You Think I Won't Talk?-Chapter 46

We continued to sit in silence and feeling conflicted on how to act at his dejected vibe, my thoughts were about to start wandering like they usually do when the Butler came in with the awaited tea. ONLY the tea.

’... Where is the pastry..?’

I really wanted some sugar, like, for real. And having these many difficulties obtaining the d*mn sweet had started to cloud my reasoning for some time now.

Jumping to conclusions, I turned to the Duke, who was still seating next to me.

Pulling on his sleeve, I wanted to repeat that same sentence I asked in my head to him.

But, my uncooperative body obviously did not allow it. Since I had not thought of a way to say that with gestures, I looked downwards for a moment to come up with something and ended up regretting my impulsiveness.

’Tsk!... Right... you can’t even talk. So, girl, mind your actions.’

Frustrated with myself, I sighed inwardly as I sarcastically told this to my impulsive self, and then, lifted my head to try something else.

Finding the Duke with his eyes fixed on my hand holding his sleeve, I flinched slightly.

’Does it bother him?’

I released his clothes and as the Butler placed on the centre table the fancy tea set in a symmetrical way, I stared at it intensely, hoping that the thoughtful Duke would get the hint.

’I have faith in you, Sir!!! I know you can do it!!’

He had done really well until now, so I believe he will figure it out.

However! Taking into account the possibility of him not getting it, I decided that if it turned out like that... I would leave the matter and not insist anymore.

This lack of communication is getting tiresome and I don’t want to lose more energy trying further. It’s just not meant to be.

’.....I-I mean... I can always eat them later...it’s... it’s not a big deal... heh...’

The Butler had already settled the table and was ready to take his leave.

’Ah... There goes my sweet dessert...’

"Then, Your Grace, I will–"

"Wait. Thomas, we bought pastries on the way here, why did you not serve them? Bring some so Marianne can have a bite." — The Duke said, interrupting Mister Thomas.

"...!"

’Yessssss!!! Ouf! That is the Duke for you! You got me scared there~~’

"Oh... My apologies, My Lord. I will return briefly."

Turning back to face me as Mister Thomas went out of the room again, the Duke loosened up the serious expression he had given to the old Butler and gave one full of warmth to us.

"Sweetie, You must have eaten lunch not too long ago. However, you should grab a bite of the pastries while they are fresh. They will be tastier then."

’Oh! Gosh! So you do know!!! Hohohoho~~’

As if I were an old woman talking to a handsome young man, I waved my hand shyly in my head, ecstatic that this man was so good at reading my intentions.

"Nonetheless,"

’Huh?’

"Do not eat much. You weren’t feeling well the other day, so we should be careful not to upset your stomach with too much food, alright Dear?"

Lightly stroking my right cheek, the Duke made sure to tell me his concerns about my health. The valid argument he gave was irrefutable since he didn’t know the real cause of my discomfort that day.

But, then again... my stubborn self did not take it that well...

’... Tsk... party pooper... it’s just a pastry...’

I knew I was acting childish, but... somehow I felt like it was okay to do so. Like... I was in the mood.

’Hmm...... is... that time of the month coming?’

This idea came to mind only because I am not usually this difficult to please, more so if there is a valid reason... unless... the biological torture is due to come.

’Marianne is eighteen... but... Naaah~ it can’t be as bad as it was in my past life~’

Discarding the useless worries of something I can’t even do anything about, I nodded in agreement to the Duke’s conditions. I would still be able to eat some good stuff and he was right about me eating too much, so there was no use in being stubborn.

’... I did eat that extra large breakfast combo at the Palace.’

The Duke had moved his hand away from me and, with a loving smile, he continued to look at me.

For a brief moment, I saw his eyes glint with beautiful light.

The Duke is not old but also not young. Seeing him closely these last few days, I think he is around his mid-forties. But his eyes seemed full of... ordeal.

A man of his age, who’s lived in a medieval world, must have lived the worth of a hundred years, for his gaze to look so... complicatedly experienced...

’... Your Father... I wonder what he’s been through, Marianne... He’s cool.’

"...! That’s right..."

While watching me, as if he had remembered something important, his eyebrows jerked upwards, and then, he smoothly brought his hand to the inside of his vest. I hadn’t noticed, but he had not changed his attire as I did.

’... Did he have no time to change...? Was he working before I came here??’

I felt pity for the overworked Duke. If it was like that, then it must be that work piled up in those few days we were gone, and he was not allowed to take his time with it now, seeing that we arrived just a few hours ago and he was already locked in his office.

"..."

Waiting in forced silence for him to take whatever he had in his pocket, soon what seemed like a post-it notes block was shown to me.

On his big hand, a small portable kind of canvas had a pencil tied to it.

It was like a miniature of what I had just received. As soon as I saw it... I understood its purpose. A chuckled breath was the response in my head, followed by a grateful smile.

"Marianne, now that you have begun to write notes to communicate... I asked for this one to be made for you, inspired by your original design. There must be times you want to say something but.... you are unable to....."

I had my gaze fixed on the post-it little canvas but, when I heard his pause as he said those last words, I lifted my head as fast as I could. Nonetheless, I was not fast enough to be able to see his expression.

"Keep this with you so you can communicate better... this way you won’t have to ask for paper and quill every time."

He continued what he had to say promptly with his always soft expression. His hast felt as if he... continued only to conceal something.

’...Yeah...’ — Lost in thought by his actions, I replied inwardly.

Placing the little post-it notebook in my hands, he patted them twice while holding them preciously.

I stared at it for a moment and, right after, nothing better than this idiotic remark could be brought up in my mind.

’... you could have... given it to me earlier...’

Halfway through the sentence, I was already feeling bad about it. It was obvious he didn’t do it on purpose and such a response was truly not appropriate.

’Sorry, Sir... I’m a tactless human being... I promise that by the time I’m able to talk, I won’t be this rude to you.’

I am conscious of my shortcomings, so I won’t deny that I feel quite ashamed about this part of my personality.

I’ve never been good at reading "the mood", "the atmosphere"... I messed up quite a lot in my past life too...

Let’s say I’m just slow.

It’s better than being tactless and I do empathise with others. So, I am not tactless, but outspoken... I just have no filter, heh.

Like... I don’t get the hint fast enough...

"..."

’Yeah...How shameless... and I was asking him to get the hint before...’

...

’He doesn’t know... So let’s say it doesn’t count.’

The Duke doesn’t have to know. What matters is that I appreciate his affection towards Marianne and I also promised to care. Hence, I will make my utmost best to reciprocate his warmth.

Anne’s letter was addressed only to him.

The only person Marianne loves is her Father. I can feel the bliss whenever I meet with him being born within me.

Her remaining piece of soul rejoices like a shy child, and a dim warmth starts to flow through our usually cold body. If this is not her, telling me she’s happy to be with him... then I must be really stupid to assume that’s what it is.

I stopped feeling conflicted as I resolved my mind. So it was now time to show my gratitude for his considerate gift.

My hands crawled out of the ones that had wrapped them, slowly and gently, so that he wouldn’t take it as me rejecting his care.

Taking the pencil in my hand, I began writing on the little present he gave me.

[Thank you very much, Father.

You are always so thoughtful.]

As I showed the message, the Duke smiled.

"You don’t need to thank me, my sun–"

Stopping his words abruptly, he kept going after clearing up his throat.

"...Ahem... Don’t worry, Dear."

His pause made me a bit curious.

Nevertheless, I did not mind much about it and proceeded to write something that conveyed Anne’s and my feelings.

He said we didn’t need to worry about it, but how could we? The gift was great and he always welcomes us with his affective attitude. So we must convey our gratitude to him. He ought to know we appreciate his care.

Even though it was quite a simple message, I poured our honesty into it.

[Father, I must say Thanks.

Your gift and spending time with you make me happy.]

As I stared at the newly written words on the paper, a promise was made between me and Marianne from how strongly we felt about them.

’...Let’s say these same words ourselves with a big smile next time... Should we, Marianne?’

Even though there was no voice in my head agreeing to the promise... the slight heat in my cheeks was enough of an answer.