Prologue
“Are you here again?”
Isla, the florist, recognized Eleanor and smiled warmly. Eleanor visited the flower shop at least once a week, so to Isla, she was a cherished regular customer.
“Shall I prepare white crocuses again?”
Wiping her wet hands on her apron, Isla asked.
“No, I want to get something different today.”
Eleanor’s response made Isla’s eyes widen in surprise. It was unexpected. Around this time, Eleanor always chose white crocuses. When asked where she intended to place them, she said it was for her bedside table.
“May I ask why?”
When Isla repeated, puzzled, Eleanor smiled faintly.
“It’s time to change my mind.”
Isla tilted her head in confusion at Eleanor’s cryptic answer. Yet she quickly returned to her usual cheerful self, thinking perhaps Eleanor’s tastes had simply changed. Either way, as long as she was buying flowers, it was good news for Isla.
“Then, which flowers would you like today?”
“Daffodils, please.”
At Eleanor’s answer, Isla energetically replied, “Of course!” and hurriedly turned to gather them. While Eleanor waited at the entrance, Isla neatly arranged the daffodils into a bouquet and wrapped them in paper.
“Heading straight back to the manor?”
“I suppose so. It looks like it will rain soon.”
“My knees felt sore when I woke up; maybe it’s the same for you.”
Isla groaned, complaining about her knees. Eleanor accepted the bouquet of daffodils and paid for them.
“By the way, where’s the maid you always bring along? The Duke will scold you.”
The overprotectiveness of Duke Logan Claven toward Eleanor was no secret to anyone living near the Claven estate.
It all began when, against his family’s wishes, he declared that he would make Eleanor Hudson, a fallen noble, his fiancée. He surrounded her with his people to ensure no one could harm her.
Even the stepmother, Cindy Claven, who once mistreated Eleanor, was thoroughly reprimanded by the Duke—a tale still talked about in the area.
“She’s not that kind of person.”
Eleanor said this with a serene smile. Isla wanted to argue that only Eleanor, as the future Duchess, would think that way, but stopped herself. If the Duke wanted Eleanor to remain as she was, speaking out might provoke his anger.
“I’ll be going now, Isla.”
When Eleanor first met Isla, her appearance seemed ordinary, but the more one looked, the more her delicate charm emerged: pale, translucent skin, gray eyes, long blonde hair. Only her richly colored lips contrasted against this, combining with the Claven wealth to create flawless beauty.
Recently, young women tried to emulate Eleanor, hoping to capture even a fraction of her allure. It was the kind of beauty that made men dream, though some might doubt its reality.
“Take care, Eleanor.”
Isla sent her off with a merchant’s perfected smile and turned back inside. A single spring raindrop fell onto the dirt path where Eleanor had just walked.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Bathing at this hour? You must have been out in the rain.”
Logan glanced briefly at Eleanor, guessing correctly. Eleanor smiled awkwardly, unable to lie. The maid standing behind her, Rosy, lowered her head, sensing she would soon hear reprimanding words.
“Eat before it gets cold.”
Logan motioned toward Eleanor’s plate.
“I went to buy flowers.”
“Oh, did you?”
Instead of picking up her food, Eleanor began to recount where she had been. Logan listened quietly. He twisted the wine glass in his hand, leaving the lightly cooked lamb steak untouched, hinting at his unsettled mind.
“I bought daffodils today.”
The meaning of daffodils: “repaying love.”
Logan’s hand, which had been idly circling the wine glass, froze. Eleanor carefully met the clear, watery gaze of Logan, who seemed to see right through her.
“It’s the last day of the three-year promise with Asher.”
Now, there was no reason for her to avoid his gaze.
“I’ve decided to accept it.”
“…….”
“That Asher died in the war three years ago.”
Eleanor bit her trembling lip. Logan set the wine glass down on the table.
The faint clink echoed through the dining room, louder than expected.
“Can I interpret what you just said as I wish?”
Logan asked cautiously, his tongue touching his lips. Eleanor nodded slightly. After staring at Eleanor in stunned silence, Logan finally composed himself and smiled faintly, pressing his hand to his forehead.
“Do you understand what I mean by saying I’ll interpret it my way?”
Logan asked. Though his voice was normal, beneath it stirred an intense heat. This was the moment he had long awaited.
“…Yes.”
At Eleanor’s obedient answer, Logan abruptly rose. The servants, standing by to serve them, all looked toward the Duke in surprise.
“Do not follow us.”
Logan said, grabbing Eleanor’s wrist to pull her up. Startled, Eleanor tried to push him away but hesitated. She had asked him to interpret things as he wished, knowing he wanted her desperately.
“That’s not important, Eleanor.”
“…….”
“None of that matters right now.”
As Logan whispered, his warm lips brushed against her neck. Eleanor trembled at the heat radiating from his solid body resting against her palm.
“If you aren’t thinking the same, speak now and I’ll step back. Immediately.”
Despite expressing his desire with his entire being, Logan seemed ready to retreat at her word. But he had waited three long years for this moment.
If he showed no hesitation, it would have been a lie. But Eleanor didn’t want to torment this man she loved any longer.
‘Eli, if I couldn’t return even after the war, after three years…’
‘Asher!’
‘Then it means I’m dead. Or too crippled to move. So don’t wait; live your life.’
The man she had loved was already dead in the chaos of war. Logan’s somber face had conveyed this truth. It was time to accept it.
“Call me Eli now.”
“…….”
“Logan.”
Eleanor lifted her hand to gently cup Logan’s jaw and whispered.
“Eli.”
Tears shimmered in Logan’s watery eyes as he bowed slightly. Eleanor felt his approaching face and slowly closed her eyes.
His arms tightened around her waist, his warm breath scattered over her lips, and finally, his lips met hers. They trembled—it was their first kiss.
Eleanor parted her lips. Logan, who had hesitated until now, surged forward.
Like a disciplined soldier who never missed a moment, he pressed intensely against Eleanor, tracing her curves and stealing her breath. His hands supported her bent neck firmly.
“Your Grace.”
It was then. The butler knocked repeatedly on the door, calling Logan. Logan reluctantly paused, separating his lips from Eleanor’s. Yet, as if needing contact, their foreheads remained pressed together.
“I told you, no one is to follow us.”
The butler apologized profusely. Eleanor, belatedly aware of the rain lashing against the window, realized she had been completely absorbed in the moment.
Yet Logan’s firm embrace did not loosen. Eleanor remained acutely conscious of his gaze, so near her lips, and felt like a helpless prey to the man who could not restrain himself.
“A very important guest has arrived…”
“Did the King come?”
Logan sarcastically asked the butler, still glancing at Eleanor.
“Mr. Asher Fitzman has come.”
Lightning flashed, illuminating the room. The name she thought she would never hear again froze time itself.
