“That was inappropriate behavior.”
“What did I do?”
I blinked as if I had no idea what he was talking about. Edmund raised an eyebrow and gave me a disapproving look.
He clearly didn’t like the way I was trying to brush it off.
Clatter—at that moment, the carriage jolted roughly. Fortunately, Lillian, who was sleeping with her head on my lap, didn’t wake up. She just let out a faint groan. I gently brushed away the silver strands of hair that had fallen over her pale cheek and smiled wryly.
I knew it. I had been unusually generous.
Since when did I start being so kind as to correct a rude person and send them on their way?
Maybe it was because the weather was nice today, the breeze was refreshing, and I didn’t want to ruin this precious time with Lillian.
Or maybe it was because someone else had stepped up to defend me before I could.
It had been a long time since I felt protected within someone else’s boundaries.
“Thank you.”
Feeling a bit embarrassed by my sincerity, I bit my lip.
“…”
Through the transparent window, I could faintly see Edmund staring at me. So, until we arrived at the villa, I tried my best to focus only on the scenery.
That afternoon, we enjoyed seafood dishes, a specialty of the region.
Rail, who also served as an assistant, visited, and Edmund left for his office. Though he had accompanied us at Lillian’s request, he couldn’t spend the entire day on vacation—there was too much work waiting for him now that he had reclaimed the Duke’s household after nine years.
After dismissing the maids, Lillian and I took a walk along the sunset-lit beach, chatting. We took off our shoes, dipped our feet into the still-chilly sea, and returned with sand clinging to them.
When a maid temporarily assigned to the villa saw us and rushed over in shock, Lillian and I looked at each other and burst into laughter.
As soon as I changed my clothes and stepped out, the maid handed me a package wrapped in kraft paper. She said it had been sent by the legal advisor of the Buel family.
I didn’t need to open it to know what it was. I excused myself from Lillian and took some time alone.
Sipping tea, I stared at the diary placed in the center of the table as if I were engaged in a staring contest. My heart felt unsettled, but as the dusk deepened, I finally picked it up.
The Count of Buel—my father—wasn’t a man of many words. If anything, he spoke too little. He neither smothered me with discipline nor neglected me. He was kind, but our emotional connection was weak, so I could only catch glimpses of his affection through his gaze or small gestures.
He was often away on business trips, leaving me alone more times than I could count. Because of that, I assumed he resented me for causing my mother’s death at birth.
That’s why I grew up craving affection, always feeling lonely, attracting people like Verita and Devon—mere nuisances.
Harboring bitterness, I rushed into marriage with Devon, almost defiantly, against my father’s wishes. It angered me that he only allowed me to act like a daughter once his illness had worsened.
Whenever that happened, he would smile sadly, his expression twisted with sorrow.
Remembering that smile, a cold wind seemed to scrape across my heart.
Feeling a little heavy-hearted, I opened the first page and was utterly dumbfounded.
[Don’t leave your carrots, Etricia.]
“What is this?”
It was like pouring cold water over my sentimental moment.
Feeling uneasy, I hurriedly flipped through the pages—one, then another, then another. When I finally reached the last page, I let out a hollow laugh.
It was filled only with reflections on work and plans—there wasn’t a single mention of me.
Leaving my carrots was the only thing he had to say to me? I wasn’t a child anymore.
I let out a small chuckle and closed the diary when suddenly, a note slipped out from between the pages, landing on the table.
The paper had aged, turning the color of straw over time.
I instinctively unfolded it. The rough tears along the edges suggested that it had been torn from the diary.
The writing seemed like a collection of scattered thoughts jotted down in the moment.
[Education is no longer a privilege reserved for men, so learn well. If you have something you want to explore, pursue it relentlessly. Don’t become complacent just because you are well-off, Etricia.
And… you give your heart away completely when you love, which worries me. Yesterday, you didn’t even come out to see me off because Verita was with you—it seems you love your sister very much.]
I laughed at the last sentence. He must have been really upset about it.
I continued reading the remaining message.
[Etricia, you don’t have to be extraordinary or exceptional. Even if you are not outstanding, you are still my proud daughter. Just stay healthy and grow up happy, like that sunset.]
He had left behind words he never said to me while he was alive.
As I read the date and location written at the bottom, something welled up inside me.
“Why here of all places?”
The note had been written right here, on this very beach.
With that small realization, it felt as if a locked box had been opened, and all my emotions spilled out. It was as if he was right beside me, watching over me with warmth.
‘I didn’t plan to cry.’
For the first time, I allowed myself to be vulnerable. I glared at the note through my tear-filled eyes, letting my tears fall silently.
I resented my father for making my childhood so lonely, yet I also felt guilty for not understanding his true feelings for the past four years.
My tears smudged the faded paper like ink stains, but I didn’t have time to care.
As memories of my marriage flashed through my mind, I buried my face in the note, using my tears as an excuse.
When I finally pulled myself together, moonlight was streaming through the slightly open door.
Edmund, who had been bringing a handkerchief from a maid, suddenly stopped.
His shadow stretched over the marble floor, cast by the window’s latticework illuminated by moonlight.
How long had he been standing there?
Edmund let out a deep sigh, his eyes shutting tightly.
Just moments ago, he had been on his way to check on Etricia at Lillian’s request. She had worried that Etricia might be struggling alone after seeing their father’s belongings.
Edmund had assumed it was unnecessary. He thought she would be her usual self, smiling as always.
But the moment he saw her crying into the note, it felt like a blow to the head.
It wasn’t the first time he had seen her cry.
He had witnessed her fear of heights, her surprise at cold ice. He had seen her vulnerable moments.
And yet, he had always thought of her as strong. He never realized how well she hid her pain behind her usual playful demeanor.
She was someone who said she was fine even when she wasn’t.
Someone who had no place to lean on, so she held it all in until she finally broke down over a diary.
Edmund let out a bitter laugh.
For the first time in a long while, he felt powerless.
*********
It was the second day of the summer retreat.
Rail, who had just finished giving his report, looked up and glanced out the window across from him.
He smiled faintly at the sky, which was turning from bluish to a soft apricot color.
At that moment, the curtain fluttered in the breeze, revealing the beach that had been hidden.
Rail spotted two women walking along the shore and smiled in satisfaction.
“They both look like they’re enjoying themselves.”
Flinch—Edmund’s hand, which had been signing with a fountain pen, suddenly stopped.
Noticing the slight slip in the signature, Rail handed him the same document again with a curious look.
It was a moment that showed Edmund’s careful nature.
As Edmund quickly signed the new document, he began to speak.
“There’s a portrait in the mansion’s storage left behind by Countess Buell, right?”
“Yes, but it’s practically discarded.”
“Find someone who can restore it. Offer to pay whatever price they ask.”
Maybe seeing it would make her feel a little better.
His soft voice was lost in the sound of the wind.
Rail didn’t miss that faint tone and bowed silently.
He had just heard that Lady Etricia had not left her room all morning after receiving her father’s journal from the staff the day before.
“Yes, understood.”
Shortly after Rail left, Edmund stood up.
With his arms crossed, he leaned against the window frame and quietly watched the two women walking along the beach.
Then, after a while, the two parted ways.
When he saw one of them suddenly collapse onto the sand, Edmund’s eyes widened in alarm.
Maybe she cried all night and passed out from exhaustion?
Without a second thought, he grabbed the window frame and jumped out, landing smoothly from the second floor.
A maid passing by let out a scream and dropped to the ground in shock, but Edmund didn’t even notice.
Reaching the beach quickly, he scanned the area with his amber-colored eyes, searching for something redder than the sunset.
Ha—he let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair.
Then, without meaning to, his eyes landed on a woman.
She was picking up seashells in a corner of the beach.
Only then did Edmund feel like he could breathe again.
He relaxed his furrowed brow and walked toward her without hesitation.
The woman looked up with wide eyes at the shadow that fell over her.
