could only hope their bond would not grow faster than I had accounted for.
"James!"
Irene's voice cut through the thread of my thoughts.
I let out a slow breath, then set the wooden bucket of chicken feed back in its place with careful, measured movements.
"Coming."
I walked toward her.
Irene stood a few steps beyond the farm fence, waiting for me with a smile I knew all too well.
The moment I reached her, she took my hand without hesitation, a habit that had never truly changed over the years.
Today, her grip was a touch firmer than usual.
I did not let go.
We walked side by side toward the house standing not far ahead.
"You were rather quiet earlier," she said softly.
"Yes. I drifted off for a moment."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Not thinking about that time again... were you?"
I did not answer at once.
She knew me too well.
It was true, shadows of what I had once done still crept in uninvited more often than I cared to admit.
But this time was different.
This was not about the past.
This was about Charlotte.
Irene stopped walking.
I stopped as well.
She released my hand, then raised both of hers and cupped my face gently, a gesture far too familiar to feel like anything foreign.
Her gaze was soft, yet not fragile.
"I already asked you to let it go, James."
"But..."
"That was long ago. I have already forgiven you."
"Irene..."
"Why do you keep punishing yourself over it?"
She offered a small smile, though something not entirely light rested beneath it.
"Sometimes it is I who feels at fault... because that memory still follows every step you take."
I shook my head.
"No. Never think such a thing."
"James..."
Her thumb brushed my cheek, careful, like someone trying to soothe something unseen.
"I have not entirely let it go either."
Her smile faded slightly.
Yet her resolve remained, unbroken, only changed in shape.
"But for the sake of our children, for our family, and for the love we have built together... I choose to release it, each time it returns to me in dreams."
My chest tightened.
"I am sorry. It was all my fault."
The words had not yet finished leaving me.
Her finger was already pressed against my lips.
"Enough."
Her voice was calm, but final. It left no room for argument.
"I have already forgiven you. So stop living inside of it."
The warmth of her palm gradually loosened the knot inside my head, like something that had finally found a place to rest.
I lowered my head.
Then, in a silence that asked for no permission, I kissed her briefly.
"Very well. I shall try."
Irene shook her head at once.
"Not try."
She pursed her lips.
That expression, though years had passed, remained just as endearing as it had always been.
"You must truly let it go."
I smirked faintly.
"Very well. The Beautiful Princess's command shall take priority."
Her smile bloomed once more.
"Good. My obedient Prince of Darkness."
We laughed together, light and easy.
More than a decade had passed.
Yet she still remembered that old nickname.
And for some reason, that simple realization felt heavier than it had any right to be, not painful, only... lingering too long in the chest.
As we resumed our walk toward the house, the unease over Charlotte, for the moment, began to settle.
***
Some time had passed since the maid brought our order.
I took a spoonful of the honey sweets and placed it in my mouth.
Soft.
Its sweetness melted upon my tongue, enough to ease a little of the tension that had hung between us since earlier.
At least, that was what I tried to do.
I pretended not to notice Fabian's attention, which had never once strayed from me since the start, and returned to savoring the sweets, one small bite at a time.
Yet the longer it went on, the harder that gaze became to ignore.
I finally set down my spoon and tilted my head slightly.
"Your Grace. Is there something on my face?"
Fabian had barely touched his own food again. Since the dishes had been served, the bites he had taken could be counted with ease.
Three times.
If he disliked sweets, why order such a dish at all? The question surfaced briefly before I pushed it back down, unspoken.
His ruby eyes remained fixed on me.
"Watching Lady Charlotte enjoy her meal proves far more captivating than the dish before me."
I frowned faintly.
"What could possibly be captivating about that?"
"To me, my lady remains lovely regardless. Even while eating. And..."
"And?"
"And perhaps a touch more... endearing."
The words fell from him without the slightest shift in expression. Precisely because of that, my face grew warm before I could stop it.
This man truly understood how to unsettle someone without ever having to raise his voice.
"Please stop saying such things, Your Grace."
"I am not attempting to charm my lady."
"No?"
I leaned back against my chair, keeping my tone even.
"Words like that are typically used by men fond of testing the limits of a woman's propriety."
"Testing a woman?"
"Precisely."
I placed deliberate weight on every word, not out of anger, but rather to see whether he would react at all.
Somewhere along the way, needling him had begun to feel like a livelier exchange than it had any right to be.
Fabian straightened in his seat.
Those red eyes seemed to deepen somewhat, without ever growing harsher.
I felt no threat from him.
Only something I could not quite read.
Truly, a strange man.
"My lady."
"Yes, Your Grace?"
"I do hope my lady is not searching for a reason to avoid my visit to the Handler mansion."
I flinched faintly.
The thought had indeed crossed my mind, though I had pushed it away almost at once, mostly out of concern for my aunt. If I truly failed to appear, the situation might grow far more tangled than I could imagine.
I summoned the smile I had long since mastered, neat, courteous, and utterly at odds with what ran through my mind.
"Of course I shall be present to accompany my aunt. I will receive Your Grace with proper courtesy."
"I am glad to hear it."
Yet my thoughts said otherwise.
I was not glad in the least.
Not today.
Not tomorrow either.
Even that invitation to ride had begun to feel like something I should never have agreed to from the start. Still, I knew it was merely my own displeasure, one better left unspoken.
Fabian slipped a hand into his coat pocket. A moment later, he drew out a blue handkerchief.
I found myself wondering.
What could that be for?
Without a word, he rose. His steps carried him to stop right beside me.
Too close.
Before I could put any distance between us, the handkerchief had already touched the corner of my mouth.
His movement was measured, almost too careful to pass as spontaneous.
My body went rigid at once.
I looked up without meaning to.
Our eyes met at a distance that had no business occurring in a public space.
A faint reflection of my own face showed in those red eyes.
Heat spread across my cheeks, without permission and without any reason I could justify to myself.
My heart began to race.
Though it was only fabric touching my skin, the sensation felt far more intimate than it had any right to be.
And yet we were nothing to each other.
Where had he found such nerve?
I stood at once, stepping back.
"Your Grace!"
The words left me sharper than I had intended.
My mind still lingered on that fleeting sensation from moments ago.
Truly improper.
Fabian studied me for a moment before finally speaking.
"Forgive me. I merely wished to clear away the last of the sweets from my lady's lips."
"I am capable of doing that myself."
"My lady."
"Please respect my boundaries, Your Grace."
I met his gaze directly.
"It is for the good of us both."
Without waiting for a response, I took the handkerchief from his hand. This time, I wiped my own lips, with movements far more controlled than his had been. Once finished, I held the cloth for a moment.
"I shall return this once it has been washed."
"Then I shall wait for my lady to come to my residence herself to return it."
I fell silent.
Even after all of that, his expression remained unchanged.
Too composed.
As though nothing that had just occurred deserved any reaction at all.
Truly infuriating.
Returning the handkerchief itself was no trouble.
What troubled me was the meaning tucked behind the way he had said it.
"Very well, Your Grace."
•
•
•
Whether it could be called hurried, I could not say for certain.
What I did know was that I had pulled Fabian into the tea house for no reason other than to escape the stares that clung to my skin like fine thorns. For a moment inside, the world had grown quieter. But that quiet did not last.
Now we were back out on the street.
We walked side by side.
Yet the unease that had briefly settled began to creep back in, quietly, without warning.
The eyes of passersby still followed us.
I wanted nothing more than to find a carriage and return to the Handler mansion as quickly as possible.
Even the sweets I had bought earlier with Dorothea and Amy had already slipped from my mind. So had the gift meant for Countess Welser, the one Dorothea had planned to deliver.
Today, my irritation toward Ian had shifted, little by little, into something else entirely. Toward Fabian.
This man appeared to have no intention of keeping his distance from me.
I began to wonder, quietly, what exactly I was to him.
Ironically, in some deep corner of myself, a strange comfort had begun to grow whenever he stood near. His presence felt far too familiar, so much so that my body always seemed slow to register whenever he crossed some line of propriety.
The sky remained bright. Dusk had not yet touched the horizon.
In the silence that accompanied our steps, Fabian finally spoke.
"Lady Charlotte."
"Yes, Your Grace?"
"Might I ask what my lady's hobbies are?"
I blinked briefly.
"My hobbies?"
"Indeed."
"Why would you wish to know that?"
Fabian turned to face me.
"Am I not permitted to know?"
Those red eyes caught mine again, calm yet difficult to read, carrying a curiosity that never quite declared itself outright.
I quickly looked away.
"Sleeping."
The answer slipped out before I could sort through it properly.
"I enjoy sleeping, lounging about, shopping, and eating as much as I please."
I paused briefly, then added with a somewhat heavier tone.
"Sometimes... my hobby also includes striking someone thoroughly irritating."
My hope was simple. That the remark, at the very least, would leave some crack in his composure.
Instead, Fabian let out a soft chuckle.
Not an open laugh. More a light response, one that seemed to grant no real weight to my words at all.
"I am glad to hear it."
I stopped walking at once.
Fabian followed, halting at the same moment.
"You truly are strange, Your Grace."
"Strange?"
"Yes. My hobbies hold nothing remarkable about them. Ian often calls me idle, since all I do is spend Father's money. Yet you claim to like them."
Of course, I was lying.
Ian had never actually said such a thing.
But a small falsehood before Fabian would change nothing. Besides, Ian was not here to contradict me.
"To me..."
Fabian answered calmly.
"My lady's hobbies sound simple. And it is precisely for that reason that I find myself fond of them."
I held his gaze longer than would ordinarily be proper in an everyday exchange.
And there, for the briefest moment, something seemed to shift.
A smile.
Not a courteous smile.
Nor one born of social obligation.
It rose naturally, without calculation, as though meant for no one but me.
My heart beat a little faster than before.
"Why?"
The question left me without permission from my own mind.
And without quite realizing it, I found myself waiting for his answer.
Fabian fell silent.
"Because..."
The sentence went unfinished.
He turned his face away briefly, like someone arranging something not easily put into words within the confines of his own thoughts, before turning back to look at me.
A small change crossed his expression.
Faint. Almost too slight to be called a change at all.
Embarrassment...?
Or something harder still to name?
Our eyes met once more.
"I could fulfill every one of my lady's hobbies."
He paused for a moment.
Then continued, his voice lower than before.
"And..."
I held my breath without realizing it.
"And what, Your Grace?"
Fabian had managed to stir my curiosity simply by letting his words trail off unfinished.
That man... was truly skilled at playing with words.
As though he understood exactly when to speak, and when to let the person before him remain caught in a continuation deliberately left incomplete.
But that was not all.
His actions proved even more dangerous than his words.
Too absorbed in my own thoughts, I failed entirely to notice someone rushing toward us from the opposite direction.
Everything happened within the span of a single breath.
Fabian's arm wrapped around my waist.
Before I could grasp what was happening, my body had already been pulled into his protection.
"My lady!"
The call rang out firm, yet laced with a worry he could not entirely conceal.
I had not yet managed to piece together any understanding of the moment.
The first thing I registered was, instead...
warmth.
The man's chest radiated a warmth impossible for my senses to simply overlook.
My face pressed against him.
Owing to the difference in our height, my head reached no higher than his chin.
A faint trace of cologne drifted into my senses, subtle, restrained, the mark of nobility.
Without realizing it, my fingers curled into Fabian's coat more tightly than they should have.
Meanwhile his arm remained wrapped around me, holding us both clear of danger with an almost mechanical discipline.
His hold was steady.
Unwavering in the slightest, as though it were something he had already calculated in advance.
"Forgive me, Your Grace!"
A man's voice called out from the roadside, trembling as he fought back panic.
"I lost my focus. I failed to see either you or my lady. Please, mete out whatever punishment is fitting, should it be required."
Only then did I grasp the situation.
The man had very nearly collided with me.
Most likely, given our position at the crossing, he had simply failed to notice my presence there.
But something else troubled me far more.
The stares of those around us.
One by one, they had begun to take notice.
It was already too late to pretend otherwise.
If I lifted my head now, I would only humiliate myself further still.
Without meaning to, I pressed even closer into Fabian's hold.
Truly improper.
Yet circumstance offered no better choice.
I even found myself wishing, for a moment, to strike the careless man.
Had it not been for him, this situation would never have twisted into something so mortifying.
Fabian's voice sounded again.
Colder this time than before.
"Consider this a warning. Should such an incident occur again, I shall not prove nearly so gracious."
His tone remained calm.
Too calm, and precisely for that reason, far sharper than open anger could ever be.
The air around us seemed to drop by several degrees.
The man bowed again and again in quick succession.
"Thank you, Your Grace. I am deeply grateful for your mercy."
"Go."
A single word.
Brief, leaving no room for argument.
The man withdrew at once, not daring to lift his head.
I could not say what expressions the people around us wore.
But one thing was certain.
Their attention had not shifted away in the least.
"My lady."
Fabian's voice warmed again, if only slightly.
"Your Grace..."
"All is safe now."
Safe?
For him, perhaps so.
For me, this could hardly be called that by any measure.
If there existed some way to escape these stares other than standing within his embrace...
Unfortunately, the capital's main road offered no such option.
In a voice barely audible, I whispered,
"Please have a carriage summoned."
"My lady."
"Please, Your Grace."
He fell silent for a moment.
"My lady's request shall be granted."
I let out a slow breath, though it brought no true relief.
Silence settled between us once more.
Fabian called my name several times.
Yet I chose not to respond.
Keeping my head bowed remained the only defense left to me.
Until at last,
"Lady Charlotte."
"The carriage has arrived."
I lifted my head slowly.
Still keeping my face from being fully seen.
Behind him, a carriage had come to a neat stop at the roadside.
"Thank you."
Without daring to hold his gaze any longer, I pulled myself free from his hold at once.
I quickened my steps toward the carriage.
"Wait, My lady."
I heard him.
But I did not turn back.
I stepped straight into the cabin.
The door shut.
Once the space had sealed me away, I opened the small window facing the driver.
"Please take me to the Handler mansion."
"Yes, miss."
The carriage began to move, orderly and even.
I never managed to look at Fabian one last time.
Nor did I know what expression he had worn in that moment.
I could only hope...
that my conduct would not be taken as an insult to a Grand Duke.
Or worse still, as deliberate impropriety.
I leaned back, my posture stiffer than usual.
Then, without realizing it, my fingers drifted to my waist.
As though some trace of warmth from his touch still lingered there, something that had no business remaining at all.
My heart beat out of step with the composure I ought to have kept.
If this were merely a nightmare disguised as reality...
I hoped I might wake from it soon.
Facing tomorrow already felt like a trial I had no need for.
I covered my face with both hands.
"Fabian... I hope you catch a fever tomorrow."