"What are you doing?"
A man stood in Claudel's room with his hand on her waist.
Of course, to teach dance safely to a noble lady, the dance instructor had tied a thick cloth around her waist for stability while guiding her through the steps. But in Kaian's eyes, it looked as though a stranger's hands encircled her slender body.
Her red hair was disheveled. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her cheeks flushed pink.
"Yes... ha... ha..."
Claudel panted, her cheeks tinged from exertion, her lips parted as she breathed heavily in and out.
Worse—three buttons on her high-necked Northern dress had come undone, exposing her collarbone.
*This person...*
The dance instructor immediately lowered his head in a deep bow, clearly noticing Kaian's presence for the first time. He didn't see the lethal glare directed at him—which was fortunate for the remainder of his life.
"Greetings, my Lord! I am Bankson, the dance instructor for the autumn festival. It is an honor to serve you directly and demonstrate my family's loyalty—"
"I asked what you were doing," Kaian interrupted coldly.
Bankson's nervous rambling ceased abruptly.
"I was teaching the Lady to dance," he said carefully.
"Like that?"
As Kaian's eyes fell pointedly on her exposed collarbone, Claudel hastily began refastening her dress buttons.
"It's rather warm, I suppose. I haven't exerted myself physically in so long."
"If you practice regularly, you'll acclimate, my Lady," Bankson offered respectfully, unaware that he was being observed with murderous intent by the Lord.
In Kaian's presence, Bankson showed appropriate deference to the Vermont-born Duchess—though the castle staff had long spat and cursed that it would have been better if everyone with red hair had disappeared years ago.
To Kaian, the man's politeness looked like the attentiveness of a predatory wolf trailing its prey.
"Excellent work," Kaian said coldly. "We must eat now. You're dismissed."
"Yes, my Lord."
As the instructor prepared to leave, Kaian turned to the butler. "Pay this man generously for today's work."
Bankson left moved by the Lord's apparent generosity, unaware that the generous payment also served as severance—his final payment.
---
Lunch was brought into the room.
"Ha." Claudel fanned her flushed cheeks with her hand.
Her rapid breathing irritated Kaian irrationally, making him feel anxious and strangely possessive.
"Present yourself appropriately," he said sharply. "You're a Duchess."
"I apologize. I was perspiring from the exertion."
In truth, Claudel wore a high-necked Northern dress made of thin velvet—hardly appropriate for Rowan's warm climate. Even without the exertion, it looked unbearably hot simply to observe.
"Are those the only clothes you possess?" Kaian asked coldly.
"Yes?"
"None from Rowan?"
"Ah..." Claudel seemed to consider this. She shrugged her shoulders and buttoned her collar. "The clothes I brought... there aren't many."
"Only Northern styles?"
She said nothing, which was answer enough.
---
Kaian's irritation, he decided, stemmed entirely from the impractical dress. There was no other explanation.
The butler's earlier words echoed: *"You only ever see your wife in the bedroom, don't you?"*
In truth, Kaian had never seen Claudel in anything but bedclothes and nightgowns. During her recovery, when they'd shared lunch in her chamber, she'd worn a loose layer over her nightgown. He'd never witnessed her in proper daywear.
*Now that I think about it, she wore that same dress on the picnic day.*
Hannah must have washed it after Claudel had coughed blood onto it.
But that day, he'd scarcely noticed what Claudel wore.
Today, however, the thin velvet dress designed for Northern summer made him irrationally irritated—especially the delicate fabric and soft fuzz on its surface.
"Discard it all," he commanded abruptly.
"All... immediately?"
"I'll arrange for Rowan-style dresses. The seamstress will tailor whatever else you need. Purchase a few urgent items first."
"Yes."
When Claudel acquiesced without protest, Kaian's irritation eased somewhat.
"Duke, are you... are you all right?" she asked hesitantly.
He glanced at his plate.
Every piece of meat was cut to fit Claudel's mouth—so finely minced it appeared almost shredded.
*...*
Embarrassment flooded through him. He immediately shouted at the butler lingering in the doorway.
"After lunch, summon the seamstress at once!"
Yet when he watched Claudel take a delicately minced piece of meat on her fork and place it in her mouth, his racing heart calmed. He sighed, somehow comforted by her acceptance of his care.
---
The castle's seamstress was an elderly, thin man.
"How are you, my Lady?" he asked as Claudel stood before the mirror, testing fabrics the seamstress recommended.
"The current trend is two-toned designs," he explained, holding up examples. "Dark fabric beneath with lighter lace overlay—or the reverse. The effect is quite different."
"It's beautiful," Claudel responded politely.
Hannah stood nearby, arms crossed, glaring at the seamstress with undisguised hostility.
This tension existed because the seamstress had been the one spreading rumors—claiming that Claudel had stolen the button bezel decoration from Kaian's clothing. The bezel Kaian had given her.
"If you have a preferred color, my Lady...?" the seamstress ventured nervously.
"Gold," Claudel said.
"Gold," Hannah repeated firmly, her eyes narrowing. "Nothing hidden. No obscuring decorations."
The seamstress, who'd worked in the castle for decades under previous lords, possessed both experience and strong loyalty to Temnes. He harbored a deep aversion to Vermont. When he realized he was being challenged by a young maid—Hannah—he became indignant.
"What! Why resurrect this now? Do you wish to quarrel?"
"Perhaps stop spreading frivolous rumors to the castle maids!" Hannah shot back. "You're simply growing old and spiteful!"
The old seamstress raised his voice. "Did I say something inappropriate?"
Yet even as the words escaped, he recognized the impropriety of shouting at Claudel's servant in front of his mistress.
"What is happening here?"
Kaian entered the chamber.
The seamstress immediately began to defend himself. "My Lord, I—"
"My Lord!" Hannah's voice cut through. "This seamstress is the one who spread the rumor that my Lady stole decorations from your clothing!"
The old man's face paled. "I—"
"Conveniently, he's right here. Please clear my Lady's name of this injustice!"
The seamstress, realizing he'd lost his advocate, stammered helplessly.
"She didn't steal it," Kaian said coldly.
"...My Lord?"
The seamstress's eyes widened. He'd been among the onlookers when the initial commotion had erupted near Claudel's door. He'd clearly heard Kaian's declaration then:
*"There's no way I would give something like that as a gift."*
Everyone had been scolded to cease making a fuss about it.
"I gave it to her," Kaian continued, his gaze boring into the seamstress with unmistakable threat. "It fell from my clothing and fit her fingers perfectly. Did you understand?"
The seamstress recognized the warning in that look—he would face consequences if he continued complaining.
He surrendered his resentment immediately, bowing deeply. "My apologies, my Lady. As I've grown older, my sight and hearing have failed. I spoke carelessly."
"You've served long enough," Kaian said coldly. "It's time you stepped away from castle affairs."
"My Lord!" the seamstress protested, but the butler's strong arms were already guiding him toward the door.
"He's worked faithfully," Kaian instructed the butler. "Ensure he lacks nothing in his retirement."
"My Lord, please just listen—!" the seamstress called back as he was escorted out, looking aggrieved.
An awkward silence fell over the chamber.
Kaian picked up one of the new dresses he'd had purchased—roughly sized to fit Claudel's frame.
"Try it on."
"Now?" Claudel asked.
"How much longer will you wear that impractical Valmonde dress?"
At his sharp tone, Claudel hurried to the dressing room with Hannah, closing the curtain behind them.
"Ugh, finally," Hannah whispered audibly. "My Lord is wonderful!"
*Why is she speaking so loudly when he can hear everything?* Claudel thought, mortified.
Yet she felt genuinely surprised that Kaian had immediately defended her—publicly declaring that he'd given her the bezel. The gesture affected her more than she expected.
*Did he care? Am I truly his wife?*
"Come out when you're ready," Hannah called. "Hurry, Lady!"
When Claudel emerged, Kaian studied her with critical eyes.
"Hmm. Not bad."
"It's pretty, isn't it, my Lord?" Hannah asked eagerly.
"Better than those tacky Valmonde clothes," Kaian replied.
Claudel suppressed a smile. *He's incapable of speaking properly.*
---
Valmonde remained cold even in summer, so summer dresses were made of thick velvet with fur lining. But Rowan was warm year-round, especially in summer. Here, women wore thin white fabric dresses with corsets to emphasize feminine curves, or lace gowns exposing the collarbone and shoulders.
Until now, Claudel's illness had kept her perpetually cold—even in Rowan's heat. She'd never considered changing her wardrobe. But as she recovered and began moving, she'd sweated constantly, embarrassed by her discomfort.
She was grateful Kaian had arranged new clothing—even if it meant enduring the seamstress's presence.
Yet seeing Kaian immediately dismiss the man who'd slandered her felt like a weight lifting from her chest.
"Take a turn," Kaian commanded.
Claudel slowly rotated.
"My throat feels... lighter," she observed, touching her exposed collarbone.
"The dress is thin and light, and the neckline is lower," Kaian noted, his gaze lingering. Unlike high-necked Northern styles buttoned to the chin, her throat was now gracefully exposed—perfect for displaying jewelry. "In the southern regions, necklace designs are diverse because of this."
"If something suits you, try it," he offered.
Claudel hesitated. "I'm tired from trying on clothes. Perhaps later?"
"I'll hire a different seamstress. Select what you need here and discuss everything else with her," Kaian said, already rising to leave.
"Thank you," Claudel replied.
He turned to Hannah. "Ensure you receive appropriate garments as well."
"Really? Thank you, thank you, my Lord!" Hannah's excitement was palpable.
Kaian observed her genuine joy, then his expression immediately turned cold as he departed.
*...That's strange,* he thought as he walked the corridor, unable to quite identify why Hannah's enthusiasm had irritated him.
---