Chapter 15
After pressuring the maids enough, Helena finally managed to change clothes and pin up her hair.
She disliked every part of it—the outfit, the hairstyle, all of it—but there was no helping it. Teaching these ignorant country women how to properly handle such things would take ages. Right now, meeting the former steward was far more urgent.
As Helena headed toward the stables, she ran into Sir Aaron, who looked as though he had just returned from somewhere.
Aaron Nix, Benjamin’s lieutenant, was a handsome man with brilliant blond hair, drooping eyes that gave him a gentle, persuasive look, and vivid blue eyes. Compared to Benjamin, he was smaller and far less intimidating, and his speech was softer as well. During the hellish journey, he had at least been someone she could converse with.
Of course, converse only. Helena did not trust this man either.
After all, Aaron was the very knight who had enthusiastically gossiped about her with Benjamin on the terrace of the Winston estate.
Aaron broke into a bright smile as he greeted her.
“Well, if it isn’t the new Countess of Ishpern! My lady, did you sleep well last night?”
Hearing that, Helena nearly vomited mid-step.
With the same expression she had worn while staring at the socks hidden under the bed, she shot back sharply,
“What?”
Seeing her expression, Aaron quickly changed his form of address.
“Lady Helena, where are you rushing off to? There’s nothing this way except horses and horse dung.”
Helena looked at him with suddenly softened eyes and replied sweetly,
“I have no business with the count, but I do need a horse. There’s somewhere I must go.”
Aaron, who had just removed his hat and was holding it in one hand, whistled softly, spun the hat once, then placed it back on his head.
“I only just returned myself, but I can’t let a noble lady travel alone. Allow me to accompany you.”
Helena had been about to snap that she had no need for “Horse Dung Number Two,” but she changed her mind.
She did not know the geography of the area well, and the roads were likely rough. Bringing a knight along would be better than traveling alone as a woman.
With feigned pride, Helena replied,
“I would refuse anyone else, but since it’s Sir Aaron, I’ll grant special permission.”
“The honor is mine.”
Aaron led her to the stable. He brought out a gentle-looking mare and saddled it for her.
Then, naturally extending his hand, he helped Helena mount by letting her step on it.
“Hm.”
Watching him gracefully mount his own horse, Helena spoke.
“Are all mercenaries from the South as kind to women as you are? Or are you simply exceptional?”
Hearing her indirect question about his origins, Aaron chuckled.
“I’m not from any remarkable family. But when I was young, I was practically raised by my sisters. They always emphasized one thing: no matter the situation, treat women well.”
“I see.”
Aaron continued in a cheerful tone.
“It’s something to be grateful for, having someone you want to treat kindly. My family collapsed completely, but I wanted to help my sisters marry good men somehow. That’s why I became a mercenary.”
Though prettily phrased, he was ultimately saying he had become a mercenary to earn dowries for his sisters.
Helena turned her head away and let out a silent sigh.
‘That damned dowry.’
She looked back at Aaron with a gentle smile.
“Sir Aaron, you truly are a good person.”
“Thank you. But the only reason I was able to do any of that is because of Count Ishpern.”
Aaron gave Helena a meaningful look.
“You may feel uncomfortable now, Lady Helena, but you’ll soon understand as well. The count truly is an admirable man.”
Helena gave Aaron a frosty smile and muttered inwardly,
‘If you call him admirable one more time, Sir Aaron, I’ll serve you soup made from the socks under the bed for dinner.’
Turning her gaze ahead, Helena scoffed.
There was no way Benjamin Ishpern could be an admirable man.
He was the worst kind of person—a man who chose marriage for money. Worse still, he had used that beautiful face to charm her, only to turn around and mock her with Sir Aaron afterward.
And that wasn’t all. He was foolish enough to believe the ridiculous rumors circulating in the capital and assume she was some depraved woman. He possessed not a shred of preparation or foresight, and he was insensitive enough to sleep soundly on a bed overflowing with socks from a ruined manor that looked haunted.
‘He slept. And so did I.’
A faint sense of self-reproach crossed her mind, and suddenly she remembered what had happened the night before.
‘Is intertwining hands really that important?’
Standing at the edge of the bed in his robe, Benjamin had looked… somewhat gentle when he asked that.
And if someone asked whether her heart had truly not fluttered even a little when he pulled her hand and drew her onto the bed—
she could not confidently say no.
“…!”
Snapping back to reality, Helena nearly lashed herself across the face with her riding crop.
‘Have you lost your mind, Helena Winston?!’
She clenched her teeth.
‘You’re wavering just because he pretended to be a little kind? After everything I suffered because of that man…!’
Because of Benjamin—who lacked preparation, flexibility, and money—Helena had endured ten straight days of misery on the road to Burwood, misery so terrible she had thought death might be preferable.
And he had not even shown the slightest sign of guilt about it. The man was shameless beyond belief.
Reliving once more the ten days of hardship and the humiliation of being mistaken for a promiscuous woman, Helena spurred her horse forward.
In the distance, she could see the former steward’s house John had told her about.
Near the count’s castle lay vast farmland and scattered small villages.
The former steward’s home stood along a secluded road between two such villages.
The estate, set slightly apart from the farms, was not extravagant, but it was deeply elegant, with traces of careful attention visible everywhere.
‘Good heavens.’
After dismounting and examining the garden, Helena made up her mind.
‘I absolutely have to bring this person back to the count’s household.’
Passing flowerbeds filled with lovely unnamed blossoms, she stepped up to the small front entrance.
After knocking several times, the door opened.
“…”
She had expected someone elderly, but instead the one who answered was a beautiful young boy.
With calm golden hair and soft green eyes, the lovely boy looked up slightly at the visitors.
Recovering herself, Helena spoke.
“I am—”
“Lady Ishpern, it is an honor to meet you.”
For a moment, Helena wondered if her name had somehow been written across her forehead.
The boy bowed politely.
“My master has been expecting you.”
Expecting her?
Feeling strangely unsettled, Helena followed the clean though aged corridor into a small drawing room.
Inside stood an elderly man with an exceptionally gentle appearance, leaning on a cane before the fireplace.
Seeing Helena, the old man attempted to bow. Helena quickly stopped him.
“That’s quite all right. You are Mr. Kurt, correct?”
The old man smiled warmly and nodded.
“That is correct. You have come a long way. I am Kurt, the former steward of the count’s household.”
As he spoke the word steward, Kurt unconsciously straightened his chest with pride.
Helena supported him gently and helped him sit in the armchair near the fire.
Kurt slowly began to speak.
“I had a feeling my lady would come to see me.”
Helena sighed and quickly got to the point.
“Mr. Kurt, I’ll speak plainly. Please return to the count’s household. The estate needs you.”
At her words, Kurt closed his eyes quietly.
“Ah… the Ishpern household…”
A blissful smile spread across the wrinkled face of the old man as he reminisced about better days.
“A beautiful castle upon green hills… gardens blooming with flowers in every season… the grand banquet hall always bustling with guests. In summer, swans drifted upon the lake behind the castle, and in winter, warm fires burned in every room while lively conversations blossomed.”
The old man opened his eyes again.
Only then did Helena realize his eyes had gone cloudy white halfway with blindness.
Kurt continued in a sorrowful voice.
“My lady, we loved the count’s household dearly. But just as even the most beautiful roses bloom for only a season, the House of Ishpern has faded.”
Helena bristled inwardly.
‘What nonsense?’
What Helena needed was the beautiful castle Kurt described—
not the half-burned, half-collapsed ruin overrun by cobwebs and rotten socks.
Keeping her composure, Helena replied,
“A withered rose blooms again when summer returns. The House of Ishpern will rise again as well.”
Kurt looked at Helena with pitying eyes.
“The count will never allow such a thing.”
Helena nearly snorted aloud.
‘Who does that bastard think he is?’
