“I didn’t ask.”

 

Noah let out a deflated huff at her lukewarm tone, fingers idly twirling the end of her braided hair as he spoke.

 

“Hmm. Then how about I come with you this time? Just so I can see what the rumored ‘my lover’ is actually like?”

 

“Aren’t you busy?”

 

“I told you. I crammed all my work just so I could play with you.”

 

“…”

 

“I rushed to finish everything today and came straight here… and this is the welcome I get? I’m honestly a little hurt.”

 

He sounded genuinely wounded—like a gentleman who’d stopped on his way home to buy armfuls of gifts for a child, only to be met with indifference. 

 

Cordelia rolled her eyes, fingers fidgeting restlessly. Her heart was thudding too loudly.

 

She had no proper comeback, so she changed the subject.

 

“You’re really coming with me?”

 

“If you want me to. But going with me will only fuel more gossip. Especially since you and I—through no fault of our own—have already been tangled up in quite a lot of rumors, Miss Ander.”

 

“…”

 

“I don’t care what they say about me. I only said it because I didn’t want it to make things harder for you when you’re trying to mingle with people.”

 

He was right. For him, attending a party already notorious for scandal would only add fresh fuel to the fire. And with whispers about Cordelia herself starting to spread quietly…

 

She shook her head.

 

“No. I’ll go alone.”

 

“Alright then.”

 

At his curt reply, her fingers curled inward. Then, before she could even process it—

 

“I’ll come pick you up after the tea party ends.”

 

“…Sorry?”

 

“You’re not planning to drink tea all day, are you? I already told you—I want to spend time with you.”

 

Her heart slammed violently against her ribs. 

 

Cordelia suddenly panicked that he might actually hear it pounding. No—worse—she was terrified of herself. This was dangerous. She shouldn’t feel this way.

 

“Miss Cordelia.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Everything’s fine, but… could you please stop tugging your hair? It feels like you’re about to rip the back of your head off.”

 

“Ah.”

 

She hurriedly unclenched her fist, and when platinum strands spilled messily across the navy jacket, she fell into a long, heavy silence. 

 

Cordelia pretended to casually brush off her shoulder—erasing the evidence—then secretly exhaled in relief at the sight of his still thick, abundant hair. 

 

Noah’s whole family seemed blessed with impossibly lush hair. He’d be fine.

 

“What was that? Did you just laugh to yourself?”

 

“No. I didn’t laugh.”

 

“…It’s really bothering me.”

 

He grumbled, but Noah didn’t press the matter further. 

 

Saying it was cold and they should head back, he turned with her still cradled in his arms and began walking toward the mansion. 

 

Only then did Cordelia realize—amid the earlier frantic rush—that she had nearly crashed straight into a massive cedar tree, and it was Noah who had stopped her just in time.

 

I’m always the one receiving from you. Delicious things, protection, tenderness—everything.

 

She wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck and pressed her forehead against his shoulder, rubbing gently.

 

She wished the walk to their room would never end.

 

🫧

 

“Whew…”

 

Cordelia gazed at her reflection in the mirror and drew a long, steadying breath. 

 

Jane had insisted that since this was her very first proper social gathering, she had to make an overwhelming impression—and she had clearly poured her heart into it. 

 

The result… was breathtaking.

 

The soft pink-white vintage Empire silk dress looked as though it had been distilled straight from rose-tinted pearls. 

 

The delicate, almost understated tailoring seemed made solely for Cordelia’s body.

 

Small puffs graced the shoulders; from the gently rounded square neckline down to the waist, fine ruching hugged her chest in an innocent yet devastating way—girlish at first glance. 

 

But the deep hollow of her collarbones, the graceful line of her throat, and the narrow taper of her waist were all emphasized by exquisite lace accents that whispered pure femininity.

 

Below, the skirt cascaded in gentle waves, embroidered with tiny vines and white Tudor roses—each bloom painstakingly stitched by hand with the family’s silver thread.

 

Her hair had been styled to match: half-up, half-down, finished with fresh-picked red and white roses.

 

 No other jewelry adorned her except pearl drop earrings and a choker blooming with a full, deep-red rose corsage.

 

She looked like a living secret—delicate, untouchable, and impossibly tempting. While smoothing down the stray wisps of hair, Jane murmured in frank admiration.

 

“You’re so beautiful, miss! As expected, the master’s eye is impeccable. This dress, and the instruction to keep adornments and embellishments to the absolute minimum—that was all Mr. Noah.”

 

“Really?”

 

Jane beamed and nodded vigorously. 

 

Indeed, Noah’s sense of aesthetics was razor-sharp, piercing, and exquisitely subtle. With just the slightest difference—one single drop of intense perfume—it transformed everything about Cordelia into something entirely different, something devastating.

 

Most likely, his directions had also deliberately arranged for her very first social appearance to strike the perfect balance: neither too faint nor too bold, just enough to linger in memory. 

 

Amid the ostentatious blooms of Katisha’s flowers, Cordelia would stand out like a wildflower—simple, fresh, achingly pure, and impossibly lovely. 

 

Quietly radiant. Never overwhelming.

 

With the lace parasol that matched the dress tucked under one arm and a bouquet of white roses for the hostess, Sasha Ander, cradled against her chest, every preparation was finally complete.

 

She looked exactly like a debutante.

 

Watching Cordelia’s cheeks bloom pink like a shy young girl, Jane thought to herself. 

 

All that was missing was the long bridal train sweeping behind her—otherwise, today’s Cordelia truly resembled an innocent girl stepping into the world for the very first time.

 

And apparently Jane wasn’t the only one who thought so.

 

“Looks like all that’s left is the official debut.”

 

“Lord Noah.”

 

Unlike Cordelia, who was fully dressed for the occasion, Noah stood leaning against the wall in soft indoor clothes, a loose cardigan draped over his shoulders. His gaze rested on her—slow, deliberate, drinking her in.

 

Then he spoke, “Worth looking at.”

 

Cordelia secretly wilted beneath his impassive expression, searching for any hidden meaning. 

 

Last time he had called her pretty outright.

 

Whether he knew what was twisting inside her or not, Noah turned to Jane and complimented her makeup in a low, appreciative tone. 

 

Jane smiled brightly and dipped into a small bow. 

 

Well then…

 

“My lady,” 

 

He said, voice quieter now, almost velvet, “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you?”

 

He hadn’t even swept his hair back, hadn’t bothered with a proper suit; he looked more like an international student strolling across a university campus or a young aristocrat idling away time at some leisurely seaside resort. 

 

The sharp, tapered red eyes, the lazily upturned corner of his mouth, the looser-than-usual expression—all of it made him appear far younger than his actual age.

 

I’m the one who got all dressed up, so why does he look like he’s the one glowing?

 

Cordelia stole furtive glances at him, grumbling inwardly. 

 

Noah took her small hand and helped her into the carriage, then slipped his own hands into his pockets. He stared impassively at the closed glass window—until a small, pale face peeked out from inside, rustling softly against the frame. 

 

Instantly, reflexively, a smile curved his lips.

 

She looked exactly like a soft pink rabbit poking its head out of a burrow. 

 

Cheeks flushed high, Cordelia swallowed hard and whispered,

 

“I’m actually really nervous. What if I mess up once we’re there? This is my first time doing anything like this.”

 

“Then it’ll just be a proper initiation.”

 

Not the comforting reply she’d hoped for—her gentle face shot him a tiny glare. He tilted his head with lazy arrogance.

 

“If you mess up, just pin it on my name. I’ll throw that in as a complimentary service. You’re one of our bank’s valued customers, after all.”

 

“I’m a customer?”

 

He must have found his own joke terribly amusing; the faint pout that had been gathering on her face melted into a childlike, delighted grin. Her expression was so transparent—like glass. 

 

Everything showed right through. Without thinking, she reached out and gently rubbed the drooping corner of his eye. He squinted with one eye but didn’t pull away. 

 

Too soft for his own good.

 

He finally withdrew her hand and took a single step back.

 

“You look devastatingly beautiful today. Go ahead and step on everyone.”

 

At the mischievous flash of his smile, she finally broke into a full, radiant laugh. 

 

For a split second, Noah’s brows furrowed—as though flecks of glittering glass had suddenly lodged in the corners of his eyes—then smoothed again.

 

A moment later, he gave a slow, fox-like wave, all languid charm.

 

“Have a good time. See you soon.”

 

“Yes—thank you!”

 

Was being seen off ever this breathtaking? 

 

Since meeting Noah, Cordelia had come to know so many things she had never even suspected existed—some good, some bad.

 

But the good ones lingered far more powerfully.

 

So even if someday it all came to an end, Cordelia genuinely believed she would look back with deep, quiet satisfaction.

 

Meanwhile, Noah remained rooted to the spot, watching the carriage grow smaller in the distance. The faint, crooked smile on his lips slowly twisted into something tighter.

 

She really is… excessively beautiful.

 

Almost disorientingly so.

 

A weak, self-deprecating chuckle escaped him; he dragged a hand slowly down his jaw. 

 

Perhaps because his own features had never been overtly flashy, the delicate, refined lines of her face—now touched with the softest blush of color and makeup—made her bloom like a rose drenched in fox rain, exhaling an irresistible, heady fragrance.

 

If he left her like this, all kinds of unsavory things were bound to come crawling.

 

He himself, having been born with more than his share of looks, had endured every bizarre and unwelcome advance imaginable since childhood. 

 

Even with the ironclad protection of the Tudor name, it had been that bad—so what chance did she have? 

 

A penniless stray with a gentle, trusting personality that practically screamed “easy target” to anyone with eyes.

 

Even now, people sidled up to her with that sly, leering interest. 

 

The very first time he saw her, she had been cornered and harassed by some filthy lowlife.

 

“I heard that cousin of hers—the one she used to live with, Morris—was obsessed with the young lady. Whenever he drank, he’d spew the most vulgar, filthy things about her. That’s why her reputation suffered so badly. After she ran away, word is he got beaten half to death somewhere. Now he goes around ranting that if he ever catches that ‘ungrateful crazy bitch,’ he’ll kill her.”