Ch.10: Did You Think It Was A Request?

"Where's Mr. Remmer?" the duke asked Leyla, whose head was lowered deferentially. Wiping the crumbs from her lips, she replied, "He's on an errand downtown. Is something the matter?"

Duke Herhardt gave a slight nod, then turned his gaze from Leyla back to Kyle, to whom he flashed a courteous smile. Seeing the duke's friendly expression, Kyle felt relieved,

The duke asked Kyle to pass on his thanks to Kyle's father for taking such good care of Dowager Herhardt. He then turned to Leyla again. Allowing the smile to fade from his lips, he asked, "Well, Lady Leyla, if Mr. Remmer is out, would you be able to harvest some roses for me?"

"Roses? Roses from the garden?"

"Yes, just pick an assortment of them and bring them to my cabin by the river." With another slight nod, he tugged on his horse's reins and left, not giving Leyla any time to respond.

Leyla sighed as she looked down at her blouse and skirt, which were covered with biscuit crumbs. She frantically brushed them off, but was unable to brush away the embarrassment she was feeling.

"Uh, Leyla, I think you got all the crumbs. You can stop," Kyle said, snickering.

"Why did he have to appear at a time like this?"

"What's the big deal? Don't you think the duke eats snacks like everybody else?"

"Well sure, but..." Leyla muttered, unwittingly rubbing her lips again.

"Why do you care when you're always stuffing your face in front of me?”

"It's different with you. You're my friend."

"And Duke Herhardt is a stranger. You shouldn't worry more about how you appear in front of a stranger than a friend."

"Maybe you're right... I don't know, though. I just feel uncomfortable around him," she said, frowning.

"Why? Did something happen between you two?"

"No, it's not that... He just always makes me feel uncomfortable and tense. I can't explain it. He just does. I don't like it."

"What about me? You feel comfortable around me, right?" Kyle asked, his voice full of subtle anticipation.

Leyla laughed dismissively as she put on her hat. "Of course, Mr. Ellman."

Kyle's smile widened at this reply. "Good, I thought so. Hey, you want some help picking those roses?"

"No, I can handle it myself. You should head home now."

"No, I can wait here."

"Come on, Kyle. If your father finds out you were hanging out here again he'll be furious! He might even get mad at me. Go home and study."

Kyle frowned. He wanted to argue, but he knew she was right. He took a careful look in the direction the duke had ridden off in. Why do I feel so anxious? Have I been oversensitive lately? Not wanting to scare Leyla by saying something needless, he kept his mouth shut. But it's not just any guy, it's Duke Herhardt, the flawless nobleman whose engagement is about to be announced. Soon, his anxiety got the better of him, and he found himself shouting, "Leyla!”

Leyla, who was walking towards the rose garden with basket and clippers in hand, turned and smiled, shouting, "See you tomorrow, Kyle!"

Don't go, he wanted to say. Swallowing those words, he simply waved. It's okay. It's Duke Herhardt. Nothing's going to happen. Repeating this thought to himself over and over, he watched Leyla continue to walk away towards the rose garden.

"Go back."

Just as Leyla was about to leave the cabin, she heard Matthias's voice. After a few seconds, she realized that his words had been directed at her. Holding her breath, she turned to face him again.

Matthias was sitting across from his butler at a table by the window. He was reviewing documents that were piled on the table, as he had been doing for some time. Without looking up, he said, "The ones you brought are too gaudy. Go get some with more muted colors." He then looked up at Leyla with an extremely gentle smile on his face.

Leyla clenched her fists to keep her irritation from boiling over and turning into rage. It seemed that there was a problem with the roses she had selected. The roses of which he had simply asked her to bring "an assortment," without further specification.

While she stared at the roses she had brought, Matthias turned his attention back to his work. His butler Hessen continued his report, while Matthias listened closely, interjecting with the occasional brief instruction. They were behaving as though their errand girl were no longer there.

Feeling frustrated, she repeated the phrase for Uncle Bill in her mind as she quietly left the cabin. He makes people jump through hoops for him at two in the afternoon in the middle of summer, and people call him a perfect gentleman? she grumbled as she trudged back to the garden.

For the most part, Leyla had little interest in the lives of those who lived in the mansion, but she was aware that the cabin by the river was Duke Herhardt's private getaway spot. He rarely had guests there, and only a limited number of servants would wait on him.

She figured that he had wanted the flowers because of Claudine. Since they would soon be getting engaged, she had thought that perhaps Claudine had started joining him at the cabin occasionally. That was why she had chosen the most colorful roses she could find. She knew that Claudine liked flashy colors. But it had turned out that this was a mistake.

She made it through the woods, and stepped boldly out into the bright, shadowless garden, where she carefully cut a new selection of roses. To meet the duke's fastidious demand, she chose only soft, muted colors this time. They happened to color she preferred as well, for the most part.

With her basket full of roses in hand, she started walking again in the oppressive heat of the sunny summer afternoon.

If he was going to be so picky, why didn't he tell me what colors he wanted in the first place? she thought, venting her anger by kicking stones from the path as she walked. I hate the duke. As her irritation continued to build, she started kicking innocent leaves as well.

By the time she arrived back at the cabin, she was starting to feel dizzy from the heat.

The cabin, which had originally been an old boathouse by the dock, had been renovated into a beautiful building that looked like it was half-floating on the river. The first floor housed the boat storage area from the original boathouse, along with a small kitchen where simple refreshments could be prepared. The second floor was the duke's private space and contained a drawing-room, a bedroom, and a dining room.

Holding the basket full of roses, Leyla climbed the outdoor staircase up to the second floor. The butler and a maid were just then leaving. She greeted them and then hurried into the drawing-room. Matthias was still in the same spot, sitting with his eyes closed and his head leaning backward.

Should I wait for him to wake up? she wondered. Luckily, he soon opened his eyes. His slightly messy hair was covering his forehead.

"I brought the new roses, Your Grace," she said, holding up the basket. Matthias just stared at her, saying nothing. With his riding jacket removed and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, he looked much more vulnerable and languorous than before.

"Should I... go get different ones again?" she cautiously asked in a quivering voice. If he makes me go back to the garden for the third time, I'm going to throw the roses at him.

"If I said yes, would you go?" he asked in a slightly drowsy voice.

"If I made another mistake, then of course I'll have to go. But in that case, please tell me exactly what colors you would like," she replied. She had intended to respond with a simple Yes, Your Grace, but the response that came out of her mouth was much longer. She froze, afraid that her response had been impolite.

Matthias stared at her for a moment, then straightened his posture in his seat and said, "Sit down," gesturing at the spot across the table from him.

"No, Your Grace. If you are satisfied with these colors, then I should be..."

"Since you brought the flowers, isn't it your duty to put them in a vase, Lady Leyla?”

"But Your Grace, I am not skilled in flower arrangement."

"Do you expect me to do it, then?" he asked, glancing around the room and then back at her. She could easily understand the meaning of that simple gesture, he was indicating that there was no one else in the cabin but them. That is, he was telling her that she needed to put the flowers in a vase, no matter how unskilled she was al flower arrangement.

She cautiously approached him. She didn't have the courage to sit in the seat across from him, so she sat on a chair by the window that faced the river.

Once she had started trimming the roses so that they could be placed in a vase, he turned back to the pile of documents on the table. The silent room was soon filled with the sound of clippers snipping rose stems, and papers being turned and shifted.

As he signed the final document, he suddenly remembered the bird in his

bedroom back at the mansion. Despite the bird keeper's warning that canaries were hard to tame, this canary had proved very obedient. It would readily sit on Matthias's finger and sing.

He often found himself staring at the tiny bird, amazed at how beautifully it sang. Sometimes it would flap its wings and fly a short distance, then return to his finger and start singing again, as if it were talking to a friend.

While he sorted the documents, Leyla quietly walked to the bathroom to fill a vase with water. She moved smoothly, as if she were weightless.

When she returned, he could tell that she hadn't been lying about her lack of flower arrangement skills. The roses looked like they had been recklessly crammed into the vase.

"Do you like it, Your Grace?" she asked hesitantly.

"It's dreadful," he replied in a dry tone that didn't sound upset or critical.

She blinked, taken aback, and her cheeks started to redden. "I'm sorry, Your Grace. I will go fetch a maid who is skilled in this sort of thing."

"Sit."

"Pardon?"

"Sit down, Leyla," he said with a quieter voice that only heightened the pressure she felt. His finger was pointing directly at the seat across the table from his. She placed the shameful rose vase on a credenza and stiffly sat where he was pointing.

"Eat," he said, now looking at a tray that was covered by a dome-shaped silver cloche.

She awkwardly lifted the cloche off the tray, and discovered a sandwich and a glass of lemonade.

He quietly watched her as she reacted with puzzlement. Knowing that she liked sandwiches, he had intended the snack as payment for her work. Even though the product of her labors had been awful, the fact remained that she had performed a service for him in the gardener's stead.

"Thank you, Your Grace, but I'm all right," she said, placing the cloche back on the tray with a trembling hand. Her face, which had been so brightly smiling when she was with the doctor's son, was now full of troubled perplexity. "If there's nothing else you need, I should be on my..."

"Leyla." He was now practically whispering.

She stared at him, blinking slowly.

He took a sip of the whiskey soda in front of him. Beads of condensation from the crystal glass flowed slowly down his fingers. "Did you think it was a request?" His moistened lips made a smile.

Chapter end