Chapter 67
Master of Arvis

“I pity Bill Remmer.”

The Dowager Duchess’s quiet words startled Elise von Herhardt so much her eyes nearly bulged.

“What are you saying, Mother? Because of that gardener, the greenhouse is in ruins, and you’ve been injured besides!”

“It’s not as if the injury was so grave, was it?”

“Good heavens, not grave? I truly don’t understand why you’re so generous with Bill Remmer this time.”

Usually deferential to her mother-in-law’s opinions, Elise’s tone held rare sharpness.

“Hessen warned him, and he ignored it. Isn’t that clearly deliberate?”

“We’ve known Bill Remmer too long. He’d never cause trouble on purpose.”

“And what about my dead birds? And your precious flowers, Mother?”

She rarely lost her composure, but now Elise was almost shouting.

“That’s not all. When the generator exploded, the electricity went out. Arvis’s year-end has been thrown into chaos!”

Her face flushed as she thought of the grand hall and dining room, useless now without their newly installed electric lights.

“And I told you we should never put those vulgar things in the house,” the Dowager muttered. She had opposed electricity from the beginning and showed no regret now.

“Of course I’m upset too. But punishing the gardener won’t bring any of it back. And he can’t possibly pay restitution.”

“But at the very least, it would set an example for the other servants.”

“You mean to send Bill Remmer to prison?”

“If he committed a crime, he must face the punishment.”

“Elise, Bill Remmer has served Arvis since before Matthias was even born. And if he goes to prison, what of Layla? That child depends on him alone.”

“We’re not obliged to worry about a gardener’s foster daughter. She’s grown now. She can’t remain a permanent guest in this house.”

Elise’s stance was unusually unyielding.

“Think of Claudine. You know how much she adored that greenhouse, Mother.”

“That’s true…”

“She even said she wanted to hold her wedding there! How devastated she must be. Even if repairs start now, it will never be restored in time.”

At the mention of Claudine, the Dowager faltered. It troubled her deeply that the place the future lady of Arvis loved most had been destroyed.

“If we let this go, we’ll lose order in Arvis.” Elise spoke each word with firm conviction.

“There’s truth in what you say… but I don’t know.”

The Dowager sighed and lay back into the pillows at her bedside. A maid hurried forward to adjust them for comfort, then retreated quietly.

“Perhaps it’s best to let Matthias decide.”

At this suggestion, Elise’s eyes narrowed.

“He is the master of Arvis, after all.”

“…That’s true.”

After a pause, Elise nodded.

“Very well. If Matthias decides, I’ll abide by it. I only hope he chooses wisely.”

When Layla entered the annex’s drawing room, Matthias was on the telephone at a side table. His aide, Mark Evers, gave a discreet signal, and Matthias finally turned his head.

One glance at Layla, and Matthias dismissed his aide with a nod. The call continued smoothly. Layla’s face grew tense—he was discussing the repairs for the ruined generator.

“Seems we’ve more work ahead,” Matthias said at last, setting down the receiver.

“Thanks to Remmer.”

The words carried neither anger nor pity.

“Sit.”

He lowered himself onto the sofa and gestured to the seat opposite. Layla shook her head quickly, swallowing hard.

Instead of insisting, Matthias crossed his legs with leisurely composure. Clinging to the faint hope that he might listen, Layla forced her trembling steps forward.

“I’m sorry. Truly… truly sorry, Your Grace.”

She bowed deeply. Matthias stared as though bewildered.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Please… forgive Uncle Bill. Just this once, I beg you.”

Her palms, clammy with cold sweat, pressed tightly together. She bowed her head again and again.

“You know him, Your Grace. He would never do such a thing intentionally. He didn’t even understand electricity, or what a generator was, or how to handle it. He told me, sometimes, that the noise in the shed gave him terrible headaches. That’s all it was. He never meant to harm the Dowager, nor the greenhouse.”

Her words stumbled, emotions catching in her throat, but Matthias waited patiently.

“I know words can’t undo such a mistake. But please—just once—please forgive him.”

Her clasped hands trembled violently, pale as paper.

“Layla.”

His voice was low, gentle. She raised tear-brimmed eyes to meet his.

“So what you’re asking… is leniency?”

Unable to say it herself, she nodded desperately.

“Leniency,” Matthias repeated softly. His gaze slid down to her shoes, caked with dirt from running to the police station. From there, up her thin legs in black stockings, to the hem of her plain gray skirt. Always these modest clothes, as if she were a nun, though he’d bought her finer things.

His head tilted, his gaze moving slowly—her checkered coat, the half-fastened buttons showing a red sweater beneath, the blouse’s broad collar, and finally her pleading eyes.

“Why should I?”

Layla froze, stunned.

“Why should Bill Remmer be spared?”

Matthias rose, unhurried, each word falling heavy.

“The generator exploded. My grandmother nearly died. The greenhouse lies in ruins.”

He stepped closer with every sentence, until he stood only a breath away.

“All this loss, and you ask for leniency? Why?”

“Your Grace, please…”

“If you beg, must I forgive all his sins?”

His long finger traced the edge of her blouse collar. Familiar. The same blouse she’d worn that autumn day, the one he had unbuttoned himself when she’d been struck by a carriage. Perhaps even when she’d stood with that shopkeeper’s son…

“And what are you?”

His voice was quiet, not cold, not forceful, but cruel all the same.

His finger lifted her chin. Tears spilled over, running down onto his hand.

“Tell me, Layla. What are you?”

The voice was too dry, too merciless to be mere posturing.

Was that autumn nothing but my dream?

Layla searched his face, tears streaming. She remembered—when he saved Phoebe, when he treated her wounds, when he sometimes laughed, even joked. Those unfamiliar, fleeting glimpses. But his eyes now, clear and hard like glass, held nothing.

Her lips parted soundlessly. Her body shook. Images tangled—Uncle Bill behind iron bars, the ruined paradise of Arvis, and the cruel man standing before her.

“You, who never took a thing without earning it—you think you can demand this, without shame?”

Matthias tilted his head, while Layla bit her lip, unable to stop her sobs.

“I don’t make losing bargains.”

“Your Grace, please…”

“But your tears and pleas aren’t worth the price of Bill Remmer’s guilt.”

“We… we can’t repay the damages… we can’t…”

“Restitution isn’t the point. A bargain is when you give what I want, and I give what you want.”

His hand gripped her chin firmly now.

“And that sort of bargain—I might accept.”

“A… bargain?”

“Yes. A bargain.”

His eyes roved over her slowly, as though appraising value. Realization struck, and Layla recoiled.

Matthias let her go, and strolled back to the sofa as though nothing had happened.

“You can’t!”

Her hair tumbled loose as she shook her head violently, her whole body trembling now with fury.

“You’re engaged to Lady Claudine. You’ll be married soon!”

“So?”

Matthias glanced up from dabbing his hand with a handkerchief. His eyes held no guilt, no hesitation—only weary detachment.

Layla staggered, pale as death. At that moment, the telephone rang. Matthias rose slowly, unhurried, and stepped to the table.

“Either way, the choice is yours. Decide as you wish.”

He looked at her, one hand resting lightly on the receiver.

“When you’ve made up your mind, tell me. I’ll respect it.”

“H-how could you…”

“Go.”

The single word dismissed her.

As he lifted the receiver and answered with perfect composure, there was nothing left of the man who had just suggested such a sordid bargain. Only the Duke of Herhardt, flawless and untouchable. To him, Layla Llewellyn was nothing. Nothing at all.

Breath ragged, she staggered out. The annex glowed with warm light, but to her it was all darkness.

Halfway down the outside staircase toward the pier, she collapsed. The frozen river reflected the pale moonlight, wrapping her small form as she curled in on herself.

At last, she had woken from her dream.

A beautiful, merciless nightmare.