Chapter 9

How long had she been asleep? Isabella couldn’t feel her fingers or toes, but she could hear noises around her.

“...was just awake a moment ago,” someone said in an extremely worried voice.

“Betty! You scared us!”

Then, she heard an agitated voice, along with... the warmth of a hand. She flinched, and her eyes popped open. Darkness gave way to a bright burst of light.

“Oh dear, did I wake you? I’m so sorry,” a strikingly beautiful woman said as she gazed down at Isabella.

Who is this? Where am I? Isabella slowly turned her head and saw Cleor. Realizing that she was in the North, she sat up. Or at least, she tried to.

Isabella was someone who took a long time to wake up. Her body was lazy. It took her a long time to gather her energy into her fingers and toes. She was slower than a snail, always having to wake up at dawn to make it to breakfast on time. She had a very troublesome body.

“I’m sorry for introducing myself while lying in bed. I am Isabella Helsington from House Helsington.” Still, she had to show some respect. She willed herself to move her parched lips.

“My goodness! The introductions can wait, my dear. Your lips look absolutely parched!” Angela exclaimed as she perched on the side of the bed, holding Isabella’s hand. “Your hands are so bony.”

The duchess gently brushed Isabella’s bangs aside as she inspected the bruise on her forehead. Her touch was delicate as she carefully inspected the girl. But soon, her expression grew dark.

Is she surprised because my health is worse than they thought? Suddenly, a maid appeared holding a tray with a glass of water. She was so fast that Isabella didn’t realize she had even left the room. Joanne always refused to move unless she had to. The duke’s maids were different.

“Here, have a sip of water...” the duchess started to say when Cleor suddenly held out the cup in front of her. Angela looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Here, drink this,” he said, looking away as he spoke.

“Oh... I am all right.” She wanted so badly to drink, but she couldn’t get up. And worse than that, Cleor refused to meet her eyes. He must have gotten upset when she brought up the topic of marriage. So she refused.

But Angela began to shout. “Cleor! Don’t just stand there!”

“Huh?” Caught off guard by his mother’s sudden shout, he pointed to himself and tilted his head in confusion.

“Get over here right now and help Isabella sit up!”

Realization flashed across his face. He placed the glass on the end table and reached out toward Isabella. Feeling his large hand support her back, she flinched at his sudden touch, but Cleor didn’t seem to mind. His hands were hot, sending heat through her thin gown. She wasn’t used to such care. He propped her up delicately.

“Are you okay?”

Is he asking me? She gazed at Cleor, and he tilted his head again.

Oh, he is. Isabella nodded in response.

“You don’t have to lie,” he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. His voice was low and dangerous, like the sound of a beast.

***

The way Cleor saw it, Isabella wasn’t okay. How could someone be okay when they were as pale as death and didn’t have the strength to lift themselves out of bed?

“You don’t have to lie,” Cleor said, his voice as unintentionally cold as always.

Isabella looked at him, perhaps noticing the sudden shift. Seeing the doubt in her blue eyes, he hesitated. She had just arrived in the unfamiliar North after living her whole life in the central region, and she’d just woken up surrounded by people she’d never met before. How could she possibly be at ease?

“I’m going to have to ask you all to leave this—”

Before Cleor could finish his sentence, Clara interrupted. “What are you doing, Cleor? You should prop up her back with a pillow! I’m sorry, Isabella. My brother can be a real idiot sometimes. Ah! I’m Clara, by the way.”

Clara’s voice was lovely and sweet, like the legendary bluebird. The girl with black pigtails beamed at Isabella before she glared at her brother.

Get moving already, you clumsy oaf! That was what her black eyes seemed to scream.

Cleor clicked his tongue as he grabbed a nearby cushion, which he used to prop up Isabella’s back, and gently helped her lean back into it. He was kind and seemed completely different from the man who had growled earlier.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Clara.”

Her eyes filled with tears as if she were touched by Isabella’s greeting. She tried to wipe the tears with the back of her hand.

Isabella blinked.

“My goodness, I’m so sorry,” Clara said. “I’m not normally like this, but you’re just so beautiful that I-I...”

Isabella had no idea what she was talking about. All she could think about was the heat of Cleor’s hand on her back. It was warm but slightly uncomfortable.

“Can I come closer to you?” the little girl asked cautiously, waiting for her answer.

Isabella wasn’t used to this.

“You can refuse if it makes you feel uncomfortable,” Angela said.

Isabella ducked her head at the duchess’s kind and thoughtful words. “It’s okay, Lady Clara. You can come closer if you want.”

“Thank you.”

Isabella felt a strange emotion when she saw the girl’s little head come near her waist.

Angela gave a tired smile. “You’re too kind, Isabella.”

She was confused by the sudden compliment. There wasn’t a good reason why Clara couldn’t come near her. That was why she allowed it.

Clara slowly stepped forward. Underneath her cautious manners hid an inexplicable affection. She stared at Isabella as she approached.

Just when she was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the young girl’s intense stare, Clara suddenly blurted out in a small voice, “You’re... so pretty.”

Isabella was startled by the awe in her voice. Silence fell as Isabella struggled to respond to the girl’s heartfelt compliment. Her large eyes blinked a few times.

“Ah... You look like a goddess,” Clara gushed, with her hands clasped over her mouth.

“Tsk.”

Cleor clicked his tongue, and Isabella’s gaze shifted toward him. He looked like he had a lot of complaints. It didn’t seem like he agreed with Clara’s compliments.

Figures. There’s no way a dying woman could look like a goddess. But Isabella wasn’t hurt. She simply looked away. In reality, Cleor was disappointed that his little sister only knew how to compliment people’s looks. How could she describe Isabella’s captivating beauty with just a few—no, a single word? That was why he couldn’t stand people who didn’t read! What was even more infuriating was how Isabella reacted!

I could do better! Angela thought the same as the silence stretched on. It was Grand Duke Noverdic who finally broke the silence.

“Oh my. Clara, you little rascal! I thought you were going to leave the compliments to me!” Victor called from behind, never once taking his eyes off Isabella.

Again, she said nothing.

“That’s your fault for being too slow, Father.”

“Clara, this is a matter of trust.”

“Hmm... Trust? I thought we agreed to decorate Isabella’s carriage together, but who’s the one who went and did it all by himself? Have we ever had trust to begin with?”

“Oh boy.”

Realizing he had lost this battle, Victor snapped his mouth shut. The servants didn’t decorate the carriage that Isabella arrived in. Victor had decorated it himself. Cleor and Clara had caught the Grand Raterbit, and Angela had cleaned the fur.

Feeling like he hadn’t contributed anything, Victor went ahead and furnished the carriage himself—a task the whole family had agreed to do together. He did it secretly, in the middle of the night, while the rest of the family was still sleeping.

“Enough, you two.” It seemed like their battle wouldn’t end anytime soon. Cleor stepped in after seeing the troubled look on Isabella’s face. He was impassive. “You can compliment Isabella too, Father..”

Huh? No, that’s not it. Isabella thought that was a poor plan. But much to her surprise, Victor seemed thrilled with Cleor’s idea.

“May I come closer too?”

Victor was the duke. He was the Lord of the North and the patriarch of House Noverdic. He had no reason to ask Isabella for permission. And Isabella had no good reason to turn down his request either.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Victor approached with a forlorn look on his face, still a step away from the rest. Angela, Clara, and Cleor had already taken up residence by Isabella’s side. He wanted to stand closer to her but was forced to stand at a slight distance. Victor tugged at Clara’s dress, but she ignored him.

“Perhaps we should establish what we should call each other. You can call me Dad.”

“My goodness. You’re giving me goosebumps!” Clara’s lips twisted downward as she shivered.

“I agree with Clara, Father.”

At Cleor’s objections, Victor adjusted his words. “Then how about Father? Either way, I can’t say I like Your Grace.”

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh dear! I don’t want you to apologize. I just thought it would be wonderful to hear you say Father in that beautiful voice of yours.”

Isabella wasn’t used to using words like dad or father. She tried her best not to use those words.

“Isabella. It doesn’t have to be now. Just call me that whenever you feel like it.” Seeing the troubled look on her face, Victor quickly changed the subject.

Angela was glaring at the duke. The past few moments had put her in a bad mood. “Isabella. Are you hungry, by the way?”

Come to think of it, she was, indeed. She hadn’t eaten anything since the light soup she’d had this morning.

“Yes, a little... Is it past mealtime already?”

It would’ve been hard to prepare another meal if it had passed already, so Isabella was ready to have a simple soup instead. That was if they had any left.

“No. We were waiting for you to wake up.”

They waited? Count Helsington was a stickler for mealtimes. At House Helsington, they never delayed meals for any reason. If Isabella were ever late because she was sick, he’d give her a severe look and scold her right in the middle of the meal.

If she felt like she was going to be late, she would go back to sleep and miss the meal entirely. Then after the meal was over, she would ask Joanne to fetch her a snack. But Angela said that they waited. Isabella looked out the window. It was an awkward time of day. It wasn’t midday, but the sun hadn’t started to set either.

“Isn’t it a little too early for dinner?” Isabella asked. Everyone’s eyes widened simultaneously.

“Dinner? Does House Helsington eat dinner at three o’clock? Oh dear. I suppose we should start doing that too. Then when should breakfast start?” Angela murmured, calculating their new mealtimes. She was very serious.

At first, Isabella was confused. It took her a moment to realize what the duchess was saying. “By any chance, have you not had lunch yet?”

“How could we eat without you?” Clara chirped.

Confused and apologetic, Isabella was at a loss for words.