Maylily - Chapter 53

“What do you think?”

Breaking the silence that had lasted several minutes, Victor spoke, and Viscount Dawson turned his head. Beneath the wrinkled eyelids, his dull eyes gleamed faintly.

Just as Maylily let out a quiet breath of relief from enduring the old man’s inexplicable stare since the moment she sat down, the viscount’s thin, wrinkled lips parted.

“Her face is tolerable enough.”

So this is how you plan to drive the price down? Victor gave a dry laugh loud enough for Dawson to hear, seeing right through the man’s petty bargaining.

“You’re being rather harsh. You must know you’d have trouble finding beauty like this even if you searched all of the capital’s social circles.”

“But your daughter isn’t a lady of society, is she?”

For an old man on his last days, who was about to take a woman younger than his granddaughter—and beautiful besides—he ought to be paying happily instead of picking at details to haggle the price down. The greed pooled in the sagging flesh of the viscount’s cheeks was disgusting.

“If that’s truly what you think, then I’ll have to find someone who can appreciate my daughter’s true worth and cherish her.”

Maylily, who had been quietly listening to the conversation across the table, flinched as if realizing for the first time what kind of meeting this was.

Meanwhile, the viscount, pressed by Victor’s unyielding tone, looked displeased but couldn’t bring himself to argue further. No matter what he said, he didn’t have the courage to walk away from this deal.

And that was no surprise. Where else could this old man find such a bride? The longer Dawson’s silence stretched, the more triumphant Victor became.

“Miss Aile.”

Fiddling with the many rings on his fingers, the viscount looked at Maylily again.

“Yes, Viscount.”

“Stand up, would you?”

Startled by the sudden command, Maylily instinctively turned to Victor. His face, urging her to obey with a slight nod, seemed strangely cold. Swallowing hard, Maylily rose from her seat.

“Over here.”

The viscount gestured to the open space beside the table. When Maylily stepped there, his eyes slowly scanned her from head to toe.

He examined her as if calculating her worth, checking for flaws. Even as he treated her like an object, his wrinkled eyes lingered shamelessly on her chest and hips. It was too lecherous, too filthy, for someone supposedly seeking a bride for his son or grandson.

“Now, turn around slowly.”

Even after obeying the order, Maylily endured his humiliating gaze for quite some time. When the food they had ordered finally arrived, the viscount clicked his tongue regretfully and gestured for her to sit.

Maylily sat down, feeling as if she had been drenched in filth from head to toe. She wanted nothing more than to flee this place at once, yet she couldn’t. She didn’t want to embarrass her father with rude behavior before a noble.

“I feel heavy-hearted thinking that you’ve reached the age of marriage yet still have no suitable match. It’s my fault, I suppose.”

“Don’t worry, Maylily. Before it’s too late, your father will see to it himself.”

Maylily hadn’t agreed with Victor’s guilt, but she understood it. Any ordinary parent would wish for their daughter to marry into a well-off family and live happily. That was the way most people lived.

Even if her father’s wish differed from the life she wanted, she didn’t want to reject or scorn the affection behind it.

But since she couldn’t follow that wish, she needed to make her stance clear again.

So just endure this meeting a little longer.

Calming her turmoil, Maylily set down the napkin she had been clutching tightly, picked up her spoon, and began eating her soup. Just as she forced the thick, choking food down her throat—

“You’re a virgin, I presume?”

As casually as if asking about the taste of the food, Viscount Dawson sliced a large piece of meat and put it in his mouth. Speechless, Maylily could only open and close her lips in disbelief, and Victor answered in her place.

“Of course. Just look at her, she’s clearly untouched by men.”

“Ah, she should be. The woman who’ll become my bride must be pure in both body and heart.”

As Maylily silently watched the viscount’s greasy, blackened lips move, slick with meat fat, her face turned deathly pale.

Clatter.

The spoon slipped from her trembling hand and hit the bowl, making a sharp noise. The viscount frowned deeply. Victor quickly turned toward Maylily.

“Be careful, Maylily.”

“…I-I’m sorry.”

Lowering her head in apology, Maylily hid her sweating hands under the table and gripped her napkin. She didn’t even have the presence of mind to recall that such behavior was improper.

The realization that the man they had in mind for her marriage wasn’t the viscount’s son or grandson, but the viscount himself, made her body stiffen.

Her resolve not to marry anyone hadn’t changed, regardless of who the man might be. But realizing only now that Victor had considered a man old enough to be her grandfather as her match struck her with unbearable shock. Her head throbbed as if struck by a heavy club.

Even if marriage was little more than a transaction in noble society….

Did Father really believe I could be happy with a man like that? Or did he ever think of my happiness at all?

Her thoughts spread rapidly in a dark direction, like oil-fed fire. Before long, Maylily found herself doubting even Victor’s true intentions in coming to find her.

Beside her, the two men began discussing the wedding date and expenses, but she couldn’t hear a single word. Her ears rang as though she were submerged deep underwater, and her vision blurred.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

As Maylily struggled to steady her uneven breathing, raindrops hit the window behind her like falling tears, streaming down without pause. Beyond the glass, the evening sky was swallowed by dark clouds that grew deeper in color.

***

The rain that fell across the southern and central regions of the Riverton Empire lasted all weekend. It was an unusual downpour for spring, a season when rainfall was typically light.

As a result, communication at the telegraph relay station located near the border between Riverton and the Cartia Kingdom was disrupted for a time. Naturally, telegrams exchanged between the two nations were delayed. Among them was one sent by the informant tracking Victor Heywood’s movements in Purdshire to David Curren.

The telegram, which would normally have arrived within half a day, took two full days to reach David’s hands. It was the evening of the eighth day since their arrival in Cartia. He was waiting at the hotel while Hugh attended a dinner with the Duke of Aemonta.

Heywood departed for Roden ten days ago. Mark injured.

After reading through the message, David folded the telegram and let out a shallow sigh.

“They’ve completely caught us off guard.”

To think that Heywood, whom they believed to be wandering aimlessly in Daymont, had already left for Roden. The cause of Mark’s injury was of little concern.

The crucial question was whether Heywood had discovered Maylily’s whereabouts. If he had, the reunion between father and daughter must have already taken place.

Of all times, it had to be now, when they’d just left Roden….

The timing wasn’t ideal, but David wasn’t particularly worried. He firmly believed that Hugh had already completed the most critical part of his plan before leaving Riverton.

All that remained was the final step. There was no need to rush. David thought Hugh would feel the same.

That was why Hugh’s decision upon hearing the news after returning to the hotel left him somewhat startled.

“We’ll leave for Roden tomorrow morning. Prepare everything.”

Hugh, who had taken off his evening coat with the help of his valet, spoke as he leaned lazily against the back of the sofa.

It was extremely rare for him to change his schedule on impulse. Could it be an emergency? Yet his calm gaze was as still and clear as the surface of a lake at dawn.

I understand him less and less.

With a faintly uneasy feeling, David stood beside him. “What should I do about the remaining schedule?”

Hugh took a long draw from the cigar his valet had just lit and looked directly at David. “You’ll stay behind and finish it.”

All schedules related to the Cartian royal family and high-ranking officials had already been completed during this business trip. Although there were still a few coordination matters remaining concerning the acquisition of the Almera Hotel, they were things David and the executive team could handle on their own.

Hugh knew that as well, which was why he gave the order as lightly as if handing over a suitcase.

Even so, David was a little surprised. It was the first time Hugh had ever delegated his work to him, except during their time in the military.

Hugh had always been a man who upheld his pride and dignity by remaining faithful to his duties as both a Skaard and an Everscourt.

For him to make such a decision… only one possibility came to David’s mind.

“Has the plan gone wrong?”

Hugh exhaled a thick cloud of cigar smoke, slowly shook his head, and slightly lifted the corner of his mouth. “I just want to make sure to say a proper goodbye.”