Simply because the Duke of Carlisle accompanied her, Juliet felt the shift in people's attitudes with crystalline clarity.
This was especially pronounced among the men, who attempted to pretend they didn't even notice her presence.
From the moment the Duke of Carlisle appeared at the tea party, Charlotte's husband—Viscount Greenwood—had immediately approached him and launched into a discussion about business affairs.
Juliet glanced at Lennox, whose expression remained cold and impenetrable. She worried that he possessed equally important work awaiting him back at the villa.
At this point, Viscount Greenwood—perhaps misinterpreting Juliet's expression—laughed and, affecting a tone of friendly concern, remarked:
"Ha-ha! I beg your pardon, Countess Montague. This must be terribly boring for you—hearing about men's business matters."
Juliet smiled sweetly and replied:
"It's quite all right. Your story isn't the worst thing I've heard in my life."
"…R-really?"
"Yes. Though it seems to me you possess a genuine talent for complicating simple matters."
The Marquis of Guinness had recently made a modest fortune in mana stone mining—and the Viscount had just been recounting this, though he spoke at interminable length and with excruciating tedium.
Besides, whether discussing mana stone mines or any other aspect of the Marquis of Guinness's enterprises, Juliet knew considerably more about such affairs than the Viscount himself.
Leaving Lennox among the men, Juliet approached Charlotte.
Drinking tea beneath blossoming plum branches struck her as remarkably romantic—and she enjoyed a rather pleasant time with Emma's elder sister.
Toward the conclusion of the tea party, Emma appeared carrying a book and offered to tell fortunes using tea leaves.
In those days, this was quite a fashionable pastime among the capital's youthful society.
The rules were extraordinarily simple: after drinking your tea, you interpreted the shapes formed by the remaining leaves in your cup according to descriptions provided in the book.
Emma, who was leafing through the fortune-telling manual with a serious expression, attempted to find a suitable interpretation for the pattern of tea leaves in Charlotte's cup.
"So—since the shape resembles a dove, you'll have a girl!"
"Emma, it looks far more like a puppy than a dove. And if it's a puppy, that means a boy…"
"But I *want* a niece, not a nephew!"
In truth, the interpretations were always approximate at best.
However, despite the highly subjective nature of reading leaf shapes, as long as everyone was enjoying themselves, no one was particularly critical.
"Now let's see what Juliet has!"
Emma walked briskly toward Juliet and peered into her cup.
"Oh—it's definitely a crescent! And is that a fish?"
Juliet examined her cup and indeed observed a leaf curved like a crescent moon.
"The crescent moon signifies first love, and the little fish… Oh, here it is!"
Emma, who had been diligently searching for the correct interpretation, finally located it.
"Juliet will be reunited with her first love and will create a happy family with a baby!"
Then Emma asked, her eyes shining with curiosity:
"Juliet—who was your first love?"
Juliet immediately recognized the trap and refused to fall into it.
"But that cannot possibly be accurate, Emma," she replied, smiling faintly at the clever interpretation. Then she added an explanation: "My first love was a man who stated he didn't want children."
"Why wouldn't he want a child?"
"I don't know the reason—he only said that I shouldn't… give birth…"
When Juliet glanced up at Emma, she discovered the young woman scanning the assembled guests with surprised eyes.
She clearly assumed this man was the Duke of Carlisle—and was now attempting to locate him among the crowd.
Simultaneously, Juliet regretted voicing something so careless. She quickly added:
"That man isn't here. In fact, I will never be able to see him again."
In other words, she was clarifying that it was *not* the Duke.
Juliet categorically denied any connection.
"…Oh God!"
Observing how shocked Emma appeared by her words, Juliet sighed with relief, believing she had successfully conveyed the correct meaning.
After that, Emma suddenly asked with a grave expression:
"So… he died?"
Only then did Juliet realize Emma had interpreted her words somewhat differently than intended.
*But so what?*
This might actually help disguise her slip of the tongue more effectively.
"That person does not exist in this world."
Technically speaking, her words weren't a lie. After all, Juliet had heard those particular words from Lennox in her *previous* life.
Emma, who appeared on the verge of tears, began mumbling apologies.
"Juliet—I didn't know. I'm so terribly sorry. I shouldn't have said anything at all…"
"It's quite all right, Emma. But I would appreciate if you kept this confidential."
It wasn't a story she wished other people to hear.
"Yes, of course… Oh my *God*!"
As she answered, Emma released a startled cry and leaped from her seat.
Glancing around to identify what could have frightened her so, a puzzled Juliet discovered a man standing directly behind her—staring at her intently.
"Well then—we'll leave you…"
As Charlotte and Emma—who was studiously avoiding eye contact—hurried away, Lennox slowly approached.
Juliet felt her nerves tighten when he materialized suddenly behind her.
*How much did he manage to hear?*
Depending on what he'd overheard, she could predict his reaction and adapt accordingly—but unfortunately, she possessed no idea how long he'd been standing there eavesdropping.
However, despite her anxiety, Lennox—who had been regarding Juliet somewhat awkwardly—suddenly said:
"Give me your hand."
Juliet extended her palm with a puzzled expression. She shuddered slightly when his fingers made contact with her skin. Neither wore gloves, so she felt the pleasant coolness of his touch directly.
"You have a fever."
"…Yes."
The temperature wasn't particularly elevated—it was one lingering effect of the recall that still hadn't fully resolved, following the butterflies' recent disappearance.
*So that's why my condition was better this time than previously?*
Lennox had touched her a few times before—but always as though accidentally.
As his mana flowed into her through their tactile connection, the heat gradually began subsiding.
Juliet, extending her hand to Lennox, studied him quietly.
Theoretically, it was possible to stabilize mana flow simply through skin contact. It was also true that the more intimate the contact, the faster the stabilizing effect would manifest.
But now he was attempting to achieve this result merely by holding her hand.
While he maintained his grasp, Juliet naturally began contemplating a question logical under these circumstances.
"……"
If you considered how he'd approached this previously, such matters were typically resolved quite swiftly with a single kiss—but how long would this particular procedure require?
Juliet didn't know whether to laugh or feel melancholy.
After all, she couldn't very well stand here with him all day holding hands, could she?
At that moment—as though reading Juliet's thoughts precisely—Lennox slowly traced his finger along the inside of her wrist in an unmistakably intimate gesture.
Juliet felt mildly embarrassed, acutely aware of the curious glances from surrounding guests turning in their direction.
"My condition becomes unstable easily because I lack mana."
"Who told you that?"
Ethelid, a wizard from the guild, had once explained this to her—describing her frequent illnesses. She didn't possess much magical power naturally, but strangely, mana perpetually overflowed within her.
"Someone mentioned it once."
Juliet didn't reveal Ethelid's name—she felt it inappropriate to inform Lennox about her acquaintance with the wizard. Besides, it was a personal matter with no connection to him.
"It's not remotely that severe."
"Hmm. Is that so."
Juliet chuckled softly at his rather generous assessment of her magical capacity. Lennox's eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, someone called Juliet's name.
"Juliet!"
A young lady wearing a wide-brimmed hat waved farewell.
"I must depart now—but we'll meet again soon!"
"I'm looking forward to it!"
Juliet smiled and waved in return, then briefly explained to Lennox:
"That's Charlotte—Ilena's granddaughter."
But Lennox required no such explanation. He already knew about Ilena's second granddaughter. Juliet had mentioned her multiple times in conversation over the past several days.
Lennox felt mildly surprised that Juliet—who rarely formed close attachments—had made a friend in mere days.
He watched Charlotte carefully climb into her carriage with her husband's assistance. Only then did he notice the woman was visibly pregnant.
"Is Madame Ilena's granddaughter expecting?"
"Yes. She mentioned the baby is due in spring," Juliet replied, then added with a gentle smile, "I imagine the child will be very adorable."
Observing Juliet's profile, Lennox asked impulsively:
"Do you still want a child?"
Juliet regarded him with momentary surprise—but then smiled and shook her head.
"No. Not anymore."
Though this was precisely the answer he'd hoped to hear, Lennox's mood inexplicably sank.
He found himself watching Juliet's expression without conscious intent. Suddenly, he asked:
"And why not?"
"Why?"
"Yes. You enjoy 'such things.'"
By "such things," he meant small, fragile, defenseless creatures.
As far as he knew, Juliet couldn't pass by if a helpless animal appeared before her. And if it looked pitiful—even better.
Lennox recalled who secretly cared for lost fox cubs each winter when they wandered into the castle seeking food.
So a child fit her preferences perfectly.
But Juliet suddenly laughed, as though his words struck her as absurd.
She immediately grasped that by "such things," Lennox meant adorable baby animals who had just opened their eyes and learned to walk on unsteady legs. She found this amusing. She also detected the hidden implication.
"You cannot possess everything simply because you like it."
Having answered thus, Juliet suddenly realized that whenever she mentioned liking something—even casually—to the man before her, he purchased it without hesitation.
Therefore, additional clarification was necessary. Otherwise, at any moment, he might do something completely irrational.
"What I mean is—even if you like something, it doesn't necessarily follow that you wish to acquire it."
Then Juliet's brow furrowed slightly as she continued:
"I would prefer not to discuss this any further. Let's leave it there."
"…As you wish."
Ultimately, even though he'd obtained the answer he desired by pressing Juliet, he felt some inexplicable discomfort settle in his chest.
Lennox understood precisely why he had been so eager to accommodate her over the past several days.
He was terrified that Juliet would eventually desire something he simply couldn't provide.
Juliet's butterflies couldn't enchant him—but it was glaringly obvious what he would witness if they could show him his worst nightmare.
*"We cannot be together because I want children. Goodbye, Your Grace."*
It would be the scene where Juliet departed from him with those exact words.
So he had assumed he would feel relief when she answered that she didn't want a child—but instead, he experienced something entirely different.
*"My first love was a man who said he didn't want a child."*
*"In fact, I will never be able to see him again."*
When he'd overheard this exchange, he hadn't known what he should do.
He still didn't know.
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