MAC 04

Chapter: 04

Knock, knock.

“Young Master!”

Startled by the sudden sound, Patrick nearly jumped out of his skin. He hurriedly shoved the letter away, closed the lid of the box, and practically kicked the hateful box back under the bed.

Then he sprang to his feet and flung the door open irritably.

“What is it?”

The butler standing at the doorway blinked and hesitantly delivered the message.

“Well… the second son of Count Harrington has come to see you. He heard that you had returned and came rushing over immediately.”

Dominic Harrington?

At the name of his friend whom he had not seen in a long time, Patrick quickly threw on his jacket and went downstairs to the drawing room. Of course, before closing the door, he did not forget to check one more time that the black box was safely hidden beneath the bed.

“…And so, starting next year, I intend to seriously begin building my career in Parliament.”

Warm, pleasant conversation drifted through the half-open doorway.

“Oh my, your mother must be absolutely delighted! What about marriage, then? Is there a young lady you like? Your wife looked very happy at the last gathering.”

“I have met Lady Sotheby several times. Unless something unexpected happens, I intend to propose to her.”

Peeking discreetly through the doorway, Patrick could see the back of his friend as he sat across from his mother, chatting amiably.

“Lady Sotheby, you say! She’s such a proper young lady! Every time I see her, I think how wonderful it would be if she could become our Patrick’s partner!”

“Well, this is rather unfortunate for Patrick.”

“Yes, Dominic. Since you feel sorry for him, why don’t you find someone for our Patrick as well? Isn’t there anyone around?”

“I’ll look into it, Madam.”

Dominic Harrington answered politely, as befitted a well-bred young nobleman. Yet even just looking at the back of his head, covered in bright red hair, it was easy to tell that he was desperately sending out a plea for help.

“Dominic!”

Patrick flung the door wide open and beamed at Dominic.

“Well, well, who do we have here? Isn’t this Dr. Bennett?”

“Doctor, my foot.”

With his trademark genial smile, Dominic Harrington sprang to his feet and embraced Patrick.

“You haven’t even been home for a few hours. How on earth did you know I was back?”

“The maids at our house were making a fuss about the handsome Viscount of House Bennett having returned. Must be nice being so popular.”

Dominic whistled and grinned. His usual mischievousness was plainly visible on his cheeks, which were dusted with tiny light-brown freckles.

“Wait, this isn’t the time for this.”

Dominic took a pocket watch from his pocket, clicked open the lid, and checked the time. Then he leaned toward Mrs. Bennett and spoke with shameless charm.

“May I borrow this handsome son of yours for a little while, Madam?”

“Oh my, already?”

“I know it’s rude of me to whisk away your son when he has only just arrived. But, Madam, please understand. I’ve been waiting for this friend of mine for years, after all.”

His smooth stream of flattery made the countess cast him a sidelong glance.

“You certainly have a way with words. So, are you saying you’re going out drinking?”

“When friends meet after such a long time, there’s naturally a lot to talk about, and when there’s a lot to talk about, one inevitably gets thirsty.”

“All right. Just don’t come home too late.”

The countess reluctantly gave them permission, but she shot her son, who had caused her no small amount of trouble that morning, a distinctly displeased look.

…After causing all that commotion this morning, you’re going out drinking?

Her displeased gaze seemed rather ominous. Thinking he should at least ease his mother’s mood a little, Patrick quietly approached her.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“As if you will.”

She still looked displeased, but when her normally indifferent son acted unusually affectionate and kissed the back of her hand, the sternness around her eyes softened slightly.

“Don’t think you can simply brush this aside, Patrick. Attend every tea gathering and every ball without fail.”

“Yes, of course.”

Honestly, he was certainly good at answering!

Seeing that his mother’s neatly shaped eyebrows were once again beginning to twitch, Patrick quickly escaped the drawing room.

The nobles of the Kingdom of Brionia could broadly be divided into two groups according to where they lived.

The first consisted of influential families from various regions who returned to their splendid townhouses in Glenbury during the social season. The Bennett and Harrington families, for instance, belonged to this group.

The second consisted of the high-ranking noble families who had originally lived near the Brionian royal palace, in the grand estates of St. Osburn, and whose families had maintained ties with the royal household for generations.

Among the estates of St. Osburn, the Somerset Marquessate undoubtedly boasted the most impressive grounds.

Two annexes stretched out on either side of the central main building like spreading wings, while an enormous garden, rarely seen in this area, surrounded the estate. Its scale was so magnificent that it resembled a small royal palace.

The owner of the grand estate, the Marquess of Somerset, was famous for making excellent use of his enormous residence. During his youth, he had traveled all over the world as a royal envoy, collecting all sorts of fascinating objects and works of art and filling his estate with them.

And right at that moment, three enormous carriages loaded with mountains of luggage were entering the Somerset estate one after another.

“They’re coming! Stand up straight! Line up!”

Led by the elderly butler, Arthur Banks, the housekeeper, maids, coachmen, and gardeners all stood waiting. Every one of them had carefully straightened their clothing and stretched their necks toward the approaching carriages.

At last, the carriage came to a stop. Before Arthur could even step forward to open the door, it was suddenly flung open.

The person who sprang out was a young lady with magnificent golden-blond hair: Beatrice Somerset.

“How has everyone been?”

Her clear green eyes were as pure as spring leaves glistening with dew, her cheeks were rosy, and the corners of her lips curved slightly upward. Despite having traveled quite a long distance, she showed not the slightest sign of fatigue and was bursting with vitality.

“Welcome home, Miss!”

Just as Beatrice and the servants were happily exchanging greetings, a booming voice rang out from the entrance.

“My daughter! Beatrice!”

The famous Marquess of Somerset, who was completely helpless when it came to his beloved youngest daughter, came rushing out without a thought for his dignity.

His comfortable build seemed rather ill-suited to running, but even as he panted repeatedly, the marquess beamed broadly and opened both arms toward his daughter.

In stark contrast to her husband, the Marchioness of Somerset emerged gracefully with her head held high. She was the very embodiment of a noblewoman whose every movement was marked by restraint.

With beautiful blond hair and green eyes that Beatrice had clearly inherited from her, she leisurely walked forward without the slightest hurry, even as she watched the noisy reunion between father and daughter.

“My dear, why have you gotten so thin! Have you been losing sleep because of your painting? Have you been skipping meals?”

“Oh, have I lost weight?”

“Of course! You’re practically nothing but bones! What are we going to do?”

Other than the fact that Beatrice had now graduated and was returning home for good, this was a familiar display of fussing that they had witnessed countless times just a few months ago and even before that.

“Stop fussing and move aside. Anyone watching would think we hadn’t seen each other in years.”

The marquess, who had been anxiously caressing his daughter’s cheek, was pushed aside by his wife, who was half a hand taller than him.

“My daughter, I’m so proud of you. Graduating at the top of your class!”

“It’s because I’m Mom’s daughter.”

The Marchioness rarely showed much change in expression, but the deep affection she felt was unmistakable as she warmly embraced her daughter.

“What about me? You have to let Dad join in too, right?”

The marquess grinned broadly and wrapped his arms around his wife and daughter. With only two much older sons, Beatrice, the youngest daughter of the family, was the precious treasure of the marquess and his wife.

Meanwhile, the servants were busy unloading Beatrice’s luggage.

Large canvases and easels, plaster statues of every size tightly wrapped in cloth, and countless small studies—the sheer amount was on an entirely different scale from the works she usually brought home during school breaks.

“Sorry, everyone, and thank you. It’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“Not at all, Miss!”

Fortunately, several years earlier, the marquess had already converted the eastern greenhouse into a studio for his daughter. Thanks to that, Beatrice’s countless works could be moved directly into the estate without having to worry about where to put them.

“We just have to unwrap everything, so I’ll show you what I’ve been working on lately. Come on!”

“All right, all right. Let’s have a look.”

Happily playing along with Beatrice’s eager urging, the marquess and marchioness walked into the estate.

“To be honest, I never thought I’d actually graduate at the top of my class. You know, right? Everyone gave me such a hard time, asking what a woman, especially a noblewoman, was doing at an art college!”

“Of course I know… I certainly do.”

“Oh, honestly… It wasn’t just once or twice! They kept saying that a lady destined to become part of high society shouldn’t be mingling with commoner men in a place like that… They kept telling me I’d never be able to marry! Every time I heard it, I just burned with anger…”

When they had fallen a little behind the excited Beatrice, who was chattering away enthusiastically, the Marchioness, who had been silently following them, suddenly poked her husband in the side.

‘When are you going to tell Beatrice?’

‘Not today. Tomorrow.’

They exchanged silent signals.

The Marquess of Somerset stubbornly refused, making it clear that today, of all days, would not do. His wife frowned, evidently frustrated by her husband’s reluctance.