FOU – Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“So? Why did he come?”

Emily’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as Dylan entered the room. Dylan collapsed onto the bed beside her, letting out a weary sigh.

“Just as I expected,” Dylan murmured, her voice husky, as though clogged with unspoken thoughts.

Emily leaned in; her ears keen for any hint of this ‘expectation.’

Suddenly, Emily staggered with a light bout of dizziness, a sensation she hadn’t felt in a while. Dylan had promised she would catch a rabbit for Emily to regain her strength. After a hasty departure, Dylan had returned in a state of frantic urgency, practically charging into the house as though something had set her tail ablaze.

“A guest is coming,” she had said.

“A guest?” Emily had echoed, confused.

“An unwelcome one. Stay in your room, Emily. Don’t come out.”

Before Emily could ask further, Dylan had pushed her firmly back into her room and made her swear not to leave unless told to do so. Despite that, Dylan had hurried to wash herself, stripping off what she called her “work rags” and changing into a clean dress. She even adorned herself with her topaz hair ornament… a piece she reserved only for the most distinguished of visitors… and gathered her hair into a neat, elegant updo.

Emily was naturally baffled and suspicious of her. It was an unusually elaborate preparation for an unwelcome guest.

‘Who could it possibly be?’ Emily wondered.

Her gaze turned to the window, and after what seemed like an eternity of watching, a carriage pulled up in the distance. She held her breath, her eyes widening as a figure alighted from the carriage… It was a man she had heard of but never dreamed she’d see in person.

The Marquis of Northerland, the heir of the Duke of Sutherwick… Cedric Roden Hayworth.

Good heavens! Good heavens!

Emily clapped her hands over her mouth in awe, stunned to witness a celebrity of such high stature for the first time in her life. A wave of excitement coursed through her as she sat up straight, like a dutiful younger sister awaiting news of what Dylan would reveal.

“As expected? What was as expected? What did you two talk about?” Emily pressed.

Dylan, gazing up at her, wore an expression less jubilant and more… gloomy.

Emily’s heart beat faster. Why did she look so grim?

“Why? What’s wrong?” As Emily inquired as she blinked in anxious anticipation.

Dylan parted her lips slowly and said, “He came to propose marriage.”

“Oh, my goodness, Sister!” Emily gasped, her voice bursting with joy. She sprang forward and wrapped her arms around Dylan, who lay awkwardly beside her.

“Oh, my goodness! My sister will be a marchioness… no, a future duchess! How exciting!”

“Well… I don’t think he came for me.” Dylan’s quiet voice deflated Emily’s joy.

Emily drew back, bewildered.

“Then…?”

Dylan raised a finger and pointed directly at Emily’s forehead.

“You.”

Emily blinked, touched her forehead with a puzzled finger, and repeated, “Me? But that doesn’t make any sense! Given our ages, it makes more sense for it to be you!”

The Marquis was twenty-eight, and Dylan was twenty-three. In comparison, Emily was only seventeen, so her reasoning was quite plausible. However, Dylan scoffed as if the prediction was absurd.

“I know. But believe me, he came looking for you, Emily.”

“Why—?”

“And if I may offer my personal opinion,” Dylan continued, her tone hardening, “I am absolutely against it, Emily. He’s much older than you, and his romantic entanglements are far too complicated to discuss. As your sister, I cannot approve of your marriage to someone like him.”

“Dylan!” Emily cried out, shocked by the harsh judgment aimed at the man that was still downstairs.

Dylan merely shrugged, looking unbothered. “You read the newspapers too, don’t you?”

Actresses, dancers, opera singers, married women, divorced women… all types of women had been swept into the whirlwind of his romantic escapades. It was, to put it mildly, a notoriously flamboyant love life.

“He even has a lover right now. Remember the article from two days ago?”

Dylan added, propping her chin on her hand as she lay on her stomach, her eyes flashing with clear distaste.

Cedric’s most recent lover was a widow and divorcee named Katarina Rothum, whose romantic affairs alone were enough to heat the press. Of course, rumors were rife that she wasn’t Cedric’s only lover.

Emily knew all this, partly because Cedric fascinated her… not romantically, but as one might admire a distant star. And partly because Dylan seemed oddly obsessed with him. Strangely, Dylan would casually skim over other gossip articles but would always point out articles about the Marquis of Northerland with a disapproving shake of her head.

“Tsk, living up to his looks. He’ll regret it someday,” she would mutter.

She would say.

“Well… Maybe he won’t be like that after marriage.”

For some reason, Emily felt sorry for the Marquis, who received such a harsh evaluation from her sister even before they’d met. Emily cautiously sided with Cedric, but Dylan shook her head firmly.

“Emily, here’s something you need to remember.”

“What’s that?”

“You can never fix a person.”

“Who said that?”

“Mom did.”

‘But Sister, you were only six when Mom passed away.’ Emily silently thought.

Emily stilled. Dylan had been offering such life wisdom for as long as Emily could remember, always citing their mother as the source. But Emily knew, with an uncomfortable certainty, that the woman who had passed away when Dylan was only six could never have spoken such jaded words. What mother would impart such weary advice to a child?

But whether or not Dylan had noticed Emily’s disbelief, she continued in the same firm tone.

“There are things in this world that never change. And as your sister, I do not want you to become the wife of someone whose life seems dedicated to cycling through lovers and his name splashed across the front pages of every newspaper in the land.”

Strangely, Dylan, who had often spoken up against the gossip columns and dismissed them as lies, seemed to hold a certainty about Cedric’s character that bordered on personal knowledge. Emily couldn’t shake the feeling that Dylan’s vehement condemnation of the man was fueled by something deeper… something that, perhaps, Emily wasn’t privy to.

A suspicion that Dylan wouldn’t want crept into Emily’s heart. Just as strong denial can be a sign of strong affirmation, couldn’t strong dislike also be a sign of a strong… something else?

“But it’s true that the duke’s family is an incredibly good match for us. Father even said they’re a family to whom we owe a considerable debt.” Emily feigned ignorance and presented a reasonable argument.

In truth, if Cedric proposed, rejecting him would be far from simple. While it was not unheard of for an unmarried woman to decline a suitor’s hand, the identity of that suitor carried weight. Refusing the proposal of someone they owed a debt to was akin to insulting them directly.

“That’s right. So, what choice do we have but to make sure our dear Marquis never officially proposes to you?”

Dylan sighed saying, “It might be impossible… but do what you can to avoid him. Don’t allow yourself to be alone with him under any circumstances.”

Emily tilted her head, curious. “Why not you, though?”

Dylan blinked. “Me?”

“Isn’t it possible he’s interested in you, and not me?”

There it was… the question that had taken root in her thoughts, blooming now into words.

If she were a man, Emily thought, she would have chosen Dylan. Her sister was charming, assertive, and warm-hearted. Though Emily was aware her familial affections might be clouding her judgment.

But why wasn’t Dylan entertaining the possibility? If Cedric were truly such a terrible man, then it would be Dylan who had the greater cause for concern.

But at Emily’s question, Dylan merely rolled her eyes and displayed a vague, unreadable expression.

“That could absolutely never happen, Emily.” Her tone was somewhat resolute.

“However,” Dylan added, her gaze sharpening, “there’s one thing I do know, without a shred of doubt. Even if that man were the best in all the world…”

She paused, her long lashes casting shadows across her cheeks as her eyes took on a grave seriousness.

“…he is not for you.”

“Okay”

“He’s not the partner who will bring you happiness, Emily.”

Emily smiled gently and nodded. “Yeah, I get it. I promise.”

Only then did Dylan seem somewhat relieved and slumped back onto the bed.

Dylan Langton’s intense resistance to the idea of a proposal from the Marquis was not, in truth, born from some undefined instinct or social anxiety. It was because she knew the plot. But to Emily, who remained blissfully ignorant of such circumstances, Dylan’s behavior felt rather odd.

Dylan’s skewed interest in Cedric, the fact that she hid Emily in her room, got dressed up, and went to greet him herself, and the way she dismissed herself and insisted he wasn’t ‘her’ match. To Emily, the signs all led in a singular, thrilling direction…

‘Dylan must have feelings for His Lordship the Marquis.’

The thought caused a warm flush of excitement in Emily’s cheeks.

Following Cedric’s arrival, a modest formal dinner was naturally held at the Langton estate to welcome the guest.

“We apologize for the humble fare, considering the esteemed guest we have.”

“On the contrary,” Cedric replied with effortless charm, “the meal is excellent.”

He meant it sincerely. The dishes on the table were simple enough not to be called a banquet, but the taste was great. The centerpiece was a gently simmered rabbit stew, its aroma rich and inviting. Cedric carved a piece of the tender thigh, bringing it thoughtfully to his mouth.

But it wasn’t the cuisine that curbed his appetite.

It was… something else.

—or rather, someone.

Dylan Langton and her penetrating gaze.

She pinned a persistent gaze on Cedric without even trying to hide it. It wasn’t the first time he had seen a young lady behave so rudely at an invited meal, but there was something more persistent in her eyes, different from the excitement and admiration of other girls.

At that moment, his feelings toward the impending proposal tipped heavily in one direction.

Which direction, you ask?

That of quietly excusing himself, and retreating home with all grace intact.

He could tell his grandfather that Langton’s daughter had not yet reached adulthood, so the timing seemed too early. He could then say that he would visit again in the year she turned twenty. That wouldn’t be a lie. Emily Langton resembled her grandmother greatly and was very beautiful, but her cheeks still held a youthful softness. Of course, that youthful softness was also present in the other Miss Langton, whom he wasn’t considering as a potential fiancée in the slightest.

Dylan still didn’t seem to have any intention of taking her eyes off Cedric. Cedric naturally ignored her and turned his gaze towards Emily. Since he had said he was interested in the daughters, it was polite to address both of them. He turned toward the younger girl, whose cheeks were tinged with a telltale pink.

“Do you like it?” came an eager voice, interrupting him mid-sentence.

Cedric’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a trace of irritation flickering across their surface… but it was so fleeting it barely touched his expression. He turned toward the source of the interruption.

It was Dylan Langton again. She was smiling, though only with her lips.

‘I wasn’t speaking to you,’ Cedric thought.

However, the words remained unsaid. Cedric suppressed them with ease, aided by two lifelong gifts that had been trained since childhood… an innately unreadable expression and precise control over his facial muscles.

Dylan opened her mouth and spoke, unconcerned by his displeasure.

“I’m asking if you like it. The rabbit stew, I mean.”

“Yes, I do.”

“That’s a relief.”

There it was again… that tone.

That strange, overly gentle tone irritated him. Still, Cedric kept his composure and answered smoothly.

“I heard you caught it yourself; you must have gone through a lot of trouble.”

“The trap did all the work, not me. Traps these days are so sturdy, you see. Once a young, innocent, and weak prey gets caught in one, it’s practically impossible for them to escape.”

As she said that, Dylan’s superficial smile deepened. This time, Cedric’s brow furrowed slightly. No matter how he heard it, it didn’t sound like the trap she was talking about was a real metal trap, and it didn’t sound like the prey was a rabbit either.

Cedric continued to meet Dylan’s gaze to understand her true intentions. Dylan maintained her stiff smile without avoiding Cedric’s eyes. An exchange of glances that, to a proper observer, would only appear to be a battle of nerves. However, someone present misinterpreted this, and she blushed instead.

‘Oh my.’

Emily observed the subtle back-and-forth exchanges between Cedric and Dylan with a peculiar look. Their Intertwined gazes, the simmering intensity, flying sparks… it was almost dizzying.

‘Something’s definitely going to happen. I just know it.’

Her interpretation, which was purely subjective and hopelessly romantic, painted her cheeks with excitement.

‘So, it wasn’t just about attracting attention after all.’ Cedric thought to himself as he denied his initial conclusion that Dylan’s gaze stemmed from goodwill.

She wasn’t simply looking at him… she was glaring. The difference was subtle in action, but stark in meaning.

Hostility and wariness. Both were negative emotions.

He was no stranger to being disliked for no reason, but it was a first for the animosity to come from a young lady.

Still, hostility was hostility, no matter who displayed it. And Cedric was not the sort to graciously tolerate someone else’s unfounded contempt. He decided to adjust his approach towards Dylan.

He smiled… not that broken, doll-like grimace she wore, but a polished, measured smile. Perfect, at least on the surface.

“It seems we’ve met once before.”

“Pardon?”

“When you gave me directions. Do you recall?”

“Even if that were true, it wouldn’t be wrong to say so.”

Dylan, feeling a twinge of guilt, subtly averted her gaze. If she was going to fold so easily, why did she bare her claws like a wildcat in the first place?

“Unfortunately, the directions you gave me were incorrect.”

“Is that so?”

“They were. The estate lay in the opposite direction from where you pointed.”

‘The very direction you turned away from.’ Cedric conveyed those words gently with his eyes.

Dylan blinked for a moment. Then, the brown pupils in her narrow eyes met Cedric’s blue eyes once more… this time, sparking with renewed defiance.

“My apologies. I have a terrible sense of direction.”

“Dylan, you— Ow!”

From the side, Dylan’s twin brother, Hailey Langton, clutched his stomach as if he had been sharply stabbed, even though Dylan’s upper body hadn’t moved an inch. It was an impressive skill… to strike and retreat without so much as a motion.

“My sense of direction is reeeeally bad,” she emphasized, stretching the word with exaggerated sweetness.

“Is that so?”

Hardly.

It was a reply that anyone could hear with that implication.

The air above the table froze slightly. The only one oblivious to the tension was Emily, who silently exclaimed clearly thrilled by their seemingly fated meeting. ‘Oh my, oh my, they already had a chance encounter earlier!’

“So please, don’t misunderstand. Don’t hold it against me.” Dylan humbly apologized.

‘What? Are you going to argue? Are you going to be petty and argue when I’m apologizing?’

It was that same look she had given him on the road. The wary gaze of a skittish herbivore. It was impossible to tell if she was just timid or fearless.

Cedric lightly suppressed a burst of incredulous laughter as he said, “I won’t hold it against you.”

“That’s a relief.”

Dylan smiled again, only with her lips, and then lowered her head deeply. She then began to enthusiastically cut the meat on her plate as if she were going to bury her nose in it. Her cheeks puffed out as she munched away with her small mouth full of meat.

Yet even as she kept chewing, she occasionally shot Cedric a sidelong glance with her stolid eyes.
Well then. He couldn’t help but meet her expectations.

“I was hoping to ask for a tour of the surroundings after the meal, but if you’re not familiar with the local geography, that would be problematic.”

At Cedric’s words, Dylan’s head snapped up. Her eyes anxiously darted between Emily and him, while her chewing grew lightning-fast.

“Miss Emily can give the tour—”

Dylan’s eyes widened. Her chewing became absurdly rapid, her plump cheeks moving like a rodent devouring its food.

“No. I will.”

Finally, she swallowed everything in her mouth and raised her hand with urgency.

“I would be delighted to give you a tour, Your Lordship. Please.”

“Just now, you said you had a terrible sense of direction—”

“Even so, I know the grounds of the manor where I grew up very well, and our Emily is rather frail.”

Emily tilted her head, looking bewildered.

“Sister, I—”

She trailed off, suddenly going still. Then her eyes widened as though a light had switched on behind them.

“That’s right! I am frail! I’m very frail, Your Lordship. In fact, I have a naturally weak constitution and get dizzy if I walk more than thirty steps.”

Her green eyes sparkled… They were bright, vivid, and alight with mischievous enthusiasm. Those were the very eyes her grandfather had praised.

“That’s quite serious. I know a pharmacist who can prescribe good medicine for anemia. I’ll introduce him to you later.”

“Thank you. So, could you perhaps take a walk with Dylan instead? Just the two of you. What do you think?” Emily said brightly and gestured towards Dylan.

Dylan waved the hand she had raised with a smile devoid of any amusement and said, “Unfortunately, that would be for the best.”

“I see.”

At Cedric’s reply, the corners of Dylan’s mouth drooped noticeably. She was a woman whose emotions were very evident on her face. Her face betrayed her every emotion as if it were a book laid bare.

She resumed eating, though it was clear her thoughts were elsewhere. Her gaze flitted between Emily and Cedric, then turned inward, her brow furrowed in concentration. Cedric feigned indifference, returning his attention to his meal.

But he couldn’t help but wonder… If she could wear her displeasure so plainly in front of others, what kind of “remarkable spirit” would she reveal when they were alone?

The walk took place in and around the manor’s garden. It wasn’t a large estate or a lavishly decorated garden, but it had its simple charm. Dylan and Cedric walked slowly along the path, about two feet apart, their pace unhurried.

“It’s a beautiful garden.”

Cedric began the conversation with commonplace pleasantry.

“Yes.”

Dylan replied without even looking at Cedric. He studied her profile. ‘Is she thinking about something else? Or is she simply not listening?’

“It must be pleasant living in such a rural area.”

“Yes.”

“Are you listening to me, Miss Dylan?”

“Yes.”

“Do you perhaps dislike me?”

“Yes.”

Ah. To think she would answer so readily. It was a novel form of rudeness. It had been a while since he had been told to his face that someone disliked him.

“Ah.”

With that single syllable, Dylan finally seemed to realize the flow of the conversation. She looked up abruptly, her wide eyes brimming with mortification.

“That was a mistake. I was thinking about something else.”

‘Of course, you were.’ Cedric nodded without a change in expression.

“I understand.”

“No, really, it was a mistake. It wasn’t my true feelings.”

Dylan shook her head vehemently and even waved both hands in denial.

“I don’t dislike Your Lordship in the slightest. How could I dare? I sincerely wish for Your Lordship’s glory and happiness. That much is true.”

Her tone was solemn now, her eyes shining with conviction, almost like someone fulfilling a noble duty.

Cedric blinked. She was denying it so elaborately, it was almost theatrical.

“I simply wish that the person who shares that happiness with you isn’t Emily.”

And there it was!

Whether she was quick-witted or had eavesdropped on his conversation with the Lord, she seemed to know Cedric’s purpose in visiting from the beginning.

A proposal. So that was the reason for her animosity.

In a way, it kind of made sense. If a man one disliked came proposing to one’s younger sister, it would be upsetting.

What Cedric could not understand was why she disliked him so intensely.

Cedric Hayworth held such an arrogant and presumptuous thought without the slightest awareness that he was being arrogant or presumptuous.

“Why?”

“Emily is very young.”

“Seventeen is not particularly early for marriage, though.”

In fact, by their society’s standards, it was well within the expected range. If anything, she, at twenty-three, was nearly late. A woman of twenty-three with no engagement was not unheard of, but certainly a curiosity. A twenty-three-year-old without even an engagement ring? That was rare to the point of eliciting pity from those around them.

“She is fragile, both in body and mind.”

“The duke’s estate is not some kind of jungle. We don’t keep ferocious beasts that would devour her in one bite.”

Dylan silently stared at Cedric as he replied.

Her expression practically screamed: That would be YOU, wouldn’t it?

Cedric’s brow furrowed deeply. Seeing his expression, Dylan flinched and swallowed hard.

“I mean, she would be inadequate as a partner for a man as skilled as Your Lordship.”

“Skilled, you say.”

“Even a naive country bumpkin from the backwoods reads and sees things, you know.”

Only then did Cedric realize the source of Dylan’s inexplicable hostility. He let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“Do you believe all the scandals in the newspapers?”

“Then are you saying all those articles are complete lies?”

“Not all of them, but…”

His voice trailed off. Not all of them were lies. Most were fabrications, but some were true. The important truth was that over ninety-nine percent of those articles were absolute nonsense.

With the development of printing and publishing, the number of newspapers had increased exponentially over the past few decades. And they all seemed to share one unshakable obsession: Cedric Hayworth’s romantic life.

If he so much as exchanged pleasantries with a woman… or their fingertips so much as grazed in passing… or if they happened to breathe the same air within the same room, an article would appear the next day declaring a scandalous liaison between them as an undeniable fact.

[Marquis of Northerland in secret rendezvous with a mysterious young lady?]

If Cedric filed a complaint, the papers would simply point to the question mark and exclamation point, arguing that the punctuation marked it as speculation, not a definitive statement… and thus, not a lie.

If he sent an official letter of protest, they would retaliate with another article accusing the Sutherwick ducal house of attempting to suppress the freedom of the press.

“Why do they latch onto my stories like this and churn out articles? Why are they so fixated on me?” he had once asked his close friend and business partner, Ethan, in resignation.

Ethan had shrugged and said, “Because you’re you.”

Just what “being him” entailed was anyone’s guess.

“So then, you’re admitting that some of the articles are true,” Dylan pressed.

“That doesn’t mean all the articles are entirely true.”

“But you indeed have a lover right now, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“How can you lie so nonchalantly?”

“It’s not a lie.”

At Cedric’s answer, the end of Dylan’s eyebrow flicked upwards. That was usually how her face looked when she was annoyed. He’d begun to recognize her expressions far too well. And frankly, who was she to be annoyed?

“Katarina Rotham. Does that name perhaps ring a bell?”

Dylan brought up a rare truth amidst the numerous fabricated articles. Cedric lightly massaged his brow, suppressing the rising irritation.

“My relationship with her has already ended amicably.”

“That’s impossible. I saw an article about it just two days ago.”

“That must have been on the way to our parting. My relationship with her is completely over.”

“I don’t believe that.” Dylan crossed her arms, resolve etched into her posture.

Cedric’s patience began to fray. “What exactly do you take me for?”

At Cedric’s suppressed voice, Dylan flinched.

“I’m telling you the truth. And you’re calling me a liar based on nothing but gossip and headlines. Can’t you spare a moment’s thought for how it feels to be slandered by a young lady I’ve never wronged?”

He hadn’t meant to sound threatening. Hell, he hadn’t even raised his voice. But the heat behind the words must have seeped through. He hadn’t realized just how frustrated he’d become. The last thing he needed now was to frighten a girl who knew little of the world. If she burst into tears, things would only get messier.

“I’m sorry. I was very rude.”

Dylan offered an apology unexpectedly readily. There was no sign of hurt or tears. She simply looked up at Cedric with the sincerest expression she had shown so far.

“I apologize. Your Lordship has always been… a figure in a book to me.”

“A book?” Cedric repeated, puzzled.

“The newspaper. My words slipped. Your Lordship has always been a figure I’ve only seen in newspapers… so it felt somewhat unreal, I suppose. Or perhaps I misinterpreted what I read in a twisted way.”

She shook her head slightly, then grasped the hem of her dress and placed a hand gently over her chest in a formal gesture.

“Although it’s no excuse, I sincerely apologize. I admit I judged you with unwarranted prejudice, despite never having met or known you personally. It was my fault.”

The way she lowered her head and bent her knees was surprisingly graceful.

It was rather unexpected, considering how she had been scurrying around like a clueless whirlwind until now. He hadn’t thought her the type to apologize. But here she was — a woman who could admit her faults.

It was not bad at all.

Cedric stared at the back of her round head and curled one corner of his lips.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry. This won’t happen again.”

Dylan offered a sheepish smile. It wasn’t a bright smile, but it was the most natural expression she’d shown so far. It made him wonder what kind of face she would make if she truly smiled brightly.

“Even so,” she said, “please understand that I absolutely cannot approve of a marriage between you and Emily.”

And here we go again.

The conversation had come around full circle.

The smile that had briefly lingered on Cedric’s face vanished. She admitted it was a misunderstanding, so why was she so vehemently opposed? Why? No, in the first place, Cedric hadn’t said a single word about proposing to Emily. That was a flawed premise from the start.

He had only said that he planned to propose to one of Langton’s daughters, and he hadn’t shown any excessive interest in Emily. In that case, wasn’t it possible that the object of his proposal could be Dylan, not Emily?

That thought lodged itself in Cedric’s mind like a tiny thorn.

Why indeed?

Cedric looked down at Dylan, who met his gaze with unwavering eyes. There wasn’t the faintest trace of romantic expectation in them. Most young women, when faced with a potential suitor, would at least wonder, Could it be me? — especially if the other candidate was their much younger sister.

But Dylan had no such reaction.

“Please don’t propose to Emily.”

Even now, there was not a trace of anticipation on the woman’s face that she might be the one he’d meant to propose to.

“Neither Father nor Emily will be able to refuse. So please, Your Excellency, I ask that you withdraw your intention.”

Emily. It was always Emily.

It had been Emily from beginning to end. Dylan hadn’t once spoken of herself — only Emily.

‘Emily is young, Emily is pure, Emily is delicate. Therefore, it wouldn’t do.’

And suddenly, Cedric found himself wondering — if he proposed to Dylan instead, what kind of expression would she make?

**********

“Um, Emily went with Dylan to visit the Mortons today.”

Hailey Langton had awkwardly offered the desperate excuse while glancing at Cedric’s stiff—or rather, eerily blank expression. It wasn’t that the Marquis of Northerland had a particularly harsh face… it was more like the strange, quiet pressure he gave off, a natural aura of intimidation.

“I understand.”

Cedric turned around without another word.

Hailey secretly let out a sigh of relief. Over the past few days, Dylan had gone to great lengths to prevent Emily and Cedric from encountering each other. This was because her fervent persuasion hadn’t been very effective on Cedric.

“Could you please not propose to Emily and just leave right away?”

“That would be… difficult,” Cedric replied.

The “difficult” part of his answer was directed more towards leaving right away than it was towards not proposing, but Dylan didn’t seem to hear it that way.

“I will do my utmost to prevent your proposal, Your Excellency.”

She said it with the air of a warrior about to embark on a sacred crusade. Conversely, Cedric felt like a predatory lord invading a small nation.

However, he didn’t reply with, “I wasn’t planning on proposing to Miss Emily right away anyway.”

Was it his stubborn pride? Perhaps he could call it that. But if he simply gave in with a “very well,” it would feel like an admission—an acknowledgment of the scandalous rumors that he was some libertine pursuing his carnal whims.

Yet there was no justifiable reason to give up either. Emily herself hadn’t expressed any reluctance, mainly because her sister hadn’t given her a chance to speak with him. So, if he backed off now with a “Ah, you don’t want me to?” it would seem rather strange.

Most importantly, were he to leave now, it would be difficult to convince his grandfather.

A few days ago, Cedric had sent a telegram to Graham stating:

[Dearest Grandfather. Hailey Langton is male. Marriage is impossible. The Langton family has three children.]

It was a short and concise message.

[Understood.]

The reply was equally brief.

But there was no order to return. He had already declared his intention to propose to one of the Viscount’s daughters. Leaving immediately after arriving would seem rude — like saying, if there’s no bride here for me, I’ve got no business staying.

So, one way or another, he had to stay for about a week and at least pretend to have cordial interactions with both daughters. He needed to conclude his visit in a reasonably smooth manner to save face for both sides.

But there was no need to inform Dylan Langton of this. He could tell her there was no need to rush over every time he and Emily were in the same vicinity, nor the pointless effort of avoiding him as if he carried the plague.

But Cedric said nothing.

He simply felt like it.