His expression did not soften, but he did lift his head, leaning it back against the trunk of the tree as he regarded me more openly.
I shifted where I sat, uneasy under his attention. What was it with this boy and his stare? He watched people as though propriety meant nothing to him, openly examining them while they stood right before him.
His gaze was always sharp, almost intrusive—like parchment being inspected before ink touched it, as though every detail was being measured and recorded.
I raised a brow, silently prompting him to speak.
He remained quiet for a long moment, simply observing me. I was already preparing an excuse in my head, ready to flee the instant an opening appeared.
Then he laughed—softly.
I blinked, startled. That reaction was the last thing I expected. Still, laughter was better than anger. At least it suggested I hadn't completely doomed myself.
"What is your name?" he asked.
That made it worse.
I shook my head slightly, still caught in the moment. What was I supposed to do now? Lie? If he uncovered the lie later, I'd surely be punished for deception. But if I told him my real name, wouldn't I be walking straight into the lion's jaws?
I hesitated, thoughts tangled.
His voice cut through them, sharper this time.
"I do not like repeating myself, servant."
I looked at him, irritation flickering at the word. It was how nobles always addressed those beneath them, yet given the strange situation—where I was pretending ignorance of his identity—I could not afford to show even a trace of deference.
This was perhaps the only moment I could act freely toward someone like him. That was, of course, assuming he wouldn't later decide my head belonged on the estate gate.
I studied him again. Strangely, he didn't look offended. He showed no anger at my behavior, no sign of irritation at my refusal to acknowledge him properly. Any other noble would have already called for guards.
"What do you mean by 'servant'?" I snapped. "Aren't you one too? Or do you trample those beside you just to feel grander? How pitiful."
I froze inwardly. That was far too much.
I didn't even give him a chance to reply.
"Anyway—my name—why do you even want to know? That seems—"
"—Clare!" a voice shouted from a distance.
My eyes widened.
Damn it. Cole.
What crime had I committed in some past life to deserve such an unrelenting nuisance? He clung like a stubborn pest that refused to disappear.
I turned sharply toward the young Duke. His face remained calm, unbothered by everything that had just happened. In fact, he raised a brow, the corner of his lips lifting faintly.
"Oh?" he said. "Clare, is it?"
I didn't have time for this.
Cole absolutely could not see me sitting beside the young Duke. The moment he recognized him, he would kneel, announce his title, and make it painfully clear just how casually—and insultingly—I had been speaking.
I had gone too far to break the act now.
I stood up at once. "Ah—sir. Or… servant. I truly have no idea who you are, but perhaps we may speak again another time, if fate allows. I must leave now."
Before he could respond, I gathered my skirts and ran—fast, in the opposite direction of Cole entirely. I had no intention of dealing with either of them tonight.
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