Chapter 78

Dylan was momentarily at a loss for words after the child spoke.

He didn’t know who Violet was, but whoever she might be, it was unlikely that anyone could truly compare to him, a duke and a member of the imperial family.

Yet, the child’s idea of someone being “amazing” clearly came from a different measure altogether.

Dylan couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh.

“…Thank you.”

When he finally replied with calm gratitude, as though accepting something inevitable, Agnes nearly burst out laughing. She lowered her head to hide her expression, her shoulders trembling faintly.

Noah, unaware of why the adults found the moment amusing, simply stared curiously at the horse. He finally reached out a small hand toward Nocturne.

His little fingers brushed near the stallion’s ears, then softly touched the area beneath them. Nocturne twitched his ears and leaned his head closer into the boy’s hand.

“Wow, why’s he doing that?”

“It means he likes your touch. You can keep petting him. Nocturne is very honest.”

“The horse is honest?”

“Horses have personalities too. Some are calm, others are temperamental.”

“What about Nocturne? Is he calm?”

“He used to be quite temperamental when he was young, but he’s mellowed with age.”

Agnes watched the two converse with a soft smile. Noah’s innocent nature seemed to make Dylan more at ease than usual.

Seeing his expression soften, she found the courage to speak.

“Um, Your Grace. I’m not sure if the north has this kind of custom, but… I prepared something small.”

Her voice was quiet and hesitant. Dylan’s gaze turned to her.

That steady blue gaze made her heart tense for no clear reason. She swallowed dryly.

“It’s nothing special. People think we married for love, so I thought it would seem natural if I prepared something like this. But even aside from that, Your Grace has done so much for me, and I wanted to express a little gratitude…”

Though she knew Dylan was not the type to misunderstand her intent, she still felt anxious as her words dragged on. Finally, she stopped and took something from her cloak.

It was a white handkerchief embroidered with the crest of House Vasteron.

She had debated whether it was proper to give it at all, since their marriage wasn’t founded on real love. But gifts like these weren’t limited to lovers. A lady might give such a token to her brother or father. And between husband and wife, affection didn’t have to be romantic to be genuine.

Even so, now that she was about to offer it, she felt suddenly self-conscious, wondering if it was foolish of her.

The brief moment she spent holding out the handkerchief felt endless. When Dylan finally reached out and accepted it, time seemed to start moving again.

“I didn’t expect you to prepare something like this.”

Her hesitation must have been obvious, because Dylan’s usually calm face showed a flicker of surprise.

“I know Your Grace is a skilled swordsman, but I still wanted to wish for your safety.”

Just as Agnes was about to regret her own boldness, Dylan smiled, a quiet and graceful smile that made her chest feel lighter.

“Thank you. With this, I don’t think I’ll suffer a single scratch.”

Agnes’s lips curved into a relieved smile. She was glad he didn’t seem burdened by the gesture.

Dylan set Noah down, folded the handkerchief neatly, and slipped it into his inner pocket.

“I’ll be waiting for your safe return.”

Agnes watched him with a small, proud smile before bowing politely and walking away with Noah toward their assigned table.

At that moment, Baroness Orwellin approached with a bright smile.

“Duchess of Vasteron! You truly came!”

Baroness Orwellin looked as youthful and kind as ever, holding the hand of her little daughter who resembled her closely. The warmth of the scene made Agnes smile naturally.

Baroness Orwellin spoke in a teasing tone.

“I saw you give your husband a handkerchief earlier. You really are newlyweds.”

At the word “newlyweds,” Agnes’s cheeks flushed slightly. She had explained to Dylan that her gesture had no romantic meaning, but to others, it must have looked like a sweet, affectionate act.

Unable to deny it, she simply smiled shyly.

“I only wanted to wish him safety during the hunt.”

“Oh, how lovely. I did the same once, though these days I only make them for my children and not my husband.”

Agnes chuckled softly at her playful tone.

“That can’t be true. Everyone in the north knows how close you and your husband are.”

Baroness Orwellin laughed merrily and leaned in to whisper.

“Exactly because everyone knows, I can joke about it.”

The honest remark made Agnes laugh aloud. That kind of open affection was something she’d never hear in the capital.

Baroness Orwellin clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh my, that’s the first time I’ve seen you laugh so openly. You’re even more beautiful when you smile. I almost thought I’d come to a debutante ball rather than the harvest festival.”

“Baroness, you’re exaggerating.”

“Maybe a little, but it’s still true.”

Baroness Orwellin giggled, her tone as youthful as her face.

“My husband said the forest was quiet today. Not a single decent target in sight. It’s supposed to be a friendly hunt, but what’s a hunting festival without prey? Such a pity.”

“Your husband must enjoy hunting, then.”

“All northern men do. But it looks like today will be uneventful. Since there’s not much excitement in the hunt, we ladies should enjoy chatting instead.”

Agnes nodded in agreement. While some might find that disappointing, she was quietly relieved. A calm day meant no danger.

Hunting for sport rather than sustenance always felt somewhat cruel to her.

Just as she was thinking that, Baroness Orwellin suddenly froze.

“Oh my…”

Her expression turned uneasy, eyes fixed on something ahead. Agnes instinctively followed her gaze.

Standing at a distance was a woman so beautiful that even from afar, it was impossible not to notice her.

Her pale blonde hair was neatly braided down her back, and her eyes shone like peridot under the sunlight.

She wasn’t unusually tall, but the way she carried herself in a training outfit drew attention instantly.

Who was she?

It took Agnes only a moment to realize.

For Baroness Orwellin, who was friendly with nearly everyone in the north, to look that startled, there could only be one possibility.

Count Peridot’s daughter, Marcella Peridot.

The sister of Dylan’s old friend and the woman who, for a brief time, had been rumored to be his potential fiancée.

Despite their once-close families, relations between House Vasteron and House Peridot had since gone completely cold.

Agnes’s assumption was confirmed when Baroness Orwellin gave an awkward, flustered smile.

“T-that’s strange. I heard she wouldn’t be coming because she was too busy…”

Agnes recalled the conversation between Baroness Orwellin and Baroness Arbil.

They had mentioned that if Agnes attended the northern harvest festival, House Peridot would quietly bow out, using some convenient excuse.

And since Agnes had already confirmed her attendance, the other noble ladies would have naturally sent word to the Peridots, whether directly or indirectly.

The fact that she hadn’t seen the Peridot family crest anywhere on her way here meant they had indeed planned to avoid this encounter.

So why was Marcella Peridot here now?