Chapter 257

Chapter 257

“Oh… well…”

The maid frowned, clearly uncomfortable answering the question.

She had intentionally opened the door only a sliver when she entered, hoping to avoid questions like these, but her sharp-eyed mistress had noticed everything.

As the maid placed the tray of food before Deatrice, she hesitated, trying to buy some time, hoping a plausible excuse might come to her.

“Oh, have you seen this dish before? The chef’s been experimenting with new recipes lately. You know, those popular custard cream desserts from the capital? The ones set with various grains and coated with honey? They were first served at the Wingbet family banquet, I heard. Apparently, our chef used to know the chef of that household—though they were more rivals than friends. He’s been hearing all about their success, and it’s been getting under his skin. So now, he’s been holed up in the kitchen, trying to come up with something better. He even asked our opinion on a few of his creations. But he’s really hoping you’ll host a banquet soon, my lady, so he can debut these new desserts.”

But Deatrice wasn’t swayed by the diversion.

“Milly. I asked about the guards outside,” she repeated firmly.

Her commanding tone left the maid no choice but to sigh and confess.

“It’s… it’s nothing serious, really. It’s just that, well, the master instructed them to stand guard at your door when he left this morning.”

“Lucius did?”

“He’s probably just concerned about you. A lot has been going on recently, hasn’t it?”

“…Forget breakfast. Help me get dressed.”

Deatrice spoke quietly. The maid, sweating nervously, hesitated.

“But wouldn’t it be better to eat first, my lady?”

“I have something to check.”

She wanted to know what—or rather, who—those five guards outside were meant to protect her from. Reluctantly, the maid set aside the freshly prepared meal and helped her dress. Once dressed in a simple outfit, Deatrice immediately opened the door, her gaze sweeping over the guards standing outside.

One of them, who appeared to be in charge, knelt before her, one knee to the floor.

“Alfonso Oris, at your service. I’ve been assigned to protect you, my lady. It’s an honor.”

“Five men to protect me?”

“Ah… yes. Two will be on duty at all times, rotating in shifts. I’ve come today to introduce myself… Should anything be amiss, or if there’s anything that doesn’t meet your satisfaction, you need only tell me.”

“I see.”

Deatrice gave a cursory reply and turned on her heel, heading toward Lucius’ study. The guards followed her without a word. Their dark, imposing presence as they shadowed her through the narrow hallway seemed starkly out of place, yet the servants moved as if they weren’t even there, clearly instructed to ignore the guards entirely.

Lucius seemed no different.

When she knocked, he simply responded with a calm “Come in.” As Deatrice stepped into the study, he looked up from a pile of documents and greeted her with a smile, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“You’re here.”

Lucius rose from his seat, surrounded by towering stacks of papers, and greeted her warmly.

The study was cluttered with documents—papers were piled on every desk, chair, and even the floor. Deatrice stared at the scene, momentarily forgetting why she had come in the first place, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of paperwork.

“What is all this?” she asked, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

With a gentle smile, Lucius replied, “Documents concerning half of the duke’s estate. We’re rich now, Deatrice.”

He mentioned the duke without a trace of awkwardness. Deatrice frowned, her gaze sweeping over the room before she spoke again, her voice edged with irritation.

“Did my father hand it over like this? He could’ve just given you the mines, and it would’ve been enough.”

“No, I requested it this way. Smaller assets are easier to hide when it comes to securing wealth.”

“Oh.”

Deatrice let out a soft sigh, and Lucius couldn’t help but glance at her, gauging her reaction.

“Of course, I plan to ensure you live a very comfortable life. I just want to make sure there’s nothing I don’t know about. You’re not upset, are you?”

Deatrice frowned slightly. “Upset? You’re doing what you have to. And what does it matter what I think?”

“It matters,” he replied gently, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You’re my wife.”

It was his way of reassuring her, subtly suggesting that she should no longer define herself solely as the duke’s daughter. The comment, however well-intentioned, left Deatrice feeling conflicted and she stayed silent, lost in her own thoughts.

Whether he noticed her inner turmoil or not, Lucius continued to pull her closer, sitting her in front of him as he played with the strands of her hair that had come loose.