Chapter 36: Unpredictable Woman
—SEBASTIAN BLACKWOOD—
"Is there... sothing funny, Your Grace?" Cynthia asked carefully.
Her voice pulled back to the present, though only barely.
I realized then that I had been silent for longer than appropriate, staring into nothing while my thoughts drifted sowhere far beyond this balcony, beyond this estate, beyond even the conversation I was currently supposed to be having.
I exhaled quietly and straightened my posture.
"No," I replied at last as my composure returned. "Forgive . I was rely thinking of sothing unrelated."
Cynthia studied for a brief mont, her gaze calm yet observant that made it clear she was not entirely convinced. She did not press further, however.
Instead, she lowered her teacup as though choosing silence over intrusion was its own form of courtesy.
"I see," she said softly. "Forgive for interrupting your thoughts, Your Grace."
Instead of responding, I found myself rising from my seat.
The motion was abrupt enough that Cynthia blinked in surprise.
"Forgive , Lady Cynthia," I said, offering a formal bow. "I must take my leave. I have urgent matters to attend to."
Her eyes widened slightly, a little caught off guard by the suddenness of my departure.
"Oh... of course, Your Grace."
There was hesitation in her voice, but I did not remain long enough to acknowledge it properly.
Not because I lacked manners.
But because remaining there any longer would have ant continuing a conversation I no longer had the patience for.
Or worse.
It would have ant sitting still long enough to fully recognize what I was avoiding.
I turned away from the balcony without delay.
The corridor beyond felt longer than it should have as I stepped back inside the estate. Servants imdiately bowed upon my passing, respecting as usual.
But I did not acknowledge them.
My attention had already moved ahead of .
There was only one direction now.
Only one place that made sense.
Aria.
I want to see her.
I need to see her.
The thought arrived with unsettling clarity, as if it had been waiting beneath everything else to surface the mont I stopped speaking.
As I moved into the estate, I ascended the grand staircase leading toward the upper corridor where her chambers were located. The higher I went, the quieter everything beca.
Which was a little new to .
A few days ago, I would have preferred this silence.
It was predictable, controlled, and free of disruption.
Now, however...
It felt wrong.
I reached the corridor leading to her chambers and slowed slightly. The final stretch was familiar enough that I did not need to consciously guide my steps, yet I found myself adjusting my pace regardless.
It was inappropriate for a man of my position to approach a lady’s private quarters without prior notice.
I was aware of that.
Completely.
And yet I continued walking.
Because propriety no longer felt relevant in the sa way it usually did.
I had already decided.
I would speak with her.
I would resolve whatever this situation had beco before it progressed further into sothing I could not clearly define.
Because remaining uncertain was no longer acceptable.
Not after everything that had shifted recently.
Not after...
"Your Grace?"
The voice cut through my thoughts cleanly.
I stopped.
A maid stood near the corridor entrance, hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her posture was respectful, but her expression held uncertainty, as though she did not understand why I was here at all.
I adjusted my stance imdiately.
"Yes?" I replied.
The maid hesitated briefly before speaking.
"...May I ask what brings you here?"
"I wish to speak with Lady Aria," I said plainly.
There was no reason to complicate it.
The maid blinked in surprise, then glanced toward the closed door behind her.
"Oh," she said softly. "Lady Aria is not inside at the mont."
I frowned slightly.
"That is not what I was inford."
The maid nodded quickly, as though correcting herself.
"Yes, Your Grace. It has been quite a while since she had locked herself inside her room."
"And now?"
"She did," the maid continued carefully, "but she suddenly ca out dressed and left the estate a short while ago with her servant, Ren."
Silence settled imdiately.
I stared at her without speaking.
"...Left?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"She left a few minutes ago," the maid added quickly, noticing my silence. "Very suddenly. She seed... in a hurry."
My gaze drifted past her toward the closed door.
The room that was supposed to contain her.
The room I had co here to reach.
A strange sensation settled beneath my chest.
It felt as though I had arrived at a place where the situation had already moved forward without informing .
"...With that servant," I repeated slowly.
"Yes, Your Grace."
I clenched my fists subtly trying to keep my own jealousy, that I know.
That man again.
Always beside her recently.
Always present when others were not.
Always...
I stopped the thought before it could fully form into sothing I dare not acknowledge.
It was irrelevant.
It should have been irrelevant.
I exhaled once, asured and controlled, then turned slightly away from the corridor.
"Did she state where she intended to go?" I asked.
The maid shook her head imdiately.
"No, Your Grace. She only said she wanted to go out."
I remained silent for a mont longer.
Then I nodded once.
"I understand."
I turned away completely and began walking back toward the staircase.
The fact that it irritated that Aria had gone sowhere with another man I did not even recognize, continued to linger in my mind without permission.
It should not have mattered.
There was no formal obligation anymore. The engagent had already been dissolved. By every reasonable standard, her activities were no longer my concern.
And yet...
Sothing inside refused to accept that conclusion so cleanly.
It was unfamiliar. Unsettling in its persistence. Not anger in the usual sense, nor simple annoyance. It was sharper than indifference, heavier than logic.
A thought surfaced before I could suppress it.
Is this simply jealousy?
The word itself felt improper when applied to . Impractical. Almost absurd.
I slowed slightly at the bottom of the staircase with one hand resting briefly against the railing, as I considered it with more scrutiny than I would normally allow.
Am I rely frustrated because she refuses to see ?
Because she will not speak to , will not acknowledge , will not even allow my presence to reach her?
It would make sense for pride alone to be unsettled. For a man of my position to find rejection inconvenient.
But even that did not feel sufficient.
Because rejection, in itself, was not new.
What was new... was that she did not simply avoid .
She changed..pletely.
One mont she stood before with clarity in her decision, as though severing what had once mattered deeply. The next, she behaved with an openness I could not reconcile with the Aria I thought I understood.
I groaned in frustration and tried to calm myself down.
For now, I should look for her.
That unpredictable woman.
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