Translator: Nox

Chapter 25

The texture beneath her fingertips was velvety, and the beige fur emitted a delicate, comforting scent. It was so soothing that Jacqueline felt she might succumb to sleep right then and there.

“Happy birthday once again, Benjamin. I am truly delighted to have met you.”

The boy’s eyes widened instantly, reflecting a shock so profound it was as if he had heard something impossible. Jacqueline offered a soft, warm smile and turned to depart.

“I shall see you later, then. I hope your birthday celebration is everything you wish it to be.”

“Thank you, Miss Somerset. …I am glad to have met you as well.”

The quiet admission reached her just as she walked away. Rather than turning back to look at him, Jacqueline simply offered a casual, elegant wave of her hand.

She was just crossing the corridor to return to her chambers when a sound arrested her progress.

“What in heaven’s name do you mean by that?”

It was William’s voice—a sharp, hushed reprimand. He sounded so uncharacteristically livid that Jacqueline froze in her tracks.

What could have happened?

For a man as impeccably poised as a storybook butler to lose his temper, the situation had to be dire.

Jacqueline glanced around before leaning over the balustrade, craning her neck to see below. The heated exchange was drifting up from the base of the grand staircase.

William was standing before a man who looked to be a member of the orchestra. The baton clutched in the stranger’s hand moved aimlessly through the air, looking suddenly useless.

He wasn’t merely a musician; he was the conductor.

As the butler’s face flushed a deeper shade of indignant red, the conductor bowed his head in shame.

“How can you bring this to me now? Do you have any idea what today represents? This is the celebration of Master Benjamin Preston’s birth!”

“I am painfully aware, sir.”

“And yet you intend to let it fall into ruin?”

“You have my deepest apologies.”

“And what good is an apology? The banquet is set to commence—do you honestly suggest we proceed without a piano? Do you imagine the guests won’t notice the void? If your goal was to humiliate the Preston name, consider your mission accomplished.”

“But surely, if a replacement were to arrive soon…”

“You should start looking for a new career!”

William’s threat was razor-sharp. Realizing the butler wasn’t exaggerating, the conductor’s face turned a ghostly white.

“William, what is the matter?”

Startled by the unexpected voice, William looked around frantically until he heard a soft whisper from above: “Over here—up here.” He tilted his head back.

“Miss Somerset!”

Ignoring his flustered gasp, Jacqueline leaned even further over the railing to get a better look.

“Please, be careful… you might fall…”

“Tell me, what has happened?”

William retreated a few steps so she could see him clearly. Only then did Jacqueline pull herself back to safety behind the mahogany rail.

The butler exhaled a breath of relief before his face twisted back into a mask of fury.

“The pianist was struck by a carriage on his way to the manor. Of all the misfortunes, his fingers are broken. It seems the orchestra is intent on sabotaging this evening.”

“Good heavens! Is he alright? Was the poor man badly hurt?”

William blinked at her, appearing to only just realize that the musician’s health was a factor.

“Hmph.”

He cleared his throat. In his estimation, the success of the banquet far outweighed the physical condition of a hired performer.

Jacqueline, however, looked genuinely distressed, worried for a man she had never met who had suffered such a tragic accident.

Attempting to hide his social awkwardness, William adopted a sterner tone.

“The immediate crisis is that a replacement won’t arrive for at least an hour. The banquet is scheduled to begin at any moment.”

“Oh, that is a problem.”

“Master Benjamin’s birthday will become the talk of the town—and for all the wrong reasons.”

“I understand your distress, William,” Jacqueline said, nodding with genuine empathy. Below, the conductor’s head sank so low it seemed he wished the floor would swallow him whole.

As she watched them, Jacqueline’s brow arched slightly. A spark of inspiration lit up her eyes, and she looked down at the butler with a bright, knowing expression.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance?”

“I beg your pardon? You, Miss?” William asked, his confusion evident.

She didn’t offer a verbal reply. Instead, Jacqueline vanished from the railing, followed shortly by the sound of light, rhythmic footsteps approaching the stairs.

William’s face grew increasingly bewildered.

---

When Windsor entered the drawing room, the early arrivals rose in a show of respect. He moved through the room, offering brief handshakes and the standard pleasantries.

“I appreciate your attendance.”

“Not at all—this is an event of the highest priority. No host should ever have to face an empty room on such an occasion.”

The drawing room, occupied solely by gentlemen, was thick with the heavy aroma of tobacco. After the initial greetings, the men returned to their seats, casting furtive, curious glances at one another.

It was a rare sight indeed to see Windsor Preston at a social function; in fact, it was nearly unprecedented.

While he had hosted small gatherings at the estate in the past, they had been rare and somber affairs during the period of mourning for Jeffrey Preston.

But this was Benjamin’s birthday, and Windsor’s presence was mandatory.

For the guests, this banquet was the ultimate chance to test the validity of the whispers currently plaguing high society—rumors suggesting that Windsor Preston was utterly ignorant of aristocratic decorum.

The source of the gossip was a mystery, but it had spread like wildfire. To many, it sounded entirely plausible.

After all, as the son of an opera singer and a career soldier, he lacked the polished upbringing usually required to navigate the labyrinthine customs of the ton.

As they spoke, they watched his every gesture like predators waiting for a sign of weakness.

“It has been some time, Lord Preston.”

“A pleasure, Count Saltrein.”

Windsor acknowledged the Count and took a seat with practiced ease. A tea service was already prepared on the table. He reached out and poured himself a cup.

—Ensure the stream of tea makes no sound.

Jacqueline’s instruction seemed to whisper in the back of his mind. A phantom chuckle threatened to escape him, but he immediately clamped down on it, his face returning to a mask of stoic indifference.

A few observers caught that fleeting change in his expression. They looked as stunned as if they had watched the laws of nature bend before them.

Lifting his cup, Windsor leaned back into the plush chair, his posture relaxed.

“The fragrance is quite pleasant,” he remarked tonelessly.

He took a sip. Every movement, every inflection of his voice, was perfect. The onlookers exchanged surprised glances, eyebrows climbing toward their hairlines.

“The Prestons would serve nothing but the finest. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Imported varieties are the current trend, but nothing rivals Noyard for sheer history. This possesses the distinct character of a Noyard harvest, I believe.”

“Noyard is exceptional, certainly, but in my view…”

—They are wealthy men with far too much time on their hands. They love the sound of their own voices. Just open the door, and they will talk forever. All you must do, Lord Preston, is provide an occasional nod.

—Are you sure it is that simple?

—I intend to prove my worth as a governess tonight.

Jacqueline had been utterly confident, and her assessment was proving flawless.

Windsor simply nodded as the conversation drifted naturally from the origins of tea to the specifics of tobacco.

His governess was indeed sharp, perceptive—and remarkably skilled at her craft.

“Now that I think on it, Lord Preston, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you enjoy a cigar.”

When the focus shifted back to him, Windsor set his teacup down, his expression unreadable.

“I have yet to find the appeal in them,” he replied coolly.

“A shame. You really are missing out on one of life’s finer points,” Viscount Jeffman said, shaking his head with performative regret.

Count Saltrein added with a smirk, “I was under the impression all soldiers were heavy smokers, but I suppose there are always exceptions.”

The room went deathly silent. Conversations died out as every ear turned toward the exchange.

Rather than reacting, the guests watched Windsor with bated breath. Only Saltrein, the man who had thrown the stone into the still water, remained unbothered, exhaling a slow cloud of smoke.

Just as the tension threatened to snap, Viscount Jeffman intervened.

“Hahaha! Actually, the recent shipments from Slenn have been surprisingly high quality. If you put your money behind the merchants importing Slenn leaf, you’ll see a handsome return—mark my words.”

He pivoted the topic as if the awkward moment had never occurred. The others were quick to follow his lead.

“I’ve sampled that. A bit light for my taste, but well-cured. Which firm is handling the Slenn imports?”

“Well, that would be…”

Windsor allowed the chatter to fade into white noise as he looked toward Baron Haines. The Baron, who had been looking rather bored, caught Windsor’s eye and straightened up.

“I understand your horse has been performing exceptionally well of late, Lord Haines.”

Haines’ face transformed instantly. The boredom vanished, replaced by an eager, bright-eyed enthusiasm as he leaned toward Windsor.

“How did you hear? Thunderbolt is finally showing his true colors! After a bit of a slump, he’s dominated his last few outings.”

Just as the Baron was about to launch into a detailed play-by-play of the races, the soft strains of music began to drift through the doors. A servant stepped into the room to announce that the banquet was officially beginning.

Baron Haines looked slightly crestfallen at the interruption. “You must visit my stables soon.”

“I shall.”

Windsor gave a polite nod and stood. The gentlemen filed out of the drawing room to collect their partners from the ladies’ parlor.

Those without partners made their way directly to the ballroom. Windsor followed at a steady, unhurried pace.

The scene was flawless. The music was enchanting, and the ballroom was a vision of opulence. Guests entered in pairs, their faces lit with appreciative smiles.

Here and there, children looked around with wide eyes, clearly vibrating with the urge to run, though they remained pinned in place by the stern, warning glares of their mothers.

Suddenly, William appeared at Windsor’s side. He whispered a few brief words into his master’s ear before retreating into the shadows.

Windsor’s gaze, usually so detached, shifted slowly. It came to rest on the heavy, dark brown curtains—the place where the orchestra remained hidden from view.