Garden of May - Chapter 17
Chapter 17
“River Ross.”
“Yes?”
Vanessa, limping slightly, approached. Her eyes widened at ‘River Ross’s’ reflexive response to her words. ‘River Ross,’ belatedly realizing his slip-up, flustered, waved his hands.
“Ah, no.”
Vanessa tilted her head quizzically, then politely requested, “Excuse me, but would you mind giving us a moment? I need to ask River Ross… for some advice on a new rose variety.”
Theodore couldn’t help but burst out laughing. The woman’s sharp glare immediately shot towards him, but the pleasant laughter, once started, didn’t easily subside.
‘What to do, Vanessa. Unfortunately, it seems there’s no one here gullible enough to fall for your lie.’
“Um… but, well, I…”
The real River Ross, fidgeting nervously, kept glancing at Theodore, as if seeking permission, even though it wasn’t necessary. As soon as Theodore nodded, he bowed deeply and hurried off to the other side of the garden. Theodore’s lips curved into a smirk at his clumsy retreat.
It was Ross, the gardener, who advised the Duke to pretend to be his nephew, River Ross. All publicly available photographs and portraits of Theodore were from when he was around eight years old. Someone with a keen eye might grow suspicious. If the old gardener, who had long been devoted to the family, vouched for him, the chances of being discovered would significantly decrease.
As it happened, no one here knew the young River Ross anymore. So, he had unintentionally stolen his subordinate’s name, but he didn’t think it was a big deal. After this summer, the unwelcome guest would disappear without a trace, as if she had never been here.
“River Ross. Are you listening?”
Theodore gathered his thoughts at the sudden voice. Vanessa’s clear face, looking up at him, now held unconcealed anxiety.
She already looked desperately urgent. It seemed a terribly tiresome future lay ahead if things got any more complicated. Theodore answered with an impeccably polite expression.
“I am listening.”
“Let’s talk.”
“I’m not sure what we have to talk about, my lady.”
“River. Why are you acting like this?”
Theodore strode past the bewildered Vanessa, deeper into the rose garden. As he picked up the canteen he had left under a tree, Vanessa hurriedly followed. With each limping step, the white ribbon tied around her slender left ankle fluttered.
Finally overtaking him, Vanessa stretched her arms out to the sides, blocking his path.
“Listen, the date for my engagement has been set.”
“Congratulations.”
“It’s to Count Roden.”
Theodore, about to take a drink from his canteen, paused and looked down at Vanessa. Count Roden was a man over fifty. He had amassed some wealth through mining, but rumors abounded about him being a lecher who’d bedded every pretty maidservant in his household.
After the story of him impregnating a war widow who worked for him and then abandoning her and the child spread like wildfire through Linden’s social circles, Theodore thought every family willing to give their daughter to that trash had gone extinct.
Theodore clicked his tongue. It seemed Count Somerset had chosen the worst of the worst. He almost regretted his perfunctory congratulations. Of course, his human sympathy aside, the woman was still a nuisance. He stood, leaning casually against the tree, and looked at Vanessa askance.
“If you’re in such a hurry, why don’t you just buy yourself a man instead of bothering me?”
Vanessa shook her head, her face etched with melancholy. “I’m under strict restrictions. I’m less closely watched within the castle grounds, at least.”
“Bringing someone here would solve the problem.”
“Everyone allowed in here is employed by my uncle.”
“Bribe a doctor. A few coins will get you the testimony you desire.”
“That wouldn’t cause enough of a scandal. They could just silence him somehow. But a pregnancy… that’s not so easily hidden.”
Theodore raised an eyebrow. He was starting to find this situation rather tiresome.
“Then run away, Vanessa. Far away.”
“Even if I leave, I’ll have to return to this country someday. That’s why it’s crucial for me to dissuade my uncle.”
“Do you have a secret lover living nearby?”
“My parents are buried not far from here. I’m the only one who cares for their graves.”
“So you’d rather endure all this humiliation and remain here? For your dead parents? To be paraded around as Somerset’s w***e, fodder for society gossip?”
