I Have No Intention of Raising Him as Heir

Maeve disliked the nanny and butler’s sly manner—impossible to tell whether it sprang from malice or goodwill. Their expressions looked sincere enough, yet their words carried a strange, pointed edge.

A simple explanation would have sufficed: There seems to have been a misunderstanding. It was our oversight. Instead the butler went out of his way to name the young duke and pin the blame squarely on him, while the nanny, who claimed to protect the child, spoke first of his flaws without knowing a single thing about him.

The worse the rumors about the young duke, the more carefully the servants ought to have handled him. Yet the way they used him as an excuse felt almost like an invitation to slander him further and feed the gossip mill.

Was it only her imagination? Or…

Maeve decided she needed to confirm why the duke and the young duke seemed so estranged. If a third party was meddling in that relationship, the first step would be to cut that person out.

She sat at the desk and picked up her pen.

Maeve stood before the enormous townhouse and scanned the letter once more. Roughly a month remained until the Founding Festival—the very period when the social season reached its peak.

In other words, Lonval, the imperial capital, was overflowing with nobles who had flocked there in search of prey. It was a chance to secure advantageous matches or exchange information, and, as always happened when people gathered, a season when every sort of rumor spilled freely.

In Maeve’s previous life the Duke of Cardenas had never once missed the Founding Festival. Considering the rumors that he spent most of his time on his estate and rarely attended such parties, one could fully grasp how vital the festival was to the nobility.

Maeve drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. When she knocked on the knocker affixed to the gate, the butler who had stood beside the nanny last time opened the door and bowed politely.

“Good day. We have been expecting you after receiving word.”

“Yes. It has been some time.”

Before Maeve could even raise the previous incident, the butler’s mouth opened swiftly.

“The last occasion was truly most discourteous. It occurred because our young duke is still so young; we hope you will kindly understand.”

There he goes again. Maeve forced a smile, fighting the urge to let her expression crumple.

“…I understand. You must have a hard time of it. Is His Grace present today?”

“Yes, of course. He is waiting in the inner study.”

The butler guided her inside with a naturally faint smile. His straight back and confident stride were those of a well-trained butler—impeccable manners and bearing, yet an undercurrent of contempt for the young duke that surfaced in conversation.

Maeve found that the more distasteful part. She could not shake the sense that it was a cunning little performance designed to make any rebuke awkward.

“Your Grace, Lady Maeve Evofil, who has applied for the position of the young duke’s private tutor, has arrived.”

“Enter.”

Standing before the study door, the butler knocked respectfully and reported Maeve’s visit in a calm voice. The moment he finished, the duke’s composed voice drifted through the crack—identical in tone to the one she had heard right up until her death. The butler stepped aside so she could enter.

It was the first time she had met the duke since dying. Gripping the doorknob, Maeve closed her eyes; crimson eyes that had once glowed in pitch-black darkness rose before her. She thought she felt again the rough, scraping sensation in her throat from the poison she had swallowed, and she stroked her neck once.

Yes. This moment is real. Pull yourself together. With that resolve she turned the knob and opened the door. The duke sat in the chair opposite, chin propped on one hand as he reviewed documents; at the sound of her footsteps he lifted his gaze. He raised his eyes, confirmed her face, then returned to the papers, flipping through her application as he asked,

“…So. You wish to become Aern’s tutor?”

“Yes. It is a pleasure to meet you for the first… time. I am Maeve Evofil.”

“Top graduate of the Imperial Academy, and a letter of recommendation from a central noble as well. You must have had many better offers.”

He dropped the documents onto the desk with a soft thud and questioned her in an impassive tone. Maeve felt a vague sense that those red eyes were piercing straight through her. To hide her trembling hands she clasped them tightly together.

“What counts as a ‘better offer’ is subjective. Above all, I made up my mind after seeing the young duke at the Imperial Academy.”

“At the Academy?”

The duke seemed to weigh something, then tilted his head to one side.

“As far as I know, Aern’s grades were hardly outstanding.”

So he wasn’t entirely uninterested in the young duke. Maeve thought, arranging her face into a look of mild regret.

“Have you heard nothing at all of the other matters that occurred at the Academy?”

“…Other matters?”

One eyebrow rose as he tapped the desk with a fingertip. Then he turned his gaze to the white-haired old man reviewing papers beside him.

“Hagen, has the nanny reported anything?”

“Nothing, Your Grace. The letters merely stated that he was living in good health.”

Maeve bit her lip hard. She had thought that if the young duke had not first told the nanny about Joshua, the woman might truly not know. Yet at the same time she recalled the bruise marks on the boy’s legs—wounds clearly visible even under the Academy uniform. How could a nanny claim ignorance of that? Unease was hardening into certainty.

“So they say. I am curious what you saw at the Academy.”

The duke folded his arms and leaned back against the chair. The sharp edge in his voice, set against his blank expression, felt chilling.

Maeve closed her mouth and paused. Should she state outright that the nanny was suspicious? She hesitated, glancing around the room.

Even allowing that this was a study fitted out inside a townhouse, it was excessively bare. Few pieces of furniture, and aside from the man called Hagen and one other assistant, no one else. Too few servants and aides for a household of this scale. The duke was not the sort who kept many people close. Maeve reached that conclusion.

“…As someone who works as a tutor, finding a student one truly wishes to teach is quite a joy. I happened to see the young duke struggling with etiquette at the Academy… and simply thought I wanted to teach him.”

She lifted the corners of her mouth as though recalling the child’s charming face. If the duke kept few people near him, it meant he had at least vetted those he did keep to some degree. Pressing the nanny issue here would likely only provoke his resistance and cast suspicion on herself instead.

“…Dull.”

“Oh my. Such opportunities are rare for a tutor. He seemed someone I would regret missing, so I seized the chance.”

The duke uncrossed his arms with a look of mild exasperation.

“In that case I am sorry, but I have no intention of hiring a tutor for Aern.”

Maeve’s brow furrowed. She smoothed her expression at once and answered in a gentle voice.

“It may be presumptuous of me, yet the young duke still lacks knowledge of noble society. If a tutor were at his side to assist him, it would be more than—”

“No. That is not the issue.”

“…Then is it that I myself am not to your liking?”

She asked in a trembling voice. This was the same man who had treated even a captive woman with considerable courtesy in her previous life. Her words then—that they might become friends—had not been a lie. Because of that memory she had never expected so abrupt a refusal.

“As you will have seen from the documents I brought, I graduated top of the Academy and have even taught the Chancellor’s daughter. I am confident I will never disappoint you.”

“That remains to be seen.”

He gave a short laugh as he regarded the woman desperately listing her credentials.

“Then… is it because you think I will abandon the post and leave the way previous tutors did? I would never do something so irresponsible—!”

“True. You do not look like that sort of person.”

Maeve’s mind filled with questions. It was not that her record displeased him, nor that he expected her to quit as quickly as the others. Then why? She hid her growing anxiety and waited for him to speak.

“You seem to be under a misunderstanding, so I will be direct.”

Maeve blinked.

“I have no intention of raising Aern as my heir.”

She slowly unclenched the hands she had held neatly together. The room fell utterly silent. Maeve tilted her head in puzzlement.

“You are famous for having deliberately adopted a collateral-line boy of unclear origins precisely because you needed an heir.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. And yet you say you have no intention of raising him as one?”

Selver shrugged. His expression remained perfectly calm.