Chapter 15

I turned around, pretending not to hear, but Lambert raised his voice slightly: “Come down, Rosa. Or should I come up and get you?”

Fine, it’s just a meal. After a moment of silence, I lifted my skirt and walked towards the stairs: “No need, I’ll come down myself.”

As I descended the stairs, I felt two gazes on me. One was Lambert’s, which I could easily recognize. The other was Ophelia’s. She wore dark blue gloves, her hands clasped in front of her, and looked at me curiously.

Although I had never attended formal social events, I knew not wearing gloves was extremely rude. This noble lady probably thought I was a coarse village woman. And Lambert, why should I care what he thinks?

I awkwardly hid my hands behind me, feeling inexplicably anxious.

“Come here, Rosa,” Lambert beckoned to me. “This is Miss Ophelia Lancaster.” Ophelia smiled slightly: “Hello, Rosa.”

Embarrassment. How should I tell her that Rosa isn’t my name but a nickname Lambert casually calls me?

As if reading my mind, Lambert lowered his head and thought for a few seconds before saying, “She is Rosalind, my…” The pause was suggestive, making my heartbeat, but he only said, “Friend.”

While I breathed a sigh of relief, my anxiety and disappointment grew stronger. I forced a stiff smile, “Nice to meet you, Duchess.”

She smiled gently, “Call me Ophelia, like His Highness does.” I nodded and then fell into an awkward silence.

In stark contrast to my discomfort, Ophelia was very natural, as if she was in her element, seemingly well-versed in various social situations. Whenever I didn’t know what to say, she quickly introduced a new topic, preventing me from standing awkwardly. Such an understanding woman was impossible to dislike. My initial vague rejection of her turned into gratitude and closeness. If Lambert needed a queen, it should be someone like Ophelia.

During lunch, this thought became even firmer. Because of Ophelia’s presence, the furniture served the meal in an orderly manner. She stood on the path from the kitchen to the dining room like a hostess, pouring sauce over the dishes or arranging the vegetables and fruits.

I asked if she needed help. She smiled and shook her head, “His Highness is over there reading. Go and talk to him. He’s been living here alone for so long. He must be very lonely. Let me handle this.”

These words, these thoughts, and this demeanor truly befit a noble lady. I couldn’t help but feel ashamed of my initial rejection. As I turned to walk towards Lambert, a voice sounded in my ear: “Foolish, truly foolish! Being sold and still helping count the money. Only the mistress has the right to arrange the dishes. She’s using her actions to tell you that you don’t even qualify as a competitor.”

I looked up and saw it was the clock. Its hour and minute hands were furrowed, looking exasperated: “Mrs. Teapot arranges lunch. She just stands there moving her mouth and fingers, aiming to establish her position as the mistress. You retreat without a fight, not even trying to compete, making those of us who support you disappointed…”

“…What?” I was confused by the last sentence, “You, support me?”

The clock snorted, swaying its pendulum, its hour and minute hands raised like bushy eyebrows: “What did you think, that I disliked you? Although you can be quite annoying and crude at times, when Master went mad, even though I was trembling with fear, you bravely faced him. Everyone loves a handsome and wealthy prince, but not necessarily his beastly side.”

How should I respond? I wanted to run away at the time but didn’t have the chance?

“Thank you for the compliment.” I thought for a moment and said softly, “But Ophelia is better at those things than I am, so let her do it.”

Not only because I don’t want to engage in scheming but also because I don’t want to imagine others as despicable. If you habitually speculate about others with malice, even if your life goes smoothly, you will miss out on many bright and gentle sceneries. Ophelia might be trying to establish her position as the mistress, or she might just be trying to help. I prefer to believe the latter.

I spent some time explaining this to the clock. It was silent for a while, then said, “It’s rare for a village girl to have such awareness.”

Since it said that, I felt the need to respond more profoundly: “Precisely because I’m a village girl, I can have this awareness. If I had seen a broader landscape, I might not have been able to maintain this original intention.”

After saying this, I could feel the clock looking at me differently, even though I couldn’t see its eyes. Saying goodbye to the clock, my steps became much lighter. Being recognized and praised made me feel delighted. I glanced at Lambert unintentionally; he was still sitting on the sofa, casually reading a hardcover book with a title in a language I couldn’t understand. His black hair, untrimmed for a long time, covered half of his forehead, making it look even fuller and his nose higher and more prominent. Even with half of his body having beastly features, this man still looked as sacred and dignified as a palace mural.

I organized my thoughts for the conversation, planning to summarize it in two sentences. But as I walked over, before I could speak, he raised a finger to his lips and casually closed the book: “Don’t talk to me.”

“Ah?”

He threw the book onto the coffee table and walked past me without looking, seemingly angry.

But since he didn’t say a word, who knows what he’s angry about?

I was baffled.

During the meal, I thought the atmosphere would be unpleasant, but only Lambert had a cold expression. To be honest, interacting with Ophelia was much easier than with Lambert. She was good at talking and reading the room, never bringing up sensitive topics. Even though I knew these were basic social skills for her, I couldn’t help but consider her a friend.
After the meal, Lambert threw his napkin on the plate and turned to go upstairs. Ophelia wanted to talk to him but was left standing there. Seeing her lonely figure, I felt a mix of emotions, wanting to comfort her but unsure of my role. She watched Lambert’s figure disappear around the corner, lowered her head, and said sadly, “His Highness seems like a different person. He used to be so elegant and would never leave the table so rudely. Miss Rosalind, did you see the black scales on the back of his neck? Even though they were hidden under his clothes, I still saw them. It’s so terrifying! Expelling the witch was definitely the right decision; witchcraft is truly evil! I panicked for half a day over a boil on my back, and I can’t imagine how His Highness feels now.”

Perhaps her privileged upbringing made her thoughts as pure and clear as lilies. Not just men, even I was drawn to her simple kindness. Only someone with a heart of stone wouldn’t like her.

I walked over, wanting to hold her hand to comfort her, but feared she might find it offensive. Unexpectedly, she took my hand first: “It’s so good to have you here. Facing this situation alone would be very sad. I’m glad to meet you, Miss Rosalind. You are even more beautiful than Prince Ulysses described.”

“Thank you, you are beautiful too.” Ulysses? Why is it related to Ulysses again?

What puzzled me even more was that her cheeks turned slightly pink: “When His Highness told me that his beloved is you, I found it incredible… You know, His Highness is the most sought-after person in the country right now.”

Her words struck me like a thunderbolt, leaving me bewildered. Lambert admitted that his beloved is me? Doesn’t she like Lambert? Why does she look so pleased?

I felt something was off, and sure enough, the next second, she continued: “Although compared to His Highness Lambert, His Highness Ulysses is much less impressive, that’s because the comparison is with His Highness Lambert… In many people’s hearts, His Highness Ulysses is still exceptionally outstanding. It’s amazing that you captured his heart. Can you tell me how you made His Highness fall for you? I want to try it on His Highness Lambert…”

Ulysses told her that his beloved is me?

So, she has no hostility towards me because she thinks the person I like is Ulysses? What would happen if I told her now that the person I like is Lambert? Suddenly, I didn’t dare to think further. Although I habitually think well of people, it doesn’t mean I don’t know that human nature can’t withstand tests.

I smiled wearily and brushed off the topic. Planning to see what Lambert was upset about, I walked upstairs and heard a melodious yet heavy piano sound. I had never heard such moving music before, combining the grandeur and resonance of a church organ with the delicacy and sorrow of a minstrel’s lute.

Following the music, I walked through the corridor and gently pushed open the double doors, seeing Lambert sitting at a grand piano. His head was bowed, and his long, strong hands were gracefully striking the keys. The buzzing sound of the hammers hitting the strings filled the air. From behind, his neck’s sharp lines and his straight shoulders were visible, each finger like a taut bowstring, full of powerful yet elegant strength.

I originally planned to confront him, tell him my doubts, and ask for his true thoughts. But seeing this scene, I suddenly didn’t want to know his thoughts anymore. We are not suitable for each other; even if we both have feelings, we are still not suitable.

I come from a humble background, not a noble family, and have never read a lady’s handbook. Even in the most luxurious dress, I don’t look like a lady. I only know how to chop wood, farm, and feed horses. No matter how much I care for my hands, they are still full of work marks. He has always lived a privileged life, and even though he rides and practices swordsmanship, his skin is still more delicate than mine.

A woman like Ophelia is more suitable for him. She comes from a noble family, has received a good education, and can help him maintain appearances and take care of guests. They have seen the same things since childhood and probably share many views and topics. Unlike me, I am really not suitable for him.

Moreover, I have fallen for him, but the curse has not been lifted, which means he actually does not like me. The truth has always been in front of me, but I just didn’t want to believe it.

At this moment, the piano music reached its most brilliant and intense part. He was so engrossed in playing that he didn’t notice me. I took two steps back, gently closed the door, and turned to leave.

Back in my room, I changed into a shirt and pants and lay on the bed, thinking about how to say goodbye to him. I’ve been away for so long, my father must be worried sick.

Lambert is not an unloved beast; even if Ophelia doesn’t like him, there are thousands of Ophelias lining up to break his curse. I shouldn’t worry about him anymore.

Then, a woman’s scream came from downstairs.

It was Ophelia. What happened?