Chapter 10
But Tina never received an answer. She was practically dragged to the main house before she could press further. Expecting a response from maids who had always regarded her as a task to be dealt with quickly was a tall order.
‘It’ll be fine. They never clean my room. And it’s so small that even if someone does see it, it can hide quickly.’
Before she knew it, Tina was seated around the formal dining table with the members of the Petrov family, gripping her silverware tight as she tried to reassure herself.
“Yustina.”
A cold voice descended over the table. Startled by the sudden use of her name, Tina dropped her fork, and the grating screech of metal on porcelain filled the room.
“Didn’t your mother teach you not to pick at your food?”
“I-I’m s-sorry…”
“Hah.”
Count Petrov’s derisive scoff cut her off mid-sentence. He made no effort whatsoever to conceal his displeasure.
“Even if Marquess Gillion happens to enjoy that stupid— I mean, uneducated manner of yours, do you intend to act as though you’ve never learned the most basic etiquette? It seems you’re quite determined to drag the Petrov name through the mud.”
The Count spat in a voice frigid beyond measure. His finger, jabbed toward Tina as though he meant to stab her, trembled violently each time he raised his voice.
That Tina, having lived in isolation in the annex, could count on one hand the number of times she had dined at a table with others, and that she had never had a tutor to teach her proper manners, were matters the Count did not consider worth acknowledging.
“……”
Tina wondered if she should prostrate herself and beg forgiveness right then and there. But she already knew from past experience that her father did not enjoy having to look beneath the dining table during mealtimes.
“Dear, I’m sure Yustina understands by now. Besides, it’s not a broken engagement. The wedding is only postponed until the Marquess has fully recovered. If he still wants to go through with the marriage after all that happened, Yustina must have truly captured the Marquess’s heart.”
Right on cue, his wife spoke up with practiced ease. The Countess, who had slid her hand up the Count’s arm, did not forget to add: “All thanks to your excellent eye in finding such a match, of course.”
“Once we have the dowry money, we’ll have no trouble finding a match for our Sophianne, even among the most discerning nobles of the capital.”
When the Count’s expression softened slightly, the Countess smiled with satisfaction and continued. She turned in her seat to gaze at the person sitting beside her.
“After all, this child of ours is as beautiful as a single rose in bloom.”
And then, Tina had to calm her startled heart because Sophianne, her younger sister who had not participated in the conversation at all until that moment, practically jumped out of her seat.
Tina, who had reflexively looked up at the brief commotion, caught Sophianne hurriedly averting the gaze she had been fixing on her.
“That’s right. We must find our daughter a fine match.”
When Sophianne apologized and sat back down, the Count spoke in a tone so tender it was incomparable to the one he had used just moments before. He even instructed the servant standing nearby to bring warm tea, since Sophianne seemed startled. The very picture of a doting father.
“Yes… thank you, Father.”
Sophianne said stiffly as she accepted the tea. Yet her eyes kept stealing glances at Tina, a behavior whose reason Tina could not fathom.
After that, the conversation continued in a relaxed atmosphere. They chatted amiably about how the dowry from Tina’s marriage would be enough to revive the family business, and once the business expanded, they could take their time choosing Sophianne’s match from among the proposals already received from suitors.
The conversation did grow briefly heated when the Count brought up “those fools who heard about the Petrov family’s financial difficulties and dared to propose matches without knowing their place,” but fortunately, his anger did not extend far enough to reach Tina.
Faced with a conversation that thoroughly excluded her, Tina quietly pushed her thoughts elsewhere. It seemed the only way to avoid disrupting the family’s meal with an errant expression or stray breath.
And that was when Tina had begun counting the chickpeas on her plate for the sixth time.
“My lord! At the estate—!”
Without warning, the dining room door burst open. Beyond it stood a servant, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.
“There’s a m-monster of the winter mountain in the annex!”
The report came out like a scream.
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