What Remains in the Damaged Place - Chapter 40

Of course, given her noble birth, she had likely never done such things herself.

But in this situation, she was a “guest.”

Isn’t it proper etiquette for nobles, when visiting someone else’s estate, to at least show a degree of courtesy and generosity, keeping in mind the eyes of the host?

‘Becky said she was worked to the bone the last time, too.’

‘She even treated the head maid like her personal servant. You think we’d be any different?’

‘We only deal with her briefly, but the maids who serve her must be having a hard time.’

Fragments of past conversations came to mind.

Hearing everyone speak the same way, it was clear that she had a habit of acting like this.

Lirette brushed aside her lingering doubts and focused on fanning the lady.

Even after that, Camille continued to order Lirette around as she pleased.

She had Lirette bring her a flower from the vase in front of her, and after taking it, said she wanted to see fresh ones, sending Lirette to pick some from the garden. When she lost interest in the flowers, she asked Lirette to open the windows wide so she could admire the garden. Then, not long after, she complained that the wind was stronger than she expected and asked her to close the windows again.

Despite complaining about the heat, Camille didn’t hesitate to send Lirette back to the kitchen because the tea had cooled while she was gone.

“I’ll bring the tea,” Lirette said.

She had lost count of how many times today she had prepared tea for just one person.

Lirette told herself to endure it a little longer, skillfully tilting the teapot.

Then it happened.

“My lady, I apologize for keeping you waiting. The master’s meeting will end shortly, and he will be on his way.”

It was the head maid.

Given how important the guest was, she had come to deliver the message personally.

Camille, who had looked bored until then, suddenly jumped up with a lively face, as if she had forgotten all about her boredom.

But that action caused a problem. As her voluminous dress swept across the table, the teapot tipped over.

“Ah…!”

The lid flipped off, and the hot tea, just brought from the kitchen, spilled onto Lirette’s hand, which had been resting on the floor.

The tea was still steaming hot, and Lirette gasped in pain, instinctively pulling her hand back as if flames had touched her skin.

“Oh my!”

Camille’s wide eyes said it all.

The unexpected commotion prompted the head maid to rush into the reception room.

“Oh dear. Are you alright?”

The pain in her hand was so intense that Lirette couldn’t speak. The head maid, realizing that Lirette had been the one serving Camille, looked momentarily flustered.

But only for a moment. She quickly regained her composure, assured Camille that she would send another maid, and helped Lirette out of the room.

“Are you okay?” the head maid asked quietly, so no one else could hear.

Lirette looked down at her hand, unable to even grasp it due to the pain.

Her hand, now red and swollen, stung as if being pricked by needles, even with the slightest breeze. A groan of pain escaped from deep within her.

It had been a long time since she had felt such raw pain, and cold sweat trickled down her back.

***

Valderion arrived at the reception room ten minutes later.

“I apologize for making you wait.”

His tone suggested an apology, but his calm manner revealed little actual feeling behind the words.

And indeed, he felt little.

Once again, just like last time, Camille was showing a less-than-pleased attitude.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t know how busy he was, so why was she acting so thoughtlessly?

Reminding himself that she was still a guest and his fiancée, Valderion masked his emotions with practiced ease.

“No, it’s my fault. I got the time wrong and arrived early,” Camille said, jumping up from the sofa the moment she saw him and hurrying over, her face looking slightly anxious.

“I… I accidentally spilled tea on the maid’s hand. I’m sorry, Duke.”

Her voice wavered, as if something had gone wrong during his absence.

Valderion glanced over at the butler standing to the side. The butler, noticing his gaze, gave a subtle nod, indicating that the situation had been handled.

Since no formal report had reached him, Valderion assumed the matter wasn’t serious and responded casually.

“Are you hurt?”

“N-No, I’m fine.”

Camille lowered her eyes as she replied.

Her thick lashes softly fell, casting a faint melancholy over her delicate face.

“Shall we move somewhere else? I was thinking of going to the glasshouse. Is that alright?”

“That sounds lovely.”

With that, Valderion escorted Camille out of the reception room.

As they made their way to the glasshouse, Camille stumbled slightly, likely due to her high heels.

“Would you mind giving me your hand?”

She extended her hand, covered by a lace glove.

Valderion gently took her hand, not out of any particular feeling or intent, but more as a habitual gesture of gentlemanly etiquette.

After that, his time with Camille proceeded much like their usual meetings. In the newly arranged setting, surrounded by a variety of vibrant flowers and freshly served tea, Camille gradually regained her usual liveliness.

After a brief tea time, Valderion personally escorted her as she prepared to leave.

“I’d prefer not to have Lady Floyden be bored like today, so please do come at the agreed time next time,” he said, helping her into the carriage. His polite tone was wrapped in impeccable manners, but his true intent was clear.

Camille caught on, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“Yes, yes. I suppose I was too eager to see you and got ahead of myself.”

Valderion released her hand with a gentlemanly smile.

“Take care on your way.”

The carriage door closed.

As the grand gates of the duke’s mansion opened and the carriage smoothly exited, Camille’s smile gradually faded inside the fast-moving vehicle.

There hadn’t been much to enjoy about today’s meeting.

Something else had lodged itself in her mind, swirling around relentlessly.

Camille sank deeply into the seat.

The image of the maid who had served her before Valderion’s arrival kept coming to mind.

Her beauty was undeniable—enough to captivate any man. Even in her plain maid’s uniform, her appearance was so striking that the uniform seemed irrelevant.

Camille hadn’t expected to feel such a sense of threat over mere looks.

But it wasn’t just the woman’s face that kept stirring her unease.

‘Those eyes…’

Every time the maid spoke, those coral-colored eyes had been directed at her.

Her irises, reminiscent of rose quartz, were as clear and pure as a stream in a secluded valley. The eyes, sparkling like a perfectly cut gem, sent shivers down Camille’s spine whenever they turned toward her.

‘I’ve seen them somewhere before…’

There was something oddly familiar about those eyes.

If someone asked her where, she couldn’t recall any specific memory. Still, something about them kept nagging at her mind.

‘I didn’t mean to…’

As she thought more about the maid’s identity, the memory of spilling the tea came back to her.

It hadn’t been intentional.

It was just an accident.

Sure, Camille had acted out a bit, feeling spiteful toward such unexpected beauty, but she hadn’t meant to cause harm.

Even so, she didn’t regret it. If that maid hadn’t been connected to the duke, today’s encounter wouldn’t have mattered at all.

In fact, she almost wished it would be interpreted as a deliberate warning—a signal to guard against any improper affections. She wanted to prevent any further disturbances in her two-year-long engagement.

“We’ve arrived, my lady.”

The carriage door opened, and a hand reached out to assist her.

Camille took the hand, preparing to step down from the carriage when suddenly, something clicked in her mind.

‘Ah.’

Like dust that had been stirred up, an old, forgotten memory resurfaced.

‘Those eyes… they were famously beautiful. Rose quartz. Isn’t that a rare color?’

It was part of a conversation she’d had with her father long ago.

“My lady?”

The servant’s voice didn’t even register. Camille remained frozen, fixated on the memory of a certain person.

Rose quartz.

A rare color.

Pink…

‘The Blewit family, of course.’

Several clues led her to a specific family.

But that raised another question.

‘No, it can’t be. If they were involved in treason, wouldn’t they have been completely wiped out?’

No one bearing the name “Blewit” should still be alive. If those eyes belonged to someone from that family, they would have disappeared in disgrace long ago.

But if that’s true, how could she explain the eyes she had just seen?

…It wouldn’t hurt to look into it.

Regaining her composure, Camille descended from the carriage and turned to her butler.

“Butler.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“There’s something I’d like you to investigate.”

Her sharp eyes gleamed like the point of a dagger.

***

Meanwhile, after seeing Camille off, Valderion returned to the mansion. He headed straight to his office, where he still had unfinished business with his aide, Moses.

However, waiting for him there wasn’t Moses, but the head maid.

“My lord.”

“What is it?”

“The treatment for Brilline has been completed.”

Valderion, who had been heading toward his desk, stopped abruptly.

“Treatment?”

He turned back toward her, confused by the unfamiliar news, and the head maid clarified.

“Yes. She suffered a burn and will have difficulty using her hand for a while…”

Valderion’s eyes narrowed.

‘I… I accidentally spilled tea on the maid’s hand.’

It was only then that he realized the maid in question had been Lirette.