Chapter 5

Up to this point, Edith remained cautiously optimistic. Yes, the Duke had caused quite the stir at the New Year’s ball…

…but really, what was so outrageous about draping a coat over someone’s shoulders? Surely, such a gesture could be dismissed as no more than the gallantry of a gentleman towards a lady.

More pressing than the Duke’s eccentric display, however, was the reaction it had provoked, namely, the prying gazes and muttered judgments of the social elite.

Of course they would misinterpret it. A baron’s daughter from a nouveau riche lineage entangling herself with one of the highest-ranking nobles? That narrative practically wrote itself.

“Lady Hamilton, is it true? Is His Grace courting you?”

Suppressing a sigh, Edith set down her teacup. It was nothing, truly. But given who was involved, society had taken the matter with disproportionate drama. What sort of lives had these people lived, that they reacted like this?

Regardless, what had happened at the Hamilton estate, His Grace’s unsolicited act of "feeding" her, remained a private matter. Only her mother had witnessed it; no one else knew.

For now, denial was the only path forward.

If she let the rumors spread like wildfire, she could kiss her prospects goodbye, they’d scatter like dandelion seeds in the wind.

...And truthfully, she wasn’t equipped to withstand the sharp glares of all the ladies who idolized the Duke.

“Edith, dearest. Be honest with me at least. When did you and the Duke of Glassheart become so... close?”

The question came from the Marchioness of Campbell, her mother’s cousin and host of the afternoon tea. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity.

“Close? Oh, no, Aunt. You’re mistaken. The Duke and I are nothing of the sort,”

Edith replied hastily, waving her hands in dismissal.

“That ball was the first time we ever met. I only just debuted not long ago, after all…”

“True, there hasn’t been much opportunity for you to cross paths. The Duke only recently returned to the capital’s social scene.”

The ladies around the table nodded solemnly, lips pursed as though digesting a scandal far too rich for daylight.

“He’s never behaved this way before. Why now? Unless he truly has feelings for you…”

“Well…”

Caught off guard, Edith’s eyes flicked sideways. She knew her aunt, kind as she was, harbored pity for Edith’s mother, who had married into trade after the family’s decline. And despite the Marchioness’s efforts to sponsor her in society, she possessed one fatal flaw, an obsession with other people’s romances.

“Oh, so you’re slyer than you look. I wish Cassie took after you. But no, she’s always got her nose buried in some odd book.”

Edith mentally scrambled for a passable excuse.

“Perhaps His Grace is trying to amend his reputation for being... distant?”

A lie, of course. The Duke hardly seemed to care how others perceived him.

“Hmm…”

“Now, now, let’s take her at her word. She’s made her stance quite clear.”

Though initially skeptical, the ladies soon nodded along. Most were acquaintances of the Marchioness, and so they received Edith with outward friendliness.

“More importantly, have you heard the latest? There’s a new patisserie in the capital…”

At last, the topic shifted, and Edith exhaled silently in relief.

“Apparently, they sell only ten sets of scones a day, baked by a chef from Elanco.”

“Oh yes! There’s always a line whenever I pass by.”

She kept quiet, sipping her tea. Scones were the least of her concerns. The curse, that was the true issue.

“From Elanco? Then it must be good. I’m dying to try it.”

The ladies continued chatting with cheerful fervor.

“My lady… Pardon the intrusion.”

A butler appeared, cutting through the lively atmosphere.

“You have a visitor.”

The Marchioness’s brow arched in mild annoyance. Tapping her fan against the tea table, she muttered,

“Unless it’s urgent, tell them to come another time. Who arrives without notice?”

The butler hesitated, visibly uncomfortable.

“It’s… His Grace, the Duke of Glassheart.”

“...!”

A name no one had expected. Edith nearly choked on her tea. Every pair of eyes turned sharply toward her. Shielding herself with a hand, she felt her pupils tremble in panic.

“Very well. Show him in.”

The Marchioness gave a composed nod, and the butler departed. In those brief seconds, Edith’s mind raced. Surely, he hadn’t come for her, not intentionally. He couldn’t have.

But even as she prayed he hadn’t, a chill ran down her spine.

“There you are, Lady Hamilton.”

Of course. Her instincts had been right. The Duke addressed her directly, with no ambiguity.

“Your Grace, what brings you here…?”

The Marchioness’s tone held a teasing lilt as her gaze flicked between the two. Her thoughts were practically transparent.

Saying nothing at first, the Duke looked almost pained as he held something aloft.

“Forgive the intrusion, madam. I happened to pass a patisserie and thought of Lady Hamilton. I merely wished to deliver a small gift.”

In his hands was a dainty box, wrapped in a delicate blue ribbon. Every woman present recognized it at once, and gasped in unison.

The limited edition scone set.

“Goodness!”

“And you denied everything! How coy you are!”

As the ladies broke into a fluttering commotion, Edith squeezed her eyes shut. The parrots would have a field day with this.

“...Please, accept it.”

“...Thank you.”

Neither wanted this exchange. With trembling fingers, Edith received the box and forced a smile.

“Aunt, if you’ll excuse me, may I take my leave?”

“Yes, of course. Go on.”

With the Marchioness’s blessing, Edith gave the Duke a subtle glance. His footsteps followed hers toward the manor gates.

“What are you doing?”

“I went to such trouble calming the rumors, and now you’re fueling them all over again.”

Once they were alone, Edith crossed her arms, her tone exasperated. The Duke didn’t answer. Instead, he stared wordlessly at the sky.

“How did you even know I was here? And what’s with the scones?”

“I don’t know. My feet simply carried me here.”

Running a hand through his tousled hair, he continued,

“I was en route to the station when I noticed that shop. Next thing I knew, I was holding that ridiculous limited edition box.”

He sighed, his voice heavier now.

“This curse is worse than I thought. I had planned to return to the duchy, but now I find myself veering off-course, chasing after you.”

Edith’s face darkened.

“Wait. Are you saying… you can track me?”

“Not normally. But when the curse activates… I just know where you are.”

Her pupils dilated in horror.

“That’s… that’s horrifying.”

“Tch.”

The Duke gave a mirthless laugh, clearly offended.

“You think I want to show up like this? You think I enjoy being treated like a stalker? If anyone should be unnerved, it’s me.”

“Well… fair point.”

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t choose to be here. That damn fairy was to blame.

“I’m leaving. This whole ordeal is exhausting.”

“Wait! Aren’t you taking this?”

She held the scone box out to him. It wasn’t like he’d bought it out of any real sentiment. He should take it back.

“Do I look like the type to pine over baked goods?”

He scoffed.

“I hate sweets. Just eat it yourself. Or throw it away.”

“I’ll give it to Everett, then.”

“Suit yourself.”

Wasting food seemed wrong. Her brother would devour it without complaint.

“I’ll be going too, then.”

Her head still reeled from the fact that he could find her. Would this happen again?

“Wait.”

He grabbed her arm.

“Yes?”

“Where are you going?”

Why did he even need to ask?

“...Home?”

Without a word, he held out a hand. She blinked at him, puzzled, before cautiously placing the box in his palm.

“What now?”

“You regretted giving it away, didn’t you? If you want it back, that’s fine, ”

“Do I look like someone who’d mourn a box of scones?”

He thrust the box back into her hands, lips drawn tight.

“Keep it.”

“Then why did you hold your hand out?”

“To escort you.”

“...Excuse me?”

Coming from someone who had just been grumbling moments ago, the offer felt surreal. Since when did the Duke act this kindly?

“Get in the carriage. I’ll take you back to the Hamilton estate, damn it!”

Edith blinked in shock as he muttered under his breath.

“Why did I just say that like it’s the most natural thing in the world?”

His handsome face twisted in confusion. Of course. The curse again.

“Let’s just go separately.”

Crossing his arms, he tapped his fingers impatiently, as though arguing with his own soul.

“No, together, separate, toge—argh!”

Madness. In the midst of his chaotic spiral, Edith simply batted her lashes in stunned silence.

“Fine. Just get in. This won’t end otherwise.”

With a weary sigh, the Duke rubbed his face. Behind her, Edith felt a prickle of unease creep up her spine.

Just moments ago, she had been optimistic. That optimism now felt like a distant dream. Instinct told her one thing:

‘This was only the beginning.’

And the curse,

Was far more powerful than anyone had dared imagine.