Chapter 2

Sometimes, things don’t go as planned. For instance, today, Isabella left her house without an umbrella. She only realized she needed one when she stepped out of the bakery, drenched in cold water hurriedly carried by a passing waiter. Meanwhile, a man walking by, shielding himself from the rain with a newly purchased newspaper, stumbled and fell face-first into the mud.

Holding a bag of poppy seed buns she intended to gift to the Lancaster estate’s butler, Isabella glanced up at the sky. The rain showed no signs of stopping. With a heavy sigh, she stepped back inside the bakery and sat at an empty table.

“I need to hurry,” she suddenly thought.

This week alone, she had visited the duke’s residence three times, and three times she had been turned away for various reasons. But she was not one to give up so easily. The only positive outcome of her visits was the butler’s growing favor. During her time waiting at the estate, they had engaged in pleasant conversations, and on her last visit, as he escorted her out, Charles had promised to do his best to persuade the duke to receive her. That was why she had decided to buy him some buns as a token of gratitude.

Lifting her gaze, Isabella looked around the bakery. Dismal. Just like herself, really.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention back to the window. This time, it seemed the rain had finally stopped. She glanced at the hem of her dress, which had dried while she was waiting.

“At least it was just water and not tea or coffee,” she muttered to herself, smoothing out the fabric.

Upon reaching the residence, Isabella inhaled deeply. She wasn’t sure why, but she had a feeling that today, their meeting would finally take place. And that made her even more nervous. Of course, she had been anxious the previous three times as well, but this time, her unease felt much stronger. Still, summoning her courage, she stepped through the gates of the estate, where her newfound friend, Charles, greeted her at the entrance with a sorrowful smile.

“Welcome, Lady Alliste.”

Isabella immediately understood—Charles likely already had a prepared rejection for her. Concealing her disappointment as best as she could, she smiled in return.

“Good afternoon.”

Charles greeted her with a warm smile before clearing his throat, bringing a fist to his lips, as if preparing to turn her away.

“I suppose I won’t be able to meet with the duke today either?”

Yes, Charles liked this quality of Isabella’s. Though they hadn’t known each other long, through their two conversations over tea while she waited for Damian, he had noticed her ability to read people instantly. It was convenient—she was the first to voice the bad news, sparing him the trouble of saying, “You are denied.”

“He was supposed to have a free day today, but urgent matters arose, and he had to leave the estate early this morning. It’s unclear when he will return. But even if he does make it back today, I doubt he will have the energy to receive visitors due to exhaustion.”

Charles was speaking faster than usual, not realizing he was inadvertently justifying himself to Isabella. In a way, he had reason to—after all, he had been the one to arrange today’s visit.

“I see,” Isabella replied with a smile, then extended the bag of buns she had prepared. “I bought these just for you from a bakery near my home. They’ve cooled down, but I’m sure they’re still just as delicious.”

Seeing her gift, Charles’s face lit up with a radiant smile. In a way, he was grateful for Isabella’s kindness, and his sense of guilt started to fade.

“If you’ve brought dessert, then I owe you some tea, don’t I?”

Charles still couldn’t quite grasp Isabella’s true intentions. She had never once explained why she sought the duke, leaving Charles only to speculate. He had even secretly looked into her family. The only logical conclusion he could draw was that she sought a marriage proposal to save her household.

“Aren’t I taking up your time, Barkley?” Isabella’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

The question made him flinch slightly. Once again, he was reassured—this was indeed Isabella Alliste and not some impostor. She was refined, graceful, and just a touch arrogant—qualities that belonged only to ladies of the highest society.

“Not at all! I always appreciate good company. Especially when they bring such exquisite treats.”

Isabella smiled in response. She firmly believed that forming a friendly relationship with the butler and housekeeper was always beneficial, as they were the most important people in an estate—aside from the master himself, of course.

“This is the least I could do to thank you for your kindness.”

“Oh, but I’ve done nothing yet. I still haven’t been able to help you,” Charles sighed regretfully.

“Please, don’t feel guilty. I know you are doing everything you can. The only reason I haven’t lost hope in meeting His Grace is because of you.”

A smile brightened Charles’s face. Receiving praise from a noble lady for his work was a rare delight. It motivated him to try even harder.

“I will do everything I can for you, miss.”

“I am deeply grateful for your service, Barkley.”

Before Charles could notice how time had flown, a servant hurried in and whispered something in his ear. Apologizing, he asked Isabella to wait for him in the sitting room and quickly left.

Left alone, Isabella couldn’t help but recall her childhood at the Rankaster estate, her family’s ancestral home. Luxury and wealth had surrounded her all her life. But the grandeur and elegance of House Hartess were on an entirely different level.

In Charles’s presence, she always maintained a composed demeanor. But now, alone, she couldn’t resist curiously taking in the surroundings. During her last visit, while having tea with the butler, a painting by the entrance had caught her attention. Now, she could finally examine it up close.

Rising from the sofa, Isabella slowly approached the portrait. It depicted a woman of extraordinary beauty and noble grace. This must be the late Duchess of Hartess, she thought.

So absorbed was she in the painting that she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching from outside. While she admired the artwork, the doors to the sitting room suddenly swung open, and a man she had never seen before stepped inside.

He was tall, with aristocratic features and a cold gaze that immediately locked onto Isabella. Silence stretched between them as they studied each other.

“Forgive me for disturbing you,” he finally spoke, his voice deep and confident. “Are you Lady Alliste?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Isabella replied, unable to hide her surprise.

The man took a few steps closer, as if appraising her.

“My name is Damian Hartess,” he introduced himself. “I was informed that you have been quite persistent in seeking a meeting with me.”

Isabella barely managed to conceal her unease.

At last, she had met the duke.