Gentle Madness

When Kasika laughed softly at that, Noah's eyes narrowed—as if trying to gauge what she would say next, yet like a man who already knew it would not be in the direction he wanted.

"You do realize, my lady, that this is a place people come to indulge in pleasure and delight."

"So?"

"If you're meeting no one at all, wouldn't boredom creep in?"

"Did you enjoy yourself there, then?"

Noah said this, his voice perhaps lower than usual because of the morning hour.

"Belipheera is close by, so I imagine plenty of people come here to sample its pleasures. Was that true of you as well, madam?"

Pleasure, of all things. To Kasika, pleasure belonged not to humankind but to the noonday demon. The demon of sloth, of listlessness, of laziness—its stakes driven deep into her flesh. Even now, she sprawled in bed until obscene hours and refused to rise unless a maid dressed her; the books she'd hauled from the study lay strewn across the floor and the bed unless the maid gathered them up. Yes—*that* was the only pleasure she possessed.

Admittedly, all the indecent novels Kasika had read had furnished her with other kinds of knowledge.

She knew a great deal for someone who had squandered her years. She was well versed enough in the habits and ecology of the nobility. But how complete could knowledge be that never survived contact with experience? Frankly, it terrified her—crossing into unknown territory, being placed in such situations, or worse, being forced into them.

Still, there was nothing to gain from letting it show. Kasika blinked once and asked, "Does it concern you?"

"Yes."

That was not an answer she had anticipated.

"Of course it concerns me."

……Why on earth would that be *of course*?

"I have no desire to see you in the company of anyone other than me."

"How strange." Kasika went on. "If your goal is to prevent the marriage, you hardly need go to such lengths."

"It also serves a private appetite of mine."

"Meaning me?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"……Not exactly a problem."

But it *is* strange. However she looked at it, wasn't it strange?

"Free of all ties as I am, and yet you would impose restrictions on me."

"Being bound to something—when you could be free—isn't that rather better?"

"……."

Books were full of every manner of human creature, but facing one in the flesh, she found herself without any ready answer for how to deal with him.

"And if I were to meet someone in secret?"

Noah fell silent again. The gaze pouring down on her carried a certain tension, but Kasika affected unconcern, propping both legs up on the sofa and stretching out in a show of ease.

"That," Noah said at last, "would be unconscionable."

"So I'd wound you."

It was a lie.

"I suspect I'd be so heartbroken I'd spend my days weeping in my grief."

No man who'd truly been wounded could smile like that.

"Then what if I made it even—refusing everyone equally, yourself included?"

Noah's gaze fixed on Kasika's face. His lips parted, as if the answer pleased him and he meant to give it—and in that instant Kasika added, "Naturally, I mean including you, Viscount."

Noah's mouth moved. Whatever answer had been on its way retreated back down his throat as his lips pressed shut, and then his eyes curved gently. *Ahh,* came a small sound.

"On reflection, that arrangement sounds far preferable."

"……."

"Shall we draw up the contract on those terms, then? The lawyer comes tomorrow—we can discuss it."

"No."

Now that he was actually offering, she felt more uneasy than ever. Perhaps refusing really was the wiser course.

"As for this proposal of yours—"

"Kasika."

Rather than step into something she couldn't fathom, she'd sooner scrape together whatever assets she had and—

"I did not summon you all this way merely to hear a refusal."

"……."

"So then, tomorrow—"

"Be honest with me."

Kasika said it plainly. Noah still gave no answer. He simply waited, letting her carry the conversation forward.

"There's something here, isn't there?"

And Kasika, too, had known all along.

"What do you say to these terms?"

That silence, sometimes, was itself an answer.

"If you tell me every last truth, I'll strike the clause about not sharing a bed with anyone else—"

And that was perhaps why she could say such a thing.

"As your mistress."

If Noah Lambroise refused—

"Faithful to you alone, Viscount."

There was another reason hiding here. It had to be *her*, specifically.

"What hidden truth are you speaking of?"

For a moment, all expression drained from Noah's face. He seemed to be weighing it, but the answer had plainly been decided some time ago. Soon the corners of his mouth lifted, and a gap opened between his lips. "If that is what you wish, my lady," his voice flowed out.

"Then let us delete that clause."

*Ahh. So there it is.* Something else was in play. Debts settled in exchange for a woman—ridiculous on its face.

But even if something else existed, she couldn't begin to guess what. If he was making this offer simply because she was who she was…… no, still something didn't fit. Kasika Lamplis herself was too poor a prize to be the goal. Had the dead Marquis Lamplis hidden away something more? Or was it connections?

Though connections, of all things—impossible. Could it be the Elperts?

That line was dead too. And if connections were the object, he'd want her mingling with *more* people, not fewer. Which meant the terms themselves made no sense. No proposition she set against them would fit.

"And your private appetite?"

Kasika lifted her chin and smiled. Whatever schemes he was nursing, she had no intention of being taken in easily. Though it would likely be safer to *pretend* to be taken in.

Noah didn't answer. He simply looked at her in silence. But those loosened eyes, that faint smile at the corner of his mouth—they carried the particular ease of a man who had never once surrendered the initiative.

Noah rose slowly to his feet. Two strides, and he stood before Kasika. His large frame blotted out the sunlight streaming through the window. His mere presence felt enormous, and for no reason she could name, she tensed. Noah's hand came to rest on the back of her chair. He leaned in close. Kasika, conscious of her own breathing, took shallow breaths for fear it might sound too loud. The scent that washed over her was of conifers—or perhaps leather.

"In that case."

Up close, his face was prettier than she'd realized. It was no fit thing to say of a man well past his mid-twenties, but Noah Lambroise was beautiful. He took after his mother, the Countess Lambroise.

"I shall do my utmost to ensure your eyes never stray to another."

Then Noah extended his hand. Kasika stopped breathing. Watching her make no move at all, Noah smirked, caught her fingertips, raised them, and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. A meaningless courtesy, and yet she had no idea how to respond, Kasika thought. She had no immunity to such things.

"Rest well, then."

Noah said, straightening.

"I'll send word this evening."

With that, he turned. His gait looked leisurely yet was quick—no doubt a matter of stride. Kasika said nothing until he passed through the door. She simply held her breath, kept her eyes on him to the very end, and the instant the door closed, she let the trapped breath out.

The exhale was so loud she worried someone outside might have heard it.

"Good heavens."

Kasika murmured, pressing the back of her hand to her cheek—then snatched it away at once, remembering that it was the very hand Noah had kissed.

"……I'm hardly a child, after all."

Her mouth was inexplicably dry.

What was the hidden secret? Kasika's knowledge was limited, and Noah's intentions were hard to read. At best, the situation narrowed to two possibilities.

The first: he was hiding something.

Noah believed Kasika knew some secret, and to keep the information sealed, he wanted her meeting no one and staying at his side.

What she knew, then, would likely be Lambroise's secret—and if anyone had uncovered it, the likeliest candidate was Cesare Elperts II. Given that he'd blackmailed her with a forged letter, perhaps he'd assumed the dead Count Elperts had confided something to him before dying. She'd considered the Marquis Lamplis as well, but that man had never had any connection to the Lambroises in the first place.

The second: he was searching for something.

Here, too, the common thread was Count Elperts. Could the Count have extorted Lambroise's secret, or something precious to him? Dead though he was, if evidence remained—or some object—it might come circling back to Kasika as an inheritance. All the more so if it were a mine, or land, or the like.

No—could there be an inheritance even Kasika herself knew nothing of? In which case Lambroise, coveting it……. But what could this grand family possibly extort from a shabby count's house like the Elperts? Did they own a mountain with a gold vein in it? Besides, the gold mine had been on the Lambroise side, so even that seemed unlikely to tempt them. And if he were searching for something, there was no way he'd block people from approaching her.

Kasika lifted the contract again. There was the graceful hand—not Noah's.

"If you'd simply been honest with me, I'd have helped you."