Maylily - Chapter 41

Count of Everscourt smoked his cigar with an expressionless face, watching Maylily as if observing her. Judging by the way he leaned back in his seat at ease, he had no intention of stepping in.

Because the Count wanted to keep their patron relationship a secret.

Since that was the condition their relationship was built on, she couldn’t expect his help now. That was right.

Suppressing the surge of sorrow with stubborn resolve, Maylily clenched her fists tightly and faced Patrick Cheshire again. With the Count watching, she had to summon her courage if she didn’t want to look ridiculous.

“I don’t think that’s a reason for you to block my way, my lord. I’ve finished my work, so I’ll be going now.”

At Maylily’s unexpectedly dignified response, laughter and mockery poured out. As if to say, let’s see how brazen a common girl could become.

Ignoring it, Maylily tried to take a step, but Patrick Cheshire seized her wrist.

“Strange. Director Fritz said you had a patron, so why are you here selling songs?”

It was a question she had no reason to answer for a man she was meeting for the first time.

“Let go of my hand.”

When Maylily tried desperately to pull her wrist free while ignoring him, the large hand gripping her tightened with a vicious force.

“Is your patron such a worthless man that he can’t satisfy you? So you came to find a new one?”

“You’ve gone too far!”

The insult to the Count of Everscourt made Maylily snap back sharply without even realizing it.

“This has nothing to do with him. Isn’t it normal for a singer to sing in order to earn money?”

“It’s not a common sight for a singer with a patron to perform at another man’s party. Think about it. How unpleasant your patron will be when he learns you sang at my party.”

“….”

Struck to the core, Maylily blinked blankly, at a loss for words.

Was that what the expression she saw beyond the faint smoke meant? A belated realization swept over her that perhaps the very situation of the Count hearing her song tonight was her own fault.

“Since fate brought us together, stay longer and enjoy yourself. I’ll pay you as much as you want.”

“No! Let go of my hand.”

Snapping back to her senses at the tug on her arm, Maylily resisted, pulling her body back. But she had no strength to oppose a strong man. A third voice broke in at the moment she was about to be forcibly pulled into the arms of the drunken man reeking of alcohol.

“Why don’t you stop?”

At the low voice that reverberated through the air, the hall, filled with laughter and jeers, fell silent as if doused with cold water. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the Count of Everscourt, who set down his cigar and rose.

Watching him walk toward her with a straight posture, Maylily suddenly felt her eyes, which had been fine until now, burn hot. She bit her lips hard and turned her head away, not wanting to look any more pathetic.

“Hasn’t she made her refusal clear enough already?”

The Count forced Patrick Cheshire to release her hand, then looked down at the man who was half a head shorter than him, curving his lips. It was a smile that looked ruthless, because his eyes weren’t smiling at all.

Along with the Count’s looming shadow came a chill that made Patrick Cheshire’s glittering gaze return to normal.

“I just wanted to have a drink and a little conversation together. It’s not something to recoil from so extremely.”

He gave a bland laugh and shrugged his shoulders, as if the disgraceful antics that had driven Maylily into fear were nothing serious.

“If you need a woman to play with, call for a courtesan instead of a singer. Don’t invite me to such lowly gatherings.”

With his usual courteous tone, the Count delivered his rebuke and passed Patrick Cheshire, who was about to reply, heading straight outside. His back, disappearing into the dusk beyond the doorway, looked unusually broad and strong today.

“I’d forgotten the monk of Cromford was present.”

“As ever, aloof and solitary.”

Complaints began to burst out here and there, and the frozen hall quickly grew noisy again. To Maylily, who was still staring blankly at the door where the Count had vanished, David suddenly approached and whispered softly.

“I’ll escort you in the Count’s carriage. Let’s go together.”

At the familiar voice, Maylily came to her senses with a start and looked down at the clothes she was wearing. After a brief thought, she decided there was no time to indulge in changing clothes. She promised the club she would return the dress tomorrow, then followed David out.

***

This was a precursor to wrath.

The moment he saw Maylily stepping into his carriage, Hugh defined the thing that had been heating his chest for some time that way.

Hugh had rarely felt anger in his life, but it was not tolerance; rather, something closer to arrogance in restraint. If someone committed a wrong, he imposed a fitting penalty, and if they harmed him, he retaliated with more than they’d done. There had never been a reason to waste his mind on negative emotions.

No one belonging to Hugh’s world had ever fallen outside that principle. Maylily should have been no exception.

A mere woman like her couldn’t possibly make him angry.

Then what punishment should be dealt out?

To the rhythm of hoofbeats pounding against the heavy silence, Hugh looked down at Maylily’s pale chest, faintly trembling above the vulgar dress.

It wouldn’t be so bad to thoroughly lick clean the lustful imaginations and gazes twisted with desire and admiration that had touched that place, reaching even below.

Indeed, if he did so, his current unpleasant mood might be soothed. He would certainly do it when the time came.

“Count.”

Several minutes after the carriage set off, Maylily, watching the Count of Everscourt’s silence, finally spoke first. She didn’t dare meet his eyes, so she fixed her gaze on the tips of her shoes peeking from beneath her skirt.

“I’m sorry. Because of me, that… ah!”

Maylily let out a small scream in surprise at the force pulling her waist close. The Count, trapping her in his arms by turning her upper body, seized her chin and made her meet his eyes.

“You don’t need to apologize for Patrick Cheshire being a scoundrel. Why don’t you tell me why you were there?”

The Count’s voice was gentle, but there was coercion in the command. The hand that rose from her chin to cup her cheek was soft, yet the eyes fixed on Maylily were dry.

Was he angry? It was hard to tell.

“The truth is, my cousin….”

Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, Maylily slowly parted them and explained everything, from the day Daisy had come to her until tonight. Only then did the Count release her, closing and opening his eyes slowly as if to sort out his thoughts.

“Maylily.”

“Yes, Count.”

Still tense, Maylily heard the Count give a faint smile meant to soothe her.

“I understand your desire to solve your own problems, but a cheap stage like that doesn’t suit you. You’re someone with the talent to shine in a much higher place.”

“But… my reality is still here, in the low places. I want you to understand that this is the way I make a living.”

“Wasn’t it my role as your patron to help you rise above that reality? So from now on, bring any problem to me. Especially money matters. That’s the easiest thing for me to take care of.”

The Count gave the answer as easily as solving an arithmetic problem, but the calculations tangled in this relationship weren’t so simple in Maylily’s mind.

From the beginning, within the bounds of patronage, there could never be a completely one-sided relationship of pure charity. All the more so now, when the Count was courting her.

Knowing his feelings so clearly, it was hard to accept what he gave as mere patronage.

He must expect something too….

Would she be able to answer that expectation? She wasn’t sure. Fiddling nervously with her skirt hem, Maylily slowly spoke.

“No matter how much you do for me, I can’t give you anything in return.”

“Maylily.”

The Count gently clasped Maylily’s hand that was fidgeting restlessly.

“I can’t say my private feelings are completely excluded from this patronage, but I won’t force anything on you. Of course, if you were to offer a little in return, it would make me very happy.”

Lightly brushing her lips with his thumb, the Count raised the corners of his mouth and continued, “But even if you don’t, that’s fine. If you can sing as you are now, without getting hurt even a little, that alone is enough.”

Unwavering eyes, a plain, sincere voice, and the warmth of the hand holding hers.

Everything about the Count conveyed his genuine care for Maylily and her dream just as they were.

It was a sincerity she could no longer doubt.

The sincerity this noble, beautiful man showed made Maylily feel precious and special. Even without singing on stage, just by being herself.

She no longer wanted to push that heart away. No, she longed for it. No matter how hard she tried to recall her aunt’s face, her feelings for the Count could no longer be stopped.

In the place where the fear that had clung to her heart since meeting him began to fall away, a burning emotion surged forth. In that quiet passion, Maylily suddenly felt, for the first time, an impulse to kiss the Count’s gentle lips.