Chapter 70

Agnes did not show it outwardly, but she was somewhat surprised.

Of course, Lady Arbil’s daughter had only expressed a pure admiration for the food she had tasted.

Since the Vasteron family had not attended such gatherings before, other noble houses must have freely interacted with Count Peridot’s family in the meantime.

Enough time had passed since that incident, so it was understandable that the young daughter of Baron Arbil might not know about the shadow between the two houses.

In fact, just a few days ago, Agnes herself had been planning to send a letter accepting Count Peridot’s invitation.

But except for that innocent young lady, the others could not hide their brief confusion and awkward smiles.

Noticing the tense air, Agnes curved her eyes softly and smiled with warmth.

“I see. I’ll look forward to it. It seems the northern families are close enough to know which household makes the best dishes. I’m truly glad to be in the company of such wonderful people.”

Her words both covered the young lady’s mistake and made it clear that she would not take issue with their prior association.

Baroness Orwellin and Baroness Arbil exhaled in relief and smiled back at her.

“The honor is ours. Unfortunately, Count Peridot has been busy with his daughter’s wedding preparations. But our chef is quite skilled at venison as well. I hope there will be a chance to present it to you someday.”

Baroness Orwellin spoke brightly, her tone cheerful as always. Yet hidden beneath her lively words was a subtle message: If the Vasteron Duchess attends, Count Peridot will surely decline the same event.

At the same time, she was indirectly letting Agnes know that the young lady once rumored to be engaged to Dylan was already preparing to marry someone else.

So the Duchess isn’t a difficult person after all. What a relief.

While Baroness Orwellin gracefully steered the situation, Baroness Arbil reached under the table and discreetly pinched her daughter’s thigh.

Watching the exchange, Agnes couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.

Once everyone was certain she was not offended, the table regained a gentle, comfortable atmosphere. Only the poor young girl, who had been pinched for reasons she didn’t understand, sat there looking uneasy.

While the adults’ conversation flowed calmly, Noah too was getting to know the other children, shyly greeting them one by one.

Baron Orwellin’s family had five children: two boys aged thirteen and eleven, a nine-year-old daughter, and a pair of five-year-old twins of different genders.

Agnes worried for a moment that Noah’s speech disorder had not yet fully healed.

But perhaps because the children were talkative and lively, or because they were slightly older, it didn’t seem to cause any real problem.

“Hey, these are the cookies from Arbil, right? I really love these!”

“I-I want one.”

“No, they’re mine!”

“Kai, careful! You almost hit Noah with your arm. Kaya, you too.”

Caron, known for being kind and caring, sat beside Noah, helping him with snacks while keeping his younger twin siblings from bumping into him.

Agnes smiled as she watched the scene. It was exactly the sort of sight she had always longed to see.

* * *

After some time, as the tea party drew to an end, Agnes rose from her seat with Noah.

The Orwellin children, reluctant to see their new friend leave, followed them all the way to the garden gate. Their small figures reminded her of ducklings trailing after their mother.

Baroness Orwellin escorted them to the exit, reminding her servants several times to take special care of their guests.

“It’s all right, madam. I had a lovely time today. To be honest, I was a little nervous since this was both my first northern gathering and my first visit to your estate. Thank you for making it so pleasant.”

Agnes spoke sincerely, and Baroness Orwellin’s face glowed with pride.

“Oh, my goodness! I hardly did anything at all. I’m simply delighted that you enjoyed yourself.”

The baroness hesitated, then added cautiously, “And… thank you for being so understanding about Lady Arbil’s little mistake. She’s not a bad child, only young. I’m sure her mother is giving her quite a scolding right now.”

“Please don’t be too harsh on her. Truly, it’s fine. If you’re comfortable with it, I’d love for the children to meet again sometime. Noah doesn’t have many playmates at the Vasteron mansion, so he might get lonely.”

“Of course! That would be wonderful. Though wouldn’t it be even better if you gave him a little sibling?”

Baroness Orwellin whispered the last part with a playful smile, as if sharing a secret. Agnes could only laugh politely, unable to say that such a thing would never happen.

Later, in the carriage, she asked Noah how he felt about the day.

Noah sighed softly. “It was busy. We ate, then they said let’s run, and then we ate again. Eat, run, eat again…”

His innocent, weary tone made Agnes burst into laughter. His small hand wiped his forehead as though exhausted, and she found the gesture so endearing that she reached out and patted his head.

She praised him gently for doing well, and the joy in her voice filled the carriage.

For the first time in a long while, Agnes felt that her future days among the northern nobility might actually be pleasant.

* * *

By the fifth night, a rhythm that had once felt awkward now seemed familiar.

After Dylan finished drinking her blood, he applied ointment to her wrist and wrapped it neatly with clean gauze.

In the past, they would each return to their own rooms after this. But ever since they began sharing a bedroom, a faint awkwardness lingered in the air.

To ease it, they often exchanged small, trivial conversations each night after the ritual was done.

Fortunately, tonight Agnes had something to talk about. In a light tone, she told him about attending the tea party at Baron Orwellin’s estate.

“Baroness Orwellin is such a lively woman. She’s meticulous too, always making sure everyone feels comfortable. She’s truly kind.”

Thinking back, she realized that the baroness’s eldest son, Caron, though more reserved, clearly shared that same gentle nature.

Agnes smiled at the memory of the warm, cheerful atmosphere. Then she recalled Lady Arbil’s remark about the northern harvest festival.

“I heard there’s a separate harvest festival in the north. What does the Vasteron family usually do for it?”

“If His Majesty summons us, we attend the capital’s harvest festival. If not, we remain here.”

“In the north as well?”

“Yes.”

Dylan tied off the bandage around her wrist, then added a few more words, perhaps thinking his answer too brief.

“You may attend if you wish. However, this year His Majesty will likely invite us.”

That made sense. The Emperor’s curiosity about the Duke and Duchess of Vasteron was well known, and though it sounded strange, his interest carried a twisted kind of affection.

He was surely wondering whether the couple still lived harmoniously after marriage.

“Then of course we should attend the capital’s festival.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

Though it was the expected response, Dylan still offered his gratitude in a quiet voice.

When he finished tending to her wound, he gently lowered her arm to rest near her lap.

Agnes rubbed the spot absently, feeling a faint soreness beneath the bandage.

Dylan almost asked if it hurt but stopped himself. It was a foolish question; of course it did. Instead, he brought up what he had heard from Gavelin.

“I heard Count Peridot’s family sent an invitation.”

“Ah, yes. I haven’t replied yet. I plan to decline politely later.”

Agnes glanced at his expression carefully.

The history between Dylan and Count Peridot’s family was nothing short of tragic.

She worried that even mentioning them might reopen old wounds.

Sensing her concern, Dylan gave a faint, weary laugh, uncharacteristically soft.

“Yes, declining would be best. But if you happen to meet them by chance, you don’t need to avoid them or act coldly. I imagine they would do the same.”

His words deepened the unease Agnes had been feeling since that afternoon.

From what Gavelin told her, Dylan and the Peridot heir had once been close friends whose conflict had ended only in death.

If that was true, the two houses should have been bitter enemies. So why would they send an invitation to the new duchess?

Could it be that what happened wasn’t simply betrayal?