Chapter 277
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
[You’ve fallen for a girl, I hear?]
Even my brother—who was stationed far away, serving as an officer at the time—must have heard it from our parents, because he wrote to me.
[Congratulations. So you’ve finally fallen in love for the first time. You’re growing up.]
Ted congratulated me, but he was worried, too.
[Father’s oblivious enough that it won’t matter, but be careful not to let Mother find out.
If even Mother admits she’s beautiful, she must be truly stunning. Write back and tell me what kind of young lady she is.
—Ted]
[To Ted.
It’s too early to congratulate me on a first love. It’s one-sided.
There’s no need to be careful about being found out either. I’m not going to do anything. I can’t even talk to her….
Still, she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Mother would be disappointed to hear that, but it can’t be helped.
You’d be surprised if you met her too. Don’t fall for her. I know you already have someone you love deeply, but ever since she arrived, more than a few boys who used to court other girls have stopped looking at anyone else.
She’s like a porcelain doll that can walk or a fairy hiding her wings. Ted, have you ever seen someone whose smile has a scent? I have. Every time she smiles, a sweet yet refreshing fragrance—like honey mixed with milk and lavender—tickles my nose.
You’ve probably heard Mother’s reasons for disapproving of her. Mother tends to exaggerate. She may have turned Miss Loveridge into some ill-mannered hoyden in her retelling.
Ted, that’s not true at all. Miss Loveridge is more refined and witty than most noble ladies. I haven’t seen her make a single mistake in etiquette.
In fact, perhaps she’s more perfect because she isn’t a noble. When a noble’s posture is sloppy, people excuse it as bloodline. But when a commoner errs, they immediately blame poor upbringing.
Maybe that pressure weighs on her. I sometimes see her secretly picking at hangnails or bringing her fingers to her mouth. She’s flawless from head to toe, yet her fingertips are a mess. She must be anxious….
You remember, don’t you? I used to do the same as a child. I was often struck on the hands with a ruler or a fan because of it. Seeing her do the same made me feel both fond and sorry for her. Whenever that happened to me, you’d take my hand. Does she have no one to do that for her?
I want to take her hand.
What should I do? Ted, I feel like I’m living through the best and worst moments of my life at the same time.
—Killian]
[Killian, you’ve truly fallen hopelessly in love.
But why are all your stories about watching her from afar?
Aren’t you curious about who she is on the inside, not just what she looks like?
If speaking to her directly is difficult, try writing a letter.
Perhaps Miss Loveridge has already fallen for your appearance and is curious about your inner self. Once she learns that you may look cold on the outside but are full of affection within, she might fall hopelessly in love as well.]
‘That can’t be.’
I shook my head as soon as I read the part about you already having feelings for me. It felt like seeing something I shouldn’t have. But the rest of his advice stuck with me.
‘Should I really write a letter?’
Writing had never been difficult for someone I couldn’t speak to. I assumed it would be the same with you.
Dear Miss Loveridge—
I hit a wall at the very greeting. What if the word dear alone revealed that I loved you?
It was a feeling I hoped to convey someday. But not in the very first word of a letter. I didn’t want you to feel burdened by the intensity of my feelings before I’d even begun.
How could a simple, conventional salutation give me away like that…?
Looking back, I don’t think I was in my right mind. Still, compared to the reckless things I would do later in life, drunk on love, this was nothing more than a faintly amusing anecdote.
In the end, I skipped the greeting and went straight to the purpose.
Miss Loveridge, I would like to apologize for startling you the other day. Were you hurt at all—
How foolish, asking so late. By then, any injury would have healed long ago.
As for what happened at the golf course—
I needed to address that incident as well, but not knowing how you felt about me, my pen refused to move.
I later heard that you and your grandmother had gone to see my mother after that incident. Naturally, my mother never told me what you said.
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