Chapter 36
But, So What?

“You summoned me, my lord.”

Hessen entered not long after the aide had left the study.

“What’s become of the thief who stole Bill Remmer’s money?”

Matthias asked with a voice still tinged with amusement.

“The police have come and gone, but without witnesses or evidence, they’re at an impasse.”

“And Layla Llewellyn’s tuition?”

“If the thief is not caught before the deadline, the Dowager Duchess has said she would gladly pay it herself. Lady Claudine has expressed the same intent, and Dr. Etman feels no differently.”

As expected.

Matthias tipped his chin and let out a low laugh as he set the file down.

Linda Etman was pulling the strings.

That was the conclusion he had reached from his morning encounter and the report on that pathetic man. He had thought she might have accepted her son’s marriage by now, but her determination was proving far stronger than he had anticipated. Not that her feelings had anything to do with him.

The interesting part was Layla Llewellyn herself. A girl who knew nothing, yet carried herself as if she knew everything. Perhaps he ought to start calling her a fool.

“If your lordship’s wishes are otherwise…”

Hessen, mistaking his silence for dissent, ventured cautiously.

“No.”

Matthias cut him off lightly.

“I respect my grandmother and mother’s wishes. I have no objection.”

And in that moment, he was certain—Linda Etman would have accounted for this outcome as well.

Her pawn was flimsy, bought with money, but her strategy itself was systematic and audacious. She wasn’t stupid enough to think no one else would step forward to cover Layla Llewellyn’s tuition. Surely her own husband would have done so if no one else.

So what, then, was the true aim?

Matthias brushed his chin thoughtfully.

If hiding the tuition wouldn’t stop Layla from attending university with Kyle Etman, why stir up such a commotion?

The puzzle intrigued him, and his crooked smile deepened.

“Assign someone to follow Mrs. Etman.”

He crossed one leg over the other, his face serene though the words were anything but.

“By Mrs. Etman, you mean…the doctor’s wife?”

“Yes. Linda Etman. The doctor’s wife.”

The answer was so casual it unsettled Hessen all the more.

“There’s only one thing I want reported.”

Leaning back against the sofa, Matthias smiled gently.

“Whether Mrs. Etman meets Layla Llewellyn, and if she does—what they discuss.”

The next morning the police returned. This time, instead of heading straight for the cottage, they came to the ducal estate. By chance, Matthias was just descending the grand staircase into the central hall.

“Good day, Your Grace. Forgive the intrusion, but it concerns the theft.”

The silver-haired officer leading them bowed with impeccable courtesy. Matthias stopped at the center of the hall. Behind him, Claudine and several servants also halted.

“They said they wished to attempt finding witnesses again,” Hessen murmured at his side. Matthias inclined his head in consent.

“Of course. As you wish.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

The lead officer bowed, and the younger ones hastily followed suit.

“Pardon me, Your Grace.”

The silver-haired man raised his head and addressed Matthias again as he was about to pass. Matthias turned back, his gaze steady and unruffled.

“On the morning of the theft, did Your Grace happen to see any strangers on the estate?”

He hesitated, but his tone remained respectful. Matthias turned fully toward him.

I did.

Instead of that simple truth, Matthias smiled gracefully.

He considered what he might do for Layla Llewellyn.

If Linda Etman’s desperate attempt to sabotage her son’s marriage were exposed now, the worst could still be avoided. There would be uproar, certainly, but matters would settle in the end. Dr. Etman and his son were resolute; the wedding would go on. At that point, even Linda Etman would have no choice but to yield.

And after that?

Matthias raised his eyes lazily to the chandelier.

Layla Llewellyn would live happily, blessed by fortune. In Latz, away from Linda Etman’s interference, she would study to her heart’s content. The doctor’s son would love her and cherish her. She was bright enough that she might even become a respectable scholar.

He let his gaze drift from the light to the family crest carved into the ceiling.

With a little effort, he could secure an even cleaner resolution. If he confronted Linda Etman first, she would know her scheme was already discovered, and for the sake of appearances, she would surely smooth it over quietly. That would spare Layla the brunt of the wound.

Yes. That would be the kinder path.

Matthias looked back at the officer. The man seemed tense, mistaking his silence for rebuke.

He knew what Layla’s happiness was. And for Matthias von Herhardt, ensuring it would be no harder than lifting a finger.

But so what?

His lips curved in a smile.

So what is your happiness to me, Layla?

What would remain for me is only a season when roses bloom without you. A flaw in my perfect world.

“No. I saw no one.”

His answer was low and dry. Relief washed over the officer—and the servants watching nearby.

“Ah, I see. Forgive me for the impertinence, Your Grace. I feared I had to ask.”

Matthias nodded graciously. Encouraged, the officer turned to Claudine.

“Did you perchance see anyone, my lady?”

“No.”

She replied without hesitation.

“Unfortunately, I have nothing that could help you.”

She glanced at Matthias, then smiled sweetly at the officer.

As Matthias resumed his descent, the suffocating tension lifted. The police moved on to question the staff, and Matthias stepped out into the waiting car.

“You haven’t forgotten our engagement this afternoon, have you?”

Claudine reminded him gently—it was tea together, followed by dinner with Riette.

“Of course, my lady.”

His answer brought her a satisfied smile.

The car rolled away from the estate. As they passed the lane toward the doctor’s house, Matthias’s gaze drifted to the window.

He hoped Linda Etman would prove entertaining. After all, for his small effort and patient watch, he deserved at least that much.

Linda Etman dressed in a sober lavender gown. Her makeup was light, her hat tasteful but modest.

It could not be ostentatious, but neither could it seem shabby. She checked her reflection carefully, then left her chamber. This time she would walk instead of taking the carriage.

This was not a meeting meant for watchful eyes. She had chosen the place with care and gone so far as to arrange meeting Layla directly at the cottage beforehand.

At the station, waiting for the stagecoach, she hesitated—but it was far too late to turn back. All she could do was go forward.

For Kyle.

The coach arrived. With a soundless sigh, Linda Etman stepped aboard.

For Kyle, she could do anything. Even if it cast her forever as the villain.

The tearoom she chose was tucked away from the bustle of the main streets. Layla arrived early and took a seat by the sunlit window, waiting.

Across the narrow lane, old brick buildings smothered in ivy stood in a row, their little shops faded and quaint.

The tearoom was no different—its awning bleached, its windows dull, its tablecloths blotched with ancient stains. A place wholly unlike Mrs. Etman’s usual taste.

Why here?

The thought made Layla uneasy, but she forced herself not to dwell. Worry only fed anxiety, and she was already weary from the theft.

No, surely the intent was only to meet privately, to speak without intrusion. There would be much to discuss, after all, and…

Her thoughts broke off at the chime of the doorbell. She leapt up, expecting Mrs. Etman—but it was only a young gentleman in a neat suit and fedora. He sat at a table across the room and opened a newspaper.

Layla sat back down, staring absently at the tea-stained cloth.

She had been to the police again today. Nothing had changed. With no evidence, no witnesses, the officers admitted it would be hard to catch the thief. One had whispered kindly that she should perhaps seek someone to lend her the tuition instead of clinging to false hopes.

Should she?

Dr. Etman, the Dowager Duchess, even Claudine had all offered. That morning Madam Mona had visited, promising the servants themselves would raise the money if need be. All had been so kind—and that only made the weight on her heart heavier.

Her sigh was deep, drawn from the pit of her chest. The bell chimed again. Layla stood, turning at once.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Etman.”

She managed a faint smile and bowed her head. This time, it really was Linda Etman standing in the doorway.