Standing in front of the garden's fountain, Charles watched the continuous ripples in his reflection. Expression sullen, his hands rested limply in his pockets as he wondered what was happening at the castle. Had the Prince agreed to the engagement upon seeing Emilia? Would he be coming back with her to meet her family? When would the wedding be?

Why hadn't he told her?

His fists clenched inside his pockets, his eyes narrowing into a hard stare against the water.

Why couldn't he tell her?

Did it really not matter?

Had he really been too late?

"You've been out here for quite a while, haven't you?" came the soft and curious voice of Grand-Duchess Hellen.

Shaking his thoughts from his mind the best he could, Charles turned to greet the smiling mistress, who approached with folded hands and a slightly tilted head. He offered his best smile and a bow in return as she came to a stop beside him, glancing at the fountain in question.

"Forgive me, my lady. I hadn’t meant to disturb you. I'll retire immediately, if it will ease your mind," he apologized with a bowed head.

"Is something bothering you?"

Charles smiled to himself, giving a slight shake of his head. "It seems I'm at a loss of what to do with myself without the young miss," he weakly chuckled. "I'm not one to take time off."

"True," Hellen nodded. "You're quite a diligent worker. We greatly appreciate you," she went on. "I haven't a doubt that we owe much of Emilia's demeanor to you. And you've been the best of influences over the years."

"You give me too much credit, Miss."

The Grand-Duchess shook her head with closed eyes. "My husband told me about last night before they left."

Charles paused, before cautiously turning to look her in the eyes. But to his surprise, they weren't threatening. They weren't even skeptical, but Charles' were.

"How you were comforting her about today's meeting with the prince."

"Yes ..." he truthfully admitted. "This is something she's wanted for so long. I'm sure she's extremely nervous - and for good reason."

"I agree ..." Charles' brows furrowed at the tone of her voice as if to lead into another topic. "But I'm more so curious about what you were doing out here at such an hour

"My lady?"

"You mentioned having trouble sleeping."

"Yes ... I ... had woken up. I come to the garden to think. It just so happened that Emilia had chosen to do the same that evening."

"And why did you have trouble sleeping?" Charles hesitated to answer, seeing the look in her eyes shift from innocent to condemning. "Was it because of Emilia's meeting?" Charles' eyes widened. "When we made the announcement, I saw your reaction. You looked mortified, though you tried to hide it."

"That was merely ..." Charles struggled to come up with an appropriate answer, his brow catching a cold sweat under the scrutinizing gaze of the Grand-Duchess. Heart thudding in his chest, he swallowed the dry lump in his throat. "The years have passed so quickly."

"Most would call her a late bloomer," Hellen scoffed. "I was married before my sixteenth year."

"I suppose ..."

"And you?" The Grand-Duchess smiled. "Haven't you any thoughts of marriage? You're approaching your twenty-fifth year if I'm not mistaken. Surely there is one that has caught your eye?" she playfully mused.

With averted eyes, Charles couldn't help but frown, though he quickly corrected it along with the posture of his back.

"You're not. It has crossed my mind a time or two. But ... I'd much rather see the young Duchess through her own happiness before bothering with mine."

Hellen gave a knowing nod. Charles wasn't fooling her. She had seen the way he'd looked at her. How he treated her, listened to her. Her hand came to rest against the inside of Charles' arm, drawing his attention, though his eyes remained lowered.

"I'd advise you to leave my daughter's affairs as they are," she warned, her tone shifting to that of a scolding one. Charles body stiffened as she closed the distance between them.

"Ma'am?" he uttered in the place of moving away.

"Should you still desire a woman of this household, you know the location of my chambers," she purred. "There are things a woman of my age can show a man of yours that Emilia couldn't fathom." Eyes wide, Charles' jaw clenched shut as the Grand-Duchess leaned against him, purposefully lending him the feel of her breasts.

His arms, being groped by the bold mistress, twitched in their urge to shove the woman from his space. Smiling at the darkening shades of Charles' cheeks, the Grand-Duchess pulled herself away, turning on her heel before walking back into the Estate.

Staggered, Charles fell onto the edge of the fountain, eyes bugged and blood pumping.

What in heaven's name?

"You lie through your teeth," Alfred insisted, leaning over the counter of his cooking station to gawk at the story Charles had just told.

"I don't, though I may be gravely ill."

"You'll have to acquire proof," Alfred teasingly demanded, flicking his hand towel.

"Proof!" Charles exclaimed. "In what form, prey tell?"

"A bastard child, perhaps?" hummed Alfred. "Surely if the Grand-Duchess addressed you as you claim, conceiving one shouldn't be difficult."

"You just want my head as a prize, and whatever else the Grand-Duke would decide to remove."

With a toying finger against his bearded chin, Alfred smiled. "I have been wanting to spice up my Shepard's pie."

"Bastard," Charles groaned.

"You flatter me. But the question remains," he snipped, picking up his wooden spoon and pointing it at the bewildered butler. "What do you intend to do about her offer?"

"Do?" Charles frowned. "Absolutely nothing."

"But is that wise?"

"Would it be wiser to lose my life?"

"As opposed to what? Continuing to chase after the now engaged young miss? Which her mother seems to be aware of. Because that's going oh so well."

"I won't pursue either of them, Alfred."

Hand over his chest, Alfred rose a brow. "If you're going to confess to me, you're going to want to pick a better location." He shook his head in a scolding manner, his low, honey-blonde ponytail shifting against his chef's attire. "I'm working."

Face flattening, Charles turned from his loony friend and exited the kitchen. Alfred cackled to himself, waving his hand towel in a farewell.

Walking through the halls, Charles continued reviewing his inner thoughts. Even though he had just claimed to abandon his pursuit, could he really?

Could he really just let go of Emilia for the sake of her happiness? Could he really just give up all hope of taking the prince's place for the sake of his own?

And what of the Grand-Duchess? A chill ran through his spine at the sheer thought of the possible punishments.

"Heaven help me," he groaned as he approached the window at the end of the hall. And in time to see Emilia's returning carriage, thankful to see her residing within it.