Lady Class - Chapter 4

Rackley had been bottling up her emotions, unable to confide even in her aunt. But when her friend, Irina Solmon, heard about the situation, she rushed over and finally gave Rackley the chance to vent.

The Solmon family had long been connected to the Winner estate, and among them, Irina was the one Rackley was closest to.

“This is completely unfair. It hasn’t even been a year since the funeral, and he’s already brought in a mistress—no, an illegitimate child—claiming them as family?”

“It’s truly appalling.”

“You were the one managing the household all this time. And now, just because she bore him a son, he hands everything over to his mistress? No. This isn’t right.”

Irina had a habit of saying sharp things that sometimes got under people’s skin, but at least she was genuinely angry on Rackley’s behalf.

“Your father is already searching for a marriage match for you. He’s trying to push you out of the house. You’re being cast aside, Rackley. You need to act before it’s too late. You have to protect your place.”

“My father… is looking for a suitor?”

“Yes. I overheard him asking my father for help.”

“That can’t be…”

Rackley had thought the mention of marriage was just a warning—a way of telling her not to entertain any foolish hopes about her future in the household.

But if he was seriously arranging a match for her, that meant he truly intended to remove her.

She had assumed it would be at least a year or two before any actual discussions took place. But it was happening too fast.

“And now he’s giving your seat in the Rose Society to that woman? Absolutely not. You need to make him feel your absence. He has to realize that he needs you, Rackley.”

It was a tempting thought.

A small part of her doubted whether her father would ever feel her absence. But she couldn’t resist the idea entirely.

“If you step away, only then will he understand how much you were doing.”

It was a busy season—the Mellots Orphanage Bazaar was approaching, and she was supposed to handle many business matters for the household as well.

Even so, she didn’t refuse Irina’s proposal.

Make Count Winner realize how important she was. Make him regret.

That idea shook something inside her.

Irina leaned in, red lips forming a whisper against her ear.

“Use the excuse of exchanging marriage information between noblewomen and come stay at our villa. I’ll help you, Rackley.”

Just as Irina finished speaking, a familiar voice suddenly rang out behind them.

A strict, reprimanding voice.

“Winner. So, you’ve returned to the capital.”

Rackley recognized that voice immediately.

Daniel Holton.

His silver hair shone under the light, his winter-blue eyes sharp as ever.

Rackley and Irina had been speaking in a quiet corner on the second floor of a café. Daniel had been leaving when he spotted them and walked over.

He was her cousin from her mother’s side and had often been her escort at social gatherings. Despite how often they met, he was still as curt as ever. He never called her by name—always Winner.

The Holton family despised Count Winner, seeing him as nothing more than a fortune-hunting noble who had married for wealth. After her mother had fallen ill, they had cut ties completely. Count Winner, in turn, resented them as mere nouveau riche gentry—despite having eagerly taken their money through marriage.

Their families were at odds, so it had been surprising when Daniel had agreed to be Rackley’s escort at all.

But even though he had helped her, he always maintained a firm boundary. She understood why.

They were close, yet there was always a sense of unease between them.

Still, Daniel was someone she could rely on. Whenever she stood beside him, she felt like a child again—protected but also painfully aware of her own vulnerability.

“I left word with the butler. Did he not tell you?”

“I heard. But I’ve been preoccupied…”

Daniel’s face darkened.

“That damn Count—!”

“Daniel, please.”

His voice, tense with anger, drew attention from the nearby patrons.

Rumors had already spread. Most nobles already knew what was happening in the Winner household. But she didn’t want to give people any more to talk about.

And no matter how cruel her father had been, he was still her father.

If someone was going to curse him, it should be her—not an outsider.

Daniel’s gaze lingered on her, uncomfortable and intense.

Then, Irina suddenly placed a gentle hand on his arm, her expression troubled.

“Sir Holton, the one suffering the most is Rackley. And raising your voice in public like this… you’re only making things harder for her.”

Daniel’s eyes flicked down to Irina’s hand.

Then, wordlessly, he took a step back.

Irina bit her lower lip.

“Winner.”

“I have plans with Irina. Let’s talk another time.”

“…I’ll be waiting.”

Fortunately, Daniel backed off.

Daniel, from the Holton family, who already disliked Count Winner, had discovered the existence of a stepmother and an illegitimate child. Shame washed over her at the thought that their family’s disgrace had been exposed. Even though it wasn’t Rackley’s fault.

Feeling exhausted, she was about to return to the mansion when Irina stopped her again.

“Think carefully before making a decision, Rackley. This is actually an opportunity. The Count needs to realize that you are just as precious of a child.”

She knew it was just a sweet dream.

With the butler’s help, Rowinda was doing well, so even without her, the Count’s household would be fine.

But using Irina’s suggestion as an excuse, Rackley wanted to leave the mansion, to leave the capital, even if just for a while.

Once she made her decision, everything moved quickly.

Thanks to Irina speaking well to the Count, Rackley was able to avoid the task of preparing a banquet to introduce Rowinda and instead was sent to the Solmon family’s villa.

“The servant has returned. However, on the way, he only saw the broken carriage but did not find the coachman. Since it’s late at night, we will send someone to check again tomorrow.”

Brand, the villa’s butler, delivered the message and then left for the servants’ quarters.

Rackley was left alone in her room.

The room, well-equipped for a lady’s stay, contained everything from cosmetics and perfume to lingerie and revealing dresses. After having a simple meal and taking a bath, she borrowed a muslin dress since she had nothing else to wear and lay down on the bed.

However, she felt restless and couldn’t sleep, so she drank the sleeping aid Irina had given her and closed her eyes again.

“It’s hot.”

Rackley woke up before long. The burning heat inside her made it impossible to stay still.

She felt a sudden surge of warmth coursing through her body, forcing her eyes open. It was just past midnight.

‘It’s not even the season for hot nights yet. Is it because this is the South?’

When she brushed her small hand against her neck, it was damp with sweat.

She sipped some water from the console, but the relief lasted only while the cool liquid touched her throat. The heat welling up inside her did not subside.

Was it because she had come to a strange place to escape the exhausting events of the past?

“Am I feeling unwell?”

The heat was strange.

It wasn’t a fever that made her head ache or body ache like the flu, but deep inside her lower abdomen, there was a stirring sensation. Her underwear was unexpectedly damp, and a slick moisture spread, making her skin tingle and throb.

Even the light touch of the muslin dress brushing against her skin felt overly stimulating.

She knew something was wrong with her body, but she didn’t want to be a nuisance by waking the butler in the middle of the night, especially on her first day here. She was merely a guest borrowing someone else’s villa.

‘I should cool down with some ice first.’

Rackley headed to the kitchen.

The kitchen was always located at the back of a building. Carrying a lamp, she searched for it. As expected, the kitchen was at the rear, and inside, there was a container storing ice for cooking.

She took out a piece of ice and placed it in her mouth.

“So cool.”

Even as she held the ice in her mouth, the heat continued to consume her body. Her head felt hazy, and the secret area beneath her undergarments itched unbearably. She had the urge to rip off the muslin dress clinging to her body.

But she still had some sense left, reminding herself that she couldn’t do that.

Wrapping the ice in a handkerchief, she pressed it against her neck.

“Haa…”

A gasp escaped her lips.

She rubbed the ice along the back of her neck, sliding it down past her collarbones to cool herself. The ice quickly melted against her overheated skin, and the water trickled down her chest, dampening her muslin dress.

The wet fabric clung to her body, turning nearly translucent, but Rackley was too overwhelmed to care.

The cool sensation from the ice disappeared almost instantly, consumed by the lingering heat inside her. The soaked dress pressed against her skin, making her hyperaware of every breath she took, each movement brushing against her sensitized flesh. The moisture had even trickled lower, dampening her undergarments further.

“A bath…”

Ignoring the restless stir in her lower abdomen, Rackley turned toward her room.

Would a cool shower help? She recalled how, as a child, her mother would wipe her down with a damp cloth whenever she had a fever.

She needed to do something—anything. Urgently.

Her heart pounded with unease, as if something would happen if she didn’t cool down soon.

Pressing an unsteady hand against her damp collarbone and the exposed curve of her chest, Rackley hurried back to her room.

But the moment she stepped into the parlor—

“Who’s there?”

A smooth, lazy male voice stopped her in her tracks.

A man stood against the moonlit window.

His posture was relaxed yet imposing, as though he belonged here—as though he owned the villa. The dim light obscured his features, but she could make out broad shoulders beneath a loosely draped shirt. His unfastened collar revealed a glimpse of sculpted chest muscles that gleamed in the moonlight. He was built like a knight—strong, powerful.

And when he straightened from his slight hunch, his size became even more imposing. He was large enough to block out the window behind him entirely.

Then, his face came into view.

Rackley instinctively held her breath.

Sharp, defined features. A presence more commanding than any man she had ever seen—even more so than the royal princes.

With wild black hair and piercing eyes, the stranger gazed at her with a bold, unreadable expression. His scrutiny was anything but polite, his dark eyes trailing over her damp form.

“Ah… a gift.”

His husky, amused voice brushed against her ears like a whisper, sending a shiver down her spine. A tremor ran through her body, deep inside.

She had just stumbled upon a strange man while looking like this, yet instead of fear, a different sensation coursed through her—an unfamiliar thrill.

“A gift?”

Through the haze of heat clouding her mind, Rackley suddenly recalled something—something Irina had said before she left the Count’s estate.

She remembered the way Irina had curved her red lips into a knowing smile, her voice dripping with mischief. That low, sultry chuckle had felt oddly unsettling.

“I’ve sent a little surprise to the villa just for you. Enjoy your lessons.”

Rackley swallowed dryly, her throat tightening with realization.