Chapter 26
Marry Me

The empire’s capital, Latz, lying south of Karlsbar, met the seasons earlier than elsewhere. While roses in Arvis were only just budding, here the entire city was already drenched in their fragrance.

Matthias realized it as he strolled through the crown prince’s palace garden. When he halted, the officers walking with him stopped as well.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

His answer was short.

“Nothing at all.”

He curved his lips into a faint smile, showing calm. Once Matthias stepped forward again, the brief stillness ended.

The young noble officers of the guard chatted easily, their voices bright with spring. Their talk circled, inevitably, around the same topics: how to spend this fine spring weekend. Parties. Horse races. Or spring outings with sweethearts.

“You must be lonely, Captain, with your fiancée so far away.”

The quip sparked laughter. Matthias joined in lightly.

At the close of last summer, the Herhardt Duke’s son and Lady Brandt’s daughter had celebrated their engagement in Arvis with great success. The announcement had consumed society gossip for weeks.

Yet Matthias had felt no true change. The very next week he had been posted to the Imperial Guard in the capital, while Claudine returned to her family’s estate near Karlsbar—a long way from Latz.

So, apart from the official label of “engaged,” little had shifted. During the social season, Claudine sometimes stayed at the Brandt townhouse in Latz, but that was nothing new. They still attended events together, just as before. The only difference was that now, they bore the title of fiancés.

“I’m finishing my service soon. What about you, Matthias?”

One officer asked, and all eyes turned to him.

“I may extend for another year.”

Surprise flickered across their faces.

“Weren’t you expected to return home, marry, and take up family duties?”

“Marriage… likely next year.”

“So society’s been wondering why the duke’s wedding hasn’t yet become the season’s great event. You’ve postponed?”

Matthias only tipped his chin. Not postponed, exactly. Things had simply unfolded that way. He wanted another year in the capital, while the Brandts wanted their daughter to begin married life in Arvis.

When the Brandts requested a year’s extension to the engagement, the Herhardts agreed. Claudine was still young, after all. Both families wanted everything about this union to be flawless.

Leaving the palace, Matthias returned straight to the family townhouse.

The old stone residence in the heart of Latz was the Herhardts’ most venerable home after Arvis itself. It was a severe, austere house, built for duty, unlike Arvis with its softer touches of generations of mistresses.

“The two ladies have arrived, my lord.”

His attendant spoke as Matthias stepped from the carriage.

“Mother and Grandmother?”

“Yes. They arrived this morning, to attend Her Highness the Princess’s wedding.”

Matthias nodded and entered.

The princess, stung by losing her claim to the duchess’s place, had rushed into her own betrothal—to a grand duke of a neighboring principality, no less.

“At last, Matthias!”

In the hall, Katharina von Herhardt spread her arms wide, her face beaming.

“We only see you when we come here ourselves.”

Elise von Herhardt’s greeting was, as ever, more subdued.

Matthias smiled in answer and moved toward them. Roses bloomed. It was an ordinary spring afternoon.

“This evening breeze is wonderful, Layla.”

Kyle leaned his bicycle against the fence and came smiling. Layla, who had just returned from the garden with Bill, turned at the familiar voice. Bill, shovel in hand, glanced too.

“Marry me.”

The words followed as casually as a greeting. Neither Layla nor Bill so much as blinked now.

“Hello, Kyle.”

Layla carried the leftover seedlings, smiling brightly.

“I won’t marry you.”

The gentle tone only sharpened the firmness of her refusal.

Tch.

Bill felt the sting in his own chest and sighed. But Kyle, long inured to rejection, only chuckled and began helping Layla with her work.

“All right. Today’s rejection noted. I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

“No. Don’t ask.”

“I will. Hearts change—today no, tomorrow yes.”

The boy’s stubborn cheer, unflappable and shameless, was perhaps the strongest in all the empire.

Bill hid his grin, watching the two of them.

Since late last summer, Kyle Etman’s proposals had persisted, season after season.

When he first heard, Bill thought it could only be one of two things: Kyle drunk beyond his tolerance, or mad. He hadn’t hit him with a shovel only because he assumed it would pass. But the very next day, Kyle had shown up with the same words, entirely sober.

And so it went. Autumn, winter, now spring—and every single day, the boy proposed. Layla rejected him each time. At first Bill encouraged her firmness, but lately he felt almost sorry for Kyle.

If it were just empty words from a besotted youth, Bill would have ended it with a shovel long ago. But then, last fall, Dr. Etman himself had come.

What if Layla could go to university, he asked. Bill had confessed his longing but also his financial limits. The doctor, smiling like his son, had suggested another path: if the children truly wished it, why not let them marry, and go together?

Bill had been speechless with gratitude. He knew what Layla meant to him, but he also knew how the world judged. For a doctor of Dr. Etman’s standing to speak so kindly…

Kyle had told his father, he said: Layla was the one who brought out his best self. He wanted to live his life by her side, as a good man because of her.

It stunned Bill, hearing that such words had come from the mouth of the boy who always loafed about the cottage.

‘If Kyle’s heart remains unchanged until next year, when paths must be chosen, I’ll give them my blessing. What about you, Mr. Remmer?’

That day, Bill Remmer had felt as though an angel in human form had descended into Karlsbar, into all of Berck itself. He had barely contained his joy, for Layla’s sake.

But Layla… what was to be done with that stubborn girl?

Resolving to think of something, Bill leaned the shovel against the shed.

“Matthias, you know Dr. Etman’s son, don’t you?”

At the dinner table, as the duchess droned on about the princess’s wedding, Elise von Herhardt lowered her voice. Katharina had retired early, leaving mother and son alone.

“Yes, Mother.”

Matthias set down his glass.

“Kyle Etman. The doctor’s only son.”

“That’s right. Word is, he’s to be married.”

Her tone hinted disapproval of the bride. Matthias waited.

“To a girl raised by the gardener on our estate. A foundling, I think her name was Layla.”

Layla. Matthias mouthed the name silently.

“A match hardly fitting for the Etmans.”

His reply was low, clipped.

“Exactly. It makes a mockery of your grandmother’s efforts to secure him a suitable bride.”

Her voice grew sharp.

Matthias stayed silent, and Elise continued, relishing the gossip. Mrs. Etman, she said, had opposed it fiercely, but her husband and son stood firm. Without intervention, Layla would soon marry the doctor’s son, move to Latz, and study at university with him. Summer was coming. The season of roses.

“Your grandmother was most disappointed. She always doted on Kyle.”

“Yes. She did.”

Matthias clenched his napkin, knuckles white.

“Mrs. Etman is pitiable, truly. A woman of such grace, now losing her hard-won place in society for the sake of a ridiculous daughter-in-law.”

She sipped her wine.

“No fine lady will befriend a woman who gives her heir to such a base orphan.”

“Perhaps the situation isn’t yet final.”

His voice was quiet, steady.

“They’re not married yet.”

“Come now, Matthias. If there were any chance, Mrs. Etman wouldn’t have taken to her bed. Dr. Etman is too determined, and Kyle is besotted. Head over heels, they say.”

Elise clicked her tongue in feigned pity.

“The girl is pretty enough, I admit. That’s the root of it. Letting him consort with her was a mistake.”

She rang for dessert, her words sharp.

“To claw her way into the Etman household like this—shameless. Or clever, perhaps.”

She shrugged lightly and took up her fork.

“But really, she’s not the greatest fool in this story. The greatest fool is Dr. Etman’s son, throwing away his family’s honor for nothing more than a girl.”

With that verdict, Elise von Herhardt steered the talk back to society news, familiar and dull.

Matthias sat in silence.

Layla.

The name lingered on his tongue, like the taste of wine.

Layla. Layla Llewellyn.