MHCBC 25

The silver spoon resting on the tea table trembled ever so slightly.

Across from him, he could feel the woman watching him with careful concern.

The moment Lucius sensed her gaze, he curved his lips into a faint smile. It was the sort of smile that reached only his mouth, leaving his eyes almost completely unchanged.

“Lucius, if you’re willing… how about going down to the South for a while? A change of scenery and some rest might do you good.”

He quietly studied the woman sitting before him.

Eleanor.

The Duchess of Windmere. The mistress of the ducal household. His birth mother.

She had been born the eldest legitimate daughter of House Ardella, the family that ruled much of the western continent. For centuries, the Ardelas had passed down vast lands and military authority directly through their bloodline, and Eleanor herself had inherited both.

Yet the Eleanor Lucius knew seemed nothing like such a formidable woman.

To him, she was simply fragile.

He could still vividly remember the sight of her breaking down in tears when she realized he had lost his memories.

“I’m fine, Mother.”

“But…”

“Father is already away in the West. If I leave for the South as well, the household will only become unsettled. Besides, I’m not ill, so there’s no reason for me to recover from anything.”

“Even so… perhaps you simply need to rest.”

“If I remember correctly, we don’t have any relatives in the South. I’d rather spend time here with you than stay somewhere unfamiliar with no one I know.”

That was why he tried his best to imitate the son she longed to have back.

If pretending could ease even a fraction of the grief of a mother who had lost the son she once knew overnight, then he would continue doing so.

Their regular tea time was merely another part of that performance.

Every movement of his fingertips, every degree of warmth in his voice was carefully calculated.

Completely unaware of the deception behind it, Eleanor smiled happily at his gentle words.

“My goodness, Lucius. You’ve always had such a thoughtful heart. Even if you’ve lost your memories, there are some things that never change.”

His lips stiffened as though he’d swallowed something bitter.

In truth, every excuse he offered was a lie.

More than anything, it was his way of easing the guilt of committing yet another sin against the mother who still prayed for her beloved son to return.

He had no intention of ever recovering his memories.

Even if it meant betraying Eleanor’s hopes for Celia’s sake, he had no desire to deny the immorality of that choice.

“If you ever change your mind, promise you’ll tell me. When times are difficult, who else should you rely on if not your family?”

“Of course.”

He fashioned the gentlest expression he could manage.

Covering her thin hand with his own, he leaned forward just enough to meet her eyes.

He played the role of the obedient son so she could believe—if only for today—that he was still the same Lucius she had always known.

“Then… I’ll tell you stories from when you were little. Perhaps they’ll help your memories return. Hmm… Ah! How about the first time you rode a horse? It was such a tiny pony. A beautiful little white one…”

The tea time passed peacefully.

Drawing on old memories, Eleanor told him everything about the Lucius he did not know.

Lucius quietly committed each story to memory, collecting every fragment as though taking notes. Piece by piece, he built the foundation of the man called Lucius Windmere—the version everyone believed had survived unchanged.

Then, just as Eleanor was happily reminiscing…

She suddenly fell silent.

“Actually, Lucius…”

“Yes, Mother?”

She looked at the son who answered so earnestly.

The words reached the tip of her tongue several times, only to be swallowed back down.

After a long hesitation, she finally spoke.

“Soon… a young lady from the South will be coming to visit.”

Watching his mother absentmindedly trace the rim of her teacup, Lucius straightened slightly.

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

It was an old habit.

Whenever he suspected something, his gaze became quiet and probing, carefully searching the other person’s thoughts.

Under that silent scrutiny, Eleanor’s resolve wavered again and again.

“She… was once considered your fiancée.”

His hand froze halfway through setting down his teacup.

His eyes slowly drifted to Eleanor’s lips.

“…I’m already married. Why would a lady who might have become my fiancée come all the way here to see me?”

“I don’t know either. But what I do know… is that you were the one who invited her.”

The room fell silent in an instant.

His lips pressed into a hard line.

As though rolling her words over in his mouth, Lucius remained motionless.

The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by an icy chill.

“So… before I lost my memories, I invited the woman who was once meant to become my fiancée into this house.”

“Yes. She even contacted me personally.”

Eleanor stared at the rigid expression on his face, unable to continue for several moments.

Whatever storm was hidden beneath those clear eyes…

Only he knew.

“Lucius… I admit it.”

She lowered her gaze.

“I’ve never had a favorable opinion of Celia. I tried not to let you notice, but… I’m sure you already knew.”

At last, Eleanor slowly clenched and released her hands.

It looked as though she were forcing herself to make a difficult decision.

“But… you weren’t trying to turn your attention to another woman while your wife was still by your side… were you?”

The question she had buried for so long finally escaped.

There was desperation written across her face.

Faith in her son…

And the fear that faith might shatter.

“They said they wanted to talk to you about your… future together.”

Her voice trembled.

“Please… please tell me that’s not what this is.”

…

Ah.

How could things possibly become this disastrous?

A quiet sigh died in the back of Lucius’s throat.

Looking at his mother’s face—so full of unwavering faith in her son—twisting with anxiety before him…

He could only bury himself beneath the wreckage left behind by the man he used to be.

Behind the hand rubbing across his face, his eyes sank into a glacial cold.

“M-My lady! This is outrageous!!”

Anne cried out, her face drained of color.

She had just finished hearing the entire story from Celia.

“His Grace has gone too far! How could he tell you to… to seduce Young Duke Windmere of all people…!”

Celia, who had been absentmindedly sorting through the clothes in her wardrobe, looked over in agreement.

Anne’s eyes were already brimming with tears as she clutched Celia’s sleeve with trembling hands.

“What did you ever do to deserve something like this, my lady…?”

Her voice cracked into quiet sobs.

Watching Anne’s reddened nose, Celia planted a hand on her hip and let out a long sigh.

“If I can’t kill the bastard… then I might as well seduce him, just like Father wants.”

“Hic…!”

For one fleeting moment, widow or not…

She really had considered simply murdering him.

But Lucius was the sort of stubborn monster who had survived even after Edmund had tried with all his might to kill him.

A little silver knife in Celia’s hands wasn’t going to finish the job.

“And of all people, it had to be Young Duke Windmere who has the documents His Grace needs… This is a curse!”

Celia had conveniently omitted the part about treason.

All she had told Anne was that Lucius possessed documents her father desperately needed, and that she had to retrieve them somehow.

Which only made Anne more furious.

To think her lady had to seduce the man she hated over a handful of papers!

“That’s enough, Anne. It has to be done.”

Celia waved her off.

“If you really want to help me, stop crying and help me pick out some clothes.”

Anne reluctantly wiped her tears with her sleeve and stood.

But the moment she noticed what Celia had been looking through…

Her face somehow turned even paler.

“M-My lady…”

She swallowed hard.

“W-Why are you looking through… your underwear?”

From sheer, deeply cut chemises that revealed the neckline…

To scandalously short drawers…

To lace-trimmed garters that left very little to the imagination.

Celia shoved aside everything remotely modest before lifting a loose chemise so sheer it was practically transparent.

“If I’m supposed to seduce him, shouldn’t I wear something like this?”

“A-Ah…”

Anne’s face turned bright red.

“So… that kind of seduction…”

“Is there another kind?”

“W-Well… usually you capture a man’s heart before his body… A-Anyway! Leave the clothes to me!”

Celia tossed aside another outfit she felt like tearing to pieces before dropping into the chair inside the dressing room.

Now fully understanding what her mistress intended, Anne hurriedly began searching through the wardrobe instead.

Celia’s wardrobe, however, was remarkably consistent.

There wasn’t a single outfit designed to tempt a man.

The only thing visible was Anne’s growing despair as she struggled to find anything remotely suitable.

Wouldn’t it be enough to just wear almost nothing?

Leaning lazily against the chair, Celia rested one hand on the armrest.

Several loose strands of hair slipped free behind her ear, falling softly against her cheek.

He’s not some beast in heat…

Although… considering how obsessed he was with sleeping with me… maybe he’d come running on his own.

Had anyone heard those thoughts, they would have immediately lectured her that seduction didn’t work that way.

Unfortunately…

No one knew the intimate history between the two of them.

After Anne poured every ounce of effort into selecting the perfect outfit for Celia…

A servant arrived.

“My lady.”

He bowed politely.

“Young Duke Lucius requests the pleasure of seeing you privately this evening.”

Before Celia had even managed to prepare herself…

Lucius had summoned her first.

As always…

His timing was absolutely, infuriatingly terrible.