Chapter 66
A Broken Paradise

Another letter had arrived—this one rather thick.

“What will you do, Mr. Remmer?”

The postman’s low voice carried the weight of his complicity. Since autumn, and all through winter, he had secretly aided Bill in hiding Kyle’s letters. It meant he too bore the same heavy burden.

“You can’t keep this hidden forever.”

“I know.”

Bill nodded, sighing deeply.

“I’ll tell her myself. But to Layla… say nothing.”

“Of course. I won’t breathe a word.”

“I’m sorry, for dragging you into this.”

“Don’t be. I know you’re doing this for her. No one knows better than I how tangled your heart must be.”

The postman gave a knowing smile.

After all, he was the one who had once delivered the small girl Layla Llewellyn into Arvis. He knew better than anyone how Bill Remmer’s life had changed because of her—that his love for that child had remade him into someone far happier than before.

Once the postman left, Bill returned to his cottage with the letter. The house was empty; Layla had gone to work.

He opened the drawer where he kept the hidden letters, but this time, instead of placing the new one inside, he pulled the whole bundle out. If he confessed, Layla would be disappointed—angry, even. That frightened him. Yet he couldn’t go on with this deception forever.

He tied the letters with string and set them squarely on the edge of the dining table. Tonight, he resolved, he would speak. By leaving them out in plain sight, he would force himself to tell her. That thought eased him, as though a weight had lifted.

No matter what, it was right to let Layla choose. And whatever her decision, he would accept it fully.

After checking the chicken coop and picking out a fat bird for dinner, Bill strode toward the Herhardt greenhouse. He had just finished his usual tending of the flowerbeds and was heading to the shed to chop firewood when a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, Bill!”

It was the animal keeper, an old friend who had worked alongside him in Arvis for decades.

“The butler asked again—stop piling firewood by the generator.”

He laughed heartily as he spoke, but Bill scowled.

“Damn contraption thinks it owns the place.”

The estate had installed a generator when they brought in electricity—an ugly beast that churned out power with a deafening roar. To Bill, it was nothing but a nuisance.

“I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”

Still muttering, he pushed open the shed door, and the machine’s roar shook his eardrums.

“Damn it all! That racket never gets any better.”

He glared at the generator as though it were a sworn enemy. He and the Dowager Duchess shared the same disdain for the mad inventions of the modern world.

Deliberately stacking wood beside it, Bill built himself a kind of wall to dull the sound.

“Even louder than usual today,” he muttered, shaking his head as he hauled more logs.

The old days were better.

It was the Dowager Duchess’s constant refrain—and today, Bill found himself agreeing more than ever.

The children’s reactions to the start of winter break were split—some thrilled, some devastated.

Among the latter, little Monica wept hardest, soaking Layla’s skirt with tears before finally heading home. Even as she left, she turned back again and again, waving, sobbing. Layla kept waving back until the girl vanished from sight, heart aching at the thought of leaving her behind.

She would have to say proper farewells before she transferred.

Resolving that, she returned to her classroom to pack. Tonight’s dinner would need early preparation if she was to roast a chicken. She also planned to buy her uncle new socks, a sweater, and a good bottle of wine. Breaking the news that she would be leaving next term was bound to hurt him—perhaps they’d need a drink to ease the sting.

As she slipped off her slippers for her shoes, Layla chuckled to herself.

‘You think I can’t take them if I want?’

The Duke’s teasing words—spoken that night on the bench as he eyed her abandoned shoes—suddenly resurfaced. She still found it strange that he could say such a thing. She had thought him the sort of man who would never, even on his deathbed, utter a joke.

Perhaps it was the hush of the season, with the world blanketed in silence.

Their relationship, too, had been quiet lately. At first it unsettled her, but eventually she found relief in it. She wondered at the reason but chose not to dwell. Maybe he had simply lost interest. Which was, truthfully, what she wanted most.

Buttoning her coat firmly, Layla set off with brisk steps. She loaded her box of belongings into her bicycle basket, tying the larger parcels to the back seat with rope.

“Give Mr. Remmer my regards.”

The grocer smiled as he helped secure the load.

“Yes, I will. See you, sir.”

“Go safe, Layla! If you fall and smash that wine, old Bill will bawl his eyes out.”

Laughing at his silly joke, Layla pedaled away.

The wind was sharp, but the sunlight was golden and warm. As the town glowed with the brilliance of late afternoon, she thought: What a good day.

At least, until she neared Arvis and saw fire engines racing toward the estate.

“Layla! Layla!”

She stopped short as Madam Mona, face streaked with tears, seized her hands.

“What on earth is happening? Why is Arvis—”

Layla’s gaze froze on the smoke rising from the greenhouse.

“No… is it on fire?”

“Worse! The generator exploded and half the greenhouse collapsed—and they’re saying it was Mr. Remmer’s fault!”

“What? Uncle Bill? Why would—”

“They claim he caused the explosion somehow. I don’t know the details, everything’s chaos. But the Dowager Duchess was injured, and the whole estate’s in an uproar. The fire’s out now, but the police… they’re taking him away—”

“Uncle!”

Layla saw him then, being led toward a police car. His dazed face crumpled with panic when their eyes met.

“What is this? Uncle, tell me it’s not true! It’s a mistake, isn’t it?”

“It’s all right, Layla. Don’t worry. It’s nothing.”

He tried to smile, but his face was pale as death.

“Step aside, miss.”

The officer holding Bill gave a curt order. Layla didn’t move. His eyes hardened, and Madam Mona hurriedly pulled her back.

“Uncle!”

She cried out as Bill was shoved into the car. He gestured frantically for her to stand down, forcing a watery smile.

“Go home! I’ll be back soon, don’t worry. Layla…”

He tried to say more, but the officers pushed him roughly inside. Her desperate cries chased the car as it rolled away from Arvis.

Layla stumbled, collapsing where she stood. Servants rushed to her side and lifted her to her feet. Through her tears, she saw him—the Duke of Herhardt, standing at the bottom of the manor’s steps.

Their eyes may have met—she couldn’t be sure. Her vision blurred as hot tears spilled over, until she could see nothing at all.

Her sobs rang through the bleak winter evening, long after the commotion had died down.

With a hollow face, Layla left the police station. She had followed after Bill, but there was nothing she could do.

The accident was caused by firewood stacked too close to the generator, which overheated and exploded, collapsing the shed wall. The flying debris had shattered part of the greenhouse wall, and the Dowager Duchess—examining the flowerbeds at that very spot—had been injured. A maid had shielded her from the glass, so the cuts weren’t severe, but she had broken bones from the fall.

The famed greenhouse, once called the paradise of Arvis, lay in ruins. Rare plants and blossoms, destroyed beyond saving.

‘I know Mr. Remmer didn’t mean it, but an accident this grave can’t be excused as if it were nothing. The Dowager Duchess herself was hurt, after all.’

Even the sympathetic officer who arranged a visitation could only offer grim words.

‘Unless the Duke’s family agrees to leniency, there’s little we can do.’

He helped Layla to her feet as she wept, murmuring apology after apology.

‘If he’s sentenced, does that mean… prison?’

‘It isn’t certain. But lawsuits take time and money, and without proper compensation… well…’

He trailed off, unable to meet her eyes. That alone told Layla enough.

She returned to Arvis in a daze, barely aware of her own steps. The only hope left for Bill lay in the Herhardt family’s mercy. But would they grant it? The Dowager Duchess was injured, the beloved greenhouse destroyed. If she rushed in, begging blindly, she might only make things worse… and then Bill—

Her damp eyes lifted toward the manor, a faint light of hope flickering within.

The Duke of Herhardt.

If it was him… perhaps.

The man she had feared and dreaded all her life—yet who, last autumn, had shown her strange glimpses of something different.

Perhaps, just perhaps…

Clasping her hands as if in prayer, Layla trudged across the sleeping rose garden. Out of the forest, down to the riverbank—her breath came ragged as she finally saw it.

The duke’s riverside annex, lit from within.

Toward that light, Layla began to run.