Chapter 14
Clumsily climbing to her feet, Irene lowered her head to hide her burning face and spoke hesitantly.
“I’m sorry. I thought no one was here…”
Whatever the circumstances, she was merely a guest staying in the detached residence. And this insufferably perfect man was the master of the estate.
An uncomfortable silence seemed to settle over her, weighing heavily on her shoulders. Just as Irene lowered her head even further—
“It suits you.”
“…Pardon?”
“Stay that humble.”
The proud woman immediately snapped her head up. For someone with such gentle-looking eyes, the flash of defiance in them made her seem remarkably antisocial.
A moment later, however, she quietly lowered her gaze again.
“Y-yes. Understood. Um… then I’ll be going. Have a good evening.”
She even became obedient.
Dominic watched in silence as she bowed politely before hastily scurrying away as though fleeing the scene. Then he spoke.
“Stop.”
Her shoulders jerked violently as she froze in her tracks. The reaction was suspicious enough on its own. Without a moment’s hesitation, he strode toward her with long, purposeful steps.
“Is… is something the matter?”
Suspicious. What could this woman have done?
Had she poisoned the flowerbeds? Or perhaps she’d been wandering the estate at night to plan some crime.
Maybe she had already done something and was prowling the deserted rear garden to destroy the evidence.
One alarming possibility after another filled Dominic’s mind.
‘What’s wrong with this infuriating man…?’
With her head bowed low, Irene fought the urge to burst into tears, her eyes darting anxiously from side to side.
The man standing before her was at least a head taller than she was. Just like in her dream, his shoulders were broad. On the warm summer night, the moonlight outlined the silhouette beneath his thin shirt with unsettling clarity. And why did the moon have to be so bright!
“Miss Vanderberg. Why did you come out to the garden?”
“For a walk?”
“At this hour?”
“Well… I couldn’t sleep.”
“And you just had to come out here?”
“I-Is… is there a rule against coming to the garden?”
The woman who normally spoke with easy eloquence was, suspiciously enough, stumbling over every other word. Dominic instinctively sensed that she was hiding something.
Perhaps because he hated anything complicated, he found people whose words and thoughts didn’t match particularly irritating. He could usually read others as easily as if their thoughts were written in the palm of his hand. This governess, however, refused to be so transparent. That alone made her strangely unsettling.
His cool gaze swept over Irene once more. Her plain dress did nothing to conceal her slender frame, giving her an almost shabby appearance.
Her unremarkable brown hair fluttered in the night breeze. Everything about her — the way she stood so tensely, those gentle brown eyes — made her seem utterly incapable of harboring any secret schemes.
That was precisely what bothered him. The fact that someone who looked so completely harmless could, beneath the surface, be full of nothing but dangerous, antisocial thoughts.
Should I never have let this woman into the estate in the first place? He narrowed his eyes.
Just then — Gulp. The sound of her swallowing hard broke the silence.
Irene stiffened. Her face filled with despair as she squeezed her eyes shut.
Taking a step closer, Dominic lowered his head and spoke in a quiet voice.
“While you’re staying at the Whitmore estate, I’d advise you not to keep any secrets.”
She flinched, then gave a small nod.
“…I-I’ll keep that in mind.”
He studied the visibly tense woman for a long moment.
Then, reaching up, he plucked a stray leaf from where it had caught in her brown hair behind one ear. With a smile that wasn’t quite a smile, he added,
“If you happen to acquire a secret despite your best intentions, confess it before it’s too late. A voluntary confession will go a long way toward determining how you’re treated afterward.”
A…confession?
A bewildered look spread across Irene’s face.
Confess what? That she’d read an obscene novel and come out for a walk because she was afraid she’d dream another erxtic dream about him? That wouldn’t be a confession. It would be harassment. Or perhaps grounds for a lawsuit.
“Yes… well. Understood.”
Answering with obvious uncertainty, Irene avoided his piercing gaze and hurried back toward the detached residence. Was it her imagination, or could she still feel his eyes boring into her back?
Returning to her bedroom, Irene shoved <Lady Scarlet’s Secret Hobby> beneath her luggage, hiding it completely from view, then let out a long sigh.
For a book that had been banned from sale, its cover torn off only made it look even more suspicious. At least it made an excellent prop to keep her travel bag off the floor.
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