Chapter 30
I am uncertain as to what transpired, but Baron Fondy had declared that today's lesson ought to take place outdoors. Fresh air, he had claimed. But no, that alone was not sufficient, he had also determined that our setting should be a boat. To further solidify his absurd whims, he had even provided me with coins for our expenditures.
Benjamin's enthusiasm became a force beyond mortal comprehension as soon as those words left the baron's lips. And so, here we were.
As I stood in line to procure tickets for a private boat, Benjamin and Jim frolicked in the grass with other children, engaging in a most chaotic game of chase. I observed as Benjamin puffed out his chest, valiantly defending Jim whenever some ill-mannered child dared to mock him for being a slave. A gallant little knight, indeed.
Behind the stall stretched a vast and extravagant lake, its surface adorned with boats, their white sails pristine under the sunlight. It was all far too extravagant, clearly a space designed for nobles. A single glance around confirmed it. Luxury dripped from every corner, from the embroidered parasols shading delicate noblewomen to the polished silverware laid out on floating dining decks. Truly, being here, amidst such excess felt like a personal insult.
At a distance, a nobleman fell to one knee, presenting a ring to a noblewoman. I nearly laughed aloud. Did they not know their own statistics? The divorce rate among nobles was so abysmal I could blink, and by the time my eyes reopened, at least one of them would have annulled their vows.
"I shall pay you double," the man before me declared.
"I apologize, sir," the attendant behind the counter responded with rehearsed politeness. "But the tickets are sold out. We have no more boats available today."
The woman beside the nobleman stomped her foot like a spoiled child denied a sweet. "Do you know who we are?!"
Ah, there it was, the infamous noble declaration of self-importance. I bit back the urge to offer a scathing retort. How utterly tragic it must be to believe the world revolves around you, only to find it does not.
"I shall pay you triple," the man pressed on. "I demand you evacuate a boat for us."
If he were truly so wealthy, why not simply purchase his own boat? The very ground beneath his feet is presently offended by his existence.
I turned and made my way toward Benjamin. The moment he caught sight of me, he seized Jim's wrist and the two of them dashed toward me.
"Is it our turn?" Benjamin asked, eyes shimmering with excitement.
I opened my mouth, fully prepared to deliver the unfortunate news, but before I could utter a single word, my ears were drawn to a conversation unfolding nearby.
"The Duchess of Ivoryspire is here with her son," one of the women murmured to her companion. She flicked her fan ever so slightly in a particular direction.
Despite myself, my traitorous eyes followed. And there she was, Millicent, seated on a bench in the distance, seemingly preoccupied with fixing Vincent's cravat.
"I thought she had already left Zalvanica?" the other woman, adorned with striking blue hair, inquired.
"I believed so as well, yet it appears she remains and is frequently seen at the palace. Which must mean it is true, Prince Kaldric and she are courting," the pink-haired one speculated.
"That is false," I declared before my brain could properly intercept the thought.
Ah.
My gaze drifted toward the sky in contemplation. Had I, perchance, ingested some manner of elixir that rendered me incapable of restraining my tongue? Ordinarily, my mind had the good sense to dismiss gossip about nobles entirely. Was I suffering from exhaustion?
The two women turned their attention toward me.
"Oh?" The blue-haired one smirked. "And you are?" Her gaze roamed over my attire, lips curving into something of a sneer. "Judging by your dress, I presume you accompany a nobleman here as… a mistress."
For fuck's sake, had they not been discussing Millicent's scandalous affair mere moments ago? How had it so swiftly transitioned from that to me being branded a harlot? Where precisely did their thought process take such an unfortunate detour?
"Apologize to my tutor!" Benjamin stepped in front of me, glaring at her.
A valiant little knight. Admirable, truly. But dear boy, you stand on the precipice of a battle that cannot be won with mere glares. Words were a noble's favored weapon, and theirs struck far deeper than any blade.
"My father is Baron Fondy!" Benjamin declared.
The blue-haired woman let out a soft, amused chuckle. "A mere baron."
And there it was. The shift. In the span of mere moments, we had traversed from Millicent's fictitious courtship, to my alleged status as a kept woman, and now, to Benjamin's diminished worth because his father was only a baron.
Truly, the minds of nobles worked in the most bewildering and inefficient ways.
Not wishing to entertain the venomous ramblings of the blue-haired viper, I took Benjamin's hand with the utmost grace.
"There are no more boats available today, Young Lord. Shall we take our lessons to the nearby park instead?" I proposed with a warm smile, attempting to divert his attention before he could descend into heartbreak.
"No more boats?" Benjamin momentarily forgot the two serpents beside us. He blinked up at me, lips trembling. "But I wanted our lesson on the boat-"
"Are you seriously ignoring me?" the blue-haired one interrupted, scandalized by my sheer audacity.
"I am sorry, Young Lord," I continued, deliberately maintaining my focus on Benjamin and resolutely ignoring the shrill interjection. "Shall we try again tomorrow? We can arrive earlier to ensure at least one boat is secured."
The blue-haired woman let out an indignant scoff. "Excuse me?"
I remained on Benjamin, unfazed. "Shall we depart, my dear?"
Benjamin sniffled but nodded. "Then can we at least stop by the ice cream shop?"
"Of course. Anything for our Young Lord." I began leading him away, ignoring the flustered noblewoman sputtering behind us.
"Stay close, Jim," I added over my shoulder.
Benjamin extended his free hand to Jim. "Hold my other hand, Jim."
Truly, these two reminded me of Cecilia and myself. Ah, memories, some sweet, some utterly miserable.
And so, we made our grand departure. However, before we could get far, disaster struck.
A small, white-haired blur launched itself at me with the force of an overenthusiastic cannonball. I was sent tumbling onto the grass. Since I had been holding Benjamin's hand, he fell with me. And since he had been holding Jim's hand, Jim, too, was dragged into our unfortunate descent.
The culprit was none other than four-year-old Vincent Vaneeri. He had somehow climbed onto my lap before I even had the chance to process my fall. His tiny hands gripped fistfuls of my hair, crimson eyes sparkling with absolute glee.
"The pretty lady with white hair like mine! Play with me!" he beamed.
Was this child an escape artist? Had he not been with Millicent mere moments ago? What sorcery had he employed to reach me at such alarming speed? I was well aware that my pace had slowed over the years but surely, I had not been that sluggish? Or had I grown so accustomed to my own gait that I failed to notice just how dreadfully slow I had become?
And, most pressing of all, why, in the name of all that was sacred, was he so utterly enamored with my hair?!