CH 18

“Have you finished cooking yet?”

“This is the last one!”

Shouts flew in from all directions. Flames leapt high in the air from the grill, and the chef moved the pans tirelessly, stir-frying the ingredients.

Off to one side of the kitchen, a dessert maker carefully traced patterns in pie dough, while sturdy servants in sleeveless robes walked back and forth in front of the ovens, baking pies and bread.

In the kitchen, Amelie had nothing better to do, so she volunteered to grate cheese and decorate bread in a corner.

Actually, it was a lot more fun than dealing with leering eyes in the lobby. Plates of food would arrive in front of her, she’d carefully grate and sprinkle the cheese, slide it back to the waiter, and they’d take the plate and go off on their own.

While she continued with her monotonous task, the servants’ chatter blossomed. The cook’s assistant, shaping the bread dough, winked and giggled.

“I think that waiter likes Amelie.”

“Is he the only one? Everyone who’s come in today has eyes for Amelie.”

Sure enough, the dapperly dressed waiters had been trying to catch her eye earlier.

When Amelie apologised for spilling the cheese powder, one of the waiters raised his eyes cheekily and said there was nothing to be sorry about, that it was cheese from the goddess and that noblemen should be grateful and eat it, making everyone laugh.

“Now she says only desserts are to be brought to the hall!”

The kitchen door swung open and the waiter stuck his neck out to shout.

“Alright, put the fire pits away, and get the sugar sweets ready!”

As the chef’s instructions were followed and the place was tidied up, Amelie put down her cheese and took a moment to catch her breath.

There were only a few more days left of work at the manor. Tonight was going to be a good one.

* * *

This is strange.

Georges asked his subordinate to watch the carriage house for a moment, then headed for the outbuilding where loud music filled the air.

As he slowly walked half a circle around the lake, which was large enough for boating. He noticed something a little strange as he approached the backyard.

The Duke of Dampierre?

There he was, smiling warmly, surrounded by young apprentice maids in a darkened backyard. Why would he be here…?

He was about to approach him, feeling a little nervous, when one of the apprentice maids, who was just tucking bills into the front of her apron, spotted Georges.

“Georges is really close to Amélie, really close!”

Georges’s face immediately lit up with alarm. Most of the maids before Olivier were younger apprentices, and they seemed almost giddy with joy at being in the presence of the handsome duke.

“Now, that’s it, you young ladies, go on in.”

Glancing at the valet, the Duke waved goodbye to the maids as if his business was done. With a twinkle in his dashing eye and a mock bow, the maids giggled and scattered.

“…”

Dangerous. Georges’s face hardened in instinctive rejection.

The duke, who wore a handsome smile, gave a frighteningly gentle laugh before the maids disappeared around the corner of the building.

The moonlit back streets were now silent.

“…Valet.”

The little duke turned lazily and called out to Georges.

“…Yes, yes…”

Georges glanced at the duke and quickly looked away. His spine stiffened at the brief but overly frosty glance.

“How close is too close?”

Even though he was a nobleman, his face was extremely cold as he cut straight to the chase without any greetings. Georges’s timid face stiffened even more.

“We’ve worked in this manor since we were children.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Glad to hear that. Keep it that way from now on.”

“…What do you mean?”

There was a chuckle, and the duke’s voice dropped.

“Bring Amelie Gagnier. You’ll have to sneak her in so that neither the maids nor the butlers will notice. You take care of it.”

Georges looked up in fear.

“Why do you look for Amélie Gagnier…?”

But as the Duke strode briskly towards him, Georges stopped being afraid and bowed his head deeply.

“I, I beg your pardon, Duke.”

Olivier Dampierre was not only a man of high rank, he was actually a foot and a half taller.

Trapped in the great shadow cast by the little duke, Georges hunched his shoulders and dropped his head.

“I want her. Overnight.”

In the darkness, the little Duke laughed. Georges’s heart sank with a thud. What if he searched for another maid? But not with Amélie Gagnier… There was no one else like her. Absolutely not!

When he had a family one day, he wanted Amélie Gagnier to be with him. He had imagined her in a cotton gown and a wedding in a small chapel.

Of course, it was still a fantasy he kept to himself, but it was one that never left his mind.

Georges pleaded helplessly.

“But Your Grace, it cannot be done. Not with Amélie…”

“Why? Are other maidservants allowed?”

Olivier narrowed his eyes carefully.

“The fact is that…”

The naïve valet was so impatient that he made the mistake of opening up to the little duke.

“I, I was going to confess. My first love.”

“Love…?”

The Duke was stunned. Love, love.

The kind of love where you say you love someone and then you can just as easily change, abandon them, and move on to someone new.

“I wonder.”

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Olivier’s mouth as he reached for his wallet.

“I wonder how much your heart weighs…”

Georges’s face went white as the bills slipped from his white gloved fingertips.

“No, I won’t take the money.”

He wasn’t going to back down. His fists balled up, he mustered up the courage to face the duke.

“I’m not that kind of person…”

“You’d better hold your tongue, valet.”

Olivier smirked. For the first time, Georges realised that a piece of paper could make such a loud sound, and the amount in his hand swelled unbearably.

“Now, what do you think?”

Finally, a thick wad of bills was thrust in front of his face. Georges’ lips tightened into a hard line.

“Come on, take it.”

Georges’ hand trembled. Judging by the thickness of the bills, it was enough money to keep him alive for years without working.

Georges squeezed his eyes shut.

“Duke, why, why do you go to such lengths…”

“Because it makes me feel dirty to talk about love with you.”

“…”

He couldn’t figure out what kind of harassment this was, or why he was doing this to him. But in the end, Georges had sold his soul for a bundle of money.

With trembling hands, he took the money from the Duke. He looked around as if to see who was watching, and blushed. As Georges hastily shoved the wad of bills into his pocket, the little duke clicked his tongue in derision.

“Come on, valet. Move.”

Even in the moonlight, he could clearly see the reddened face of the valet. Olivier, watching his back as he ran, smiled wryly. So love is an illusion. Today proved it once again.

To say with confidence that you love someone, if that love is real. You should have refused my money, even if it meant being stabbed to death. You should have protected Amélie Gagnier at all costs.

You cowardly bastard.

Glancing at the spot where the valet had disappeared, Olivier took out his cigar again, and as he stared at the dark, shimmering ripples of the lake, he thought of Amélie Gagnier.

The maid, too. Would it all come down to money?

She didn’t seem like a very nice person. He’s only seen her once, but that might be for the best.

She seemed like a woman who would be cautious, but who would fulfil her promise once she had the money. She didn’t reveal herself, just enough, and she seemed to disappear into the darkness.

As he held the small body that was slowly fell into his arms, he was reminded of the moment when he was surprised by the high fever that suddenly rose. It was also a rare moment for him not to feel repulsed…

He wondered how many times he had looked back on that moment. With a bitter smile, a pale mist scattered into the air.