Maylily - Chapter 38

The man in the brown hat was scribbling something in a notebook.

Who could have sent him?

After days of agonizing over the matter, Victor had come up with his own answer.

Marcus Cobb.

That savage moneylender from Buhin must have been trying to interfere.

Selling him off as a mine slave would be far more profitable than collecting the debt. Everyone knew that, though human trafficking was illegal in Riverton, Buhin was a blind spot in the law.

The reason Victor left the tail alone despite his suspicions was simple. Trapped in Purdshire, even if he managed to shake off this tail, another, more skillful shadow would surely replace him. Better, then, to feign ignorance, lull the man into carelessness, and wait for the decisive moment.

Sensing nothing unusual from the tail, Victor withdrew his gaze from the window. He sliced into the steaming potato on his plate and placed it in his mouth, the potato’s mild sweetness mingling with the savory scent of butter to coat his tongue.

As Victor filled his stomach and considered his next move, the innkeeper, with no other customers to attend to, stood in the doorway chatting with a neighbor.

“That man had the nerve to spout such nonsense?”

“He’s the sort you couldn’t beat to death enough! And Jane just sat there and took it?”

Their voices, gossiping about a man who had cheated with a woman from the next village, were so loud it was grating. Victor’s brow furrowed, and he was about to snap at them when—

“By the way, Diane was here earlier. Turns out Daisy was with Maylily. She said she got a telegram this morning.”

The names he’d heard yesterday at the tailor’s rang in his ears one after another. Victor quickly closed his mouth and lowered his gaze to his plate. Beneath the pounding of his heart, he strained to catch every word.

“With Maylily? Then she went to Roden?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“My goodness, that child’s got some nerve. How could she travel there all on her own?”

“Daisy’s always been a bit of a troublemaker. Anyway, Diane came here making a fuss about looking for her daughter and apologized for the trouble. She asked me to pass along the news too.”

There was no doubt—it was Maylily’s aunt’s family.

That’s it. That’s it! Now it’s only a matter of time.

While Victor rejoiced inwardly, the women’s chatter wound down, and the neighbor soon left the inn. Having achieved his purpose in this remote place, Victor leisurely finished his meal.

“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but sitting here I happened to overhear…”

He explained himself to the innkeeper who had brought the bill, then asked for Diane and Jace’s address.

Though hesitant at the bold request of a stranger, the woman couldn’t outright refuse. Once again, Victor’s resemblance to Maylily lent his words credibility.

“You seem to be in some urgency, so I’ll tell you about the shop that couple runs.”

At last, the woman wrote down the name of Diane’s grocery and its general location on the back of the bill.

“Thank you. And if anyone comes asking about me or Maylily, please keep it to yourself. In business, rivals sometimes stoop to targeting one’s family, so I must be cautious. Once I find my daughter, I’ll be sure to reward you for today.”

With that empty promise to seal her silence, Victor left the inn and crossed the square. To avoid arousing the tail’s suspicion, he planned to wander the village a few more hours before leaving.

Soon enough, faint footsteps followed. As Victor stepped into a shadowed alley between rows of closely packed buildings, a sinister smile curved across his lips.

At last, the decisive moment had come.

***

“Quite the grand invitation.”

A dry sneer played at Hugh’s lips as he skimmed the opulent card, gilded with gold trim.

For a letter inviting men in their prime to gather and drink themselves senseless, it was certainly fitting. As if they took great pride in squandering their youth in debauchery.

“You know how the Young Lord of Cheshire is…”

At David’s reluctant words, spoken while standing properly before the desk, Hugh smirked in agreement. From between his red lips, holding a cigar, white smoke slipped out with a low laugh.

The sender of the invitation, Patrick Cheshire, was a man notorious for his noisy, disorderly indulgence in wine and women.

A college classmate of Hugh and David, he had long striven to make Hugh, unmatched in both appearance and background, his partner in pleasure, but the results had never been good.

David, who had watched Hugh up close in the university dormitory, knew that he wasn’t fond of drink and had no interest in women. Even when the sons of noble houses, bored with their smooth, uneventful lives, wandered in and out of brothels seeking primal thrills, Hugh passed his time with exercise or reading.

For a young lord who could have enjoyed anything he wished, it was a plain, ascetic lifestyle, enough to make one sense a touch of fastidiousness. No wonder he had earned the nickname “monk.”

As far as David knew, Hugh was a man who kept his manners with women yet drew a clear line, kind but never tender. As if his instincts as a man had been stripped away, leaving only his nobility.

That was why he couldn’t help but be continually surprised, watching Hugh deal with Maylily.

Was Hugh Skaard truly a man who could make such expressions, speak such words?

Between those unfamiliar faces, David’s nagging sense of unease rose again and again, and he no longer knew whether it was directed at Hugh or at Maylily.

Tok. Tok.

The tap of the invitation’s corner against the desk snapped David from his thoughts. Meeting Hugh’s steady gaze, he adjusted his glasses in embarrassment.

“Will you attend?”

“Well.”

Again, he seemed unwilling.

“You’ve already declined the Young Lord of Cheshire’s invitations three times this spring alone. Moreover, this time it will be a celebration of his birthday. I believe it would be wise to attend.”

Among Patrick Cheshire’s circle were many sons of houses that held sway over Riverton’s politics and economy. Even if one didn’t go so far as to form close ties, they were connections not to be disregarded.

No matter how great a man’s power and honor, in the end, it depended on the relationships around him.

Persistent whelps. If they poured that tenacity into something productive, they would be far more tolerable men than they are now.

Hugh drew deeply on his cigar, furrowing his brow, and when the smoke had all dispersed, gave a small nod. A satisfied smile spread across David’s face.

“A wise decision. And yesterday, a telegram arrived from the Duke of Aemonta in Cartia with an invitation to a banquet. They said it would take some time before the card itself arrived.”

The Duke of Aemonta was the one who had aided Hugh in securing his business rights in Cartia.

“The date?”

“May 16. Since your trip for the royal banquet in Cartia is scheduled to begin on the 14th, attending would be possible.”

Without a word, Hugh raised the cigar to his lips again. After a few seconds, he exhaled a cloud of smoke like a sigh.

“I want the departure changed to the 16th. Is that possible?”

David’s hand, holding a pen to take notes, faltered.

“…It’s possible. But then you won’t attend the banquet?”

“I’ll arrange a separate meal with the Duke after the ball.”

“Yes, understood.”

“And order a dress.”

At that command, out of place in the flow of the conversation, David looked slightly puzzled but answered without hesitation.

“Yes, understood.”

“You’re not going to ask whose?”

“You dislike unnecessary questions. And as far as I know, there’s only one person worthy of receiving such a gift from you, Count.”

At David’s sly remark, Hugh gave a faint laugh as he set the half-burned cigar into the ashtray. Even to another man, the long dimple that appeared between his elegant cheekbones and sharp jaw was always striking.

“Oh, one more thing.”

Just as David finished his report and was bowing to leave, Hugh added in a low voice, as if recalling something. And when David heard the command that followed, his face went pale with shock.

Whether born from false emotions nurtured by his single-minded obsession with revenge or not, when it came to Maylily Aile, Hugh Skaard exceeded David’s expectations far too often. To the point where surprise was turning into fear.