Chapter 321
It had been a long time since they’d had dinner alone together. Rosalyn had gone out with a friend, and Maya had disappeared off somewhere to spend time on her own. Tonight, Dehart was especially content, sitting across from Sebelia, who seemed even lovelier than usual.
Up until dessert was served—crème brûlée with a perfectly golden crust—he was easily the happiest man in the world.
“Dehart.”
“Hmm?”
Sebelia spoke as she tapped the crisp surface of her crème brûlée with her spoon.
“Can I ask you something?”
“If it’s something I can answer, anything at all.”
His gentle reply made Sebelia smile, a little embarrassed. Then she took aim and fired off the question she’d been holding onto.
“Where’s my present?”
It wasn’t just longing that had grown during his two-week absence—while he was away, she’d also heard every rumor about him, including the numerous scandals he’d supposedly sparked.
Doreen’s name came to mind—she was even considered the most credible of all the rumored women, supposedly because she’d had the most contact with Dehart while he was away.
“Your present, you mean…”
Dehart’s hand, about to break the caramelized surface, paused. Sebelia didn’t miss the brief hesitation. She couldn’t let him gather his defenses.
She sent her second arrow flying, straight for the mark.
“You said you’d bring back a jewelry box as a gift from your trip.”
Sebelia bit her lip, looking a little embarrassed to bring it up herself.
“I didn’t really want to ask like this…”
Dehart felt his heart drop—but he was a Duke for a reason; it took only a few seconds for him to compose himself and recover from his shock.
He offered a carefully measured apology.
“I’m sorry. I was so caught up with everything that I didn’t take care of you like I should have. I never meant to let you down.”
“No, it’s my fault for pushing you, knowing how busy you are. I should’ve waited a little longer.”
That last blow hit Dehart hard. He was horrified to hear her blame herself.
“Did I ruin the mood by getting ahead of myself…?”
If he just sat there after making her feel this way, he’d have no right to call himself a gentleman. Dehart jumped up and hurried to Sebelia’s side, taking her hand in both of his and looking at her earnestly.
“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. Tell me—how can I make it up to you?”
“There’s no need for that, Dehart. It’s not like you meant for this to happen… It’s just how things worked out.”
Sebelia looked up at him, her gaze saying, You’re not at fault here. Her innocent, almost childlike expression left Dehart speechless.
He was wracked with guilt.
What can I do?
How had this turned into her comforting him when she was the one who hadn’t gotten her gift? He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, shoulders slumping as Sebelia offered him comfort he hardly felt he deserved.
He let out a silent sigh and decided he had no choice but to adjust his plans. At this rate, he’d ruin any hope for a perfect surprise and only end up hurting her.
After a moment, he offered her a half-truth to clear up her misunderstanding.
“Actually, there was an issue with the jewelry box I picked out for you, so I had to send it back for repairs.”
“Really?”
Sebelia’s eyes went wide in surprise.
“Yes. Honestly, that’s part of why I went back north.”
“I see.”
Ever understanding, Sebelia seemed satisfied with his brief explanation. Her easy forgiveness touched Dehart—and pricked his conscience even harder. The guilt he felt for disappointing her seemed to exist only for her sake, and so it weighed all the more.
As he swallowed down that discomfort, Sebelia suddenly asked, eyes shining,
“Is that why you were meeting with all those young ladies?”
“That’s… Bella?”
She caught him off guard with that quick follow-up. He’d almost answered honestly before realizing something was off. Seeing her smirk as she pulled away, he understood he’d fallen right into her trap. Her hand had long since slipped from his grasp.
“You know, while you were up north, there were some very entertaining rumors going around here in the capital.”
The newspaper she slid towards him was filled with lurid stories about a certain highborn man’s supposed exploits. As Dehart read through the names of the noble ladies he’d allegedly charmed, his expression grew stony.
“I can explain.”
The man who crumpled the newspaper was no longer smiling. There was no attempt at dodging or smooth-talking—he met her gaze with genuine desperation.
But Sebelia had never actually wanted the truth.
“Starting tomorrow, don’t come looking for me for a while. Until I say otherwise, please don’t seek me out—unless we just happen to cross paths in the house.”
What she needed was a little time and space.
“And the annex is completely off-limits, understood?”
For Dehart, who had no idea why she’d drawn this line, it was pure torture.
“Bella, I can explain everything—how this all happened, every detail…”
But Sebelia shook her head, standing him up from where he’d already fallen to his knees in habit. The answer in her eyes was clear: No.
“Please don’t misunderstand, Dehart. I’m not blaming you.”
“Then why…?”
“I was the only one waiting for you this time.”
The confusion that flickered through his despair made her reach out, gently caressing his cheek.
“This time, it’s your turn to wait.”
Her voice was soft as she spoke, and Dehart’s face twisted with emotion.
“You’ll keep this promise, won’t you?”
Dehart could only nod, accepting his sentence. Because after all, he knew he was at fault.
“I promise.”
Sebelia smiled at his heartfelt, resigned reply. For now, she’d won herself a little more time.
* * *
“At this rate, we’ll never be done, miss.”
That day, Denisa, who had shown up early for work as usual, was helping Sebelia in the annex instead of the main house.
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