Chapter 20

The baroness's funeral needed to be arranged quickly, but the weather was so cold that the ground had frozen hard, making digging increasingly difficult. Baron Hilde intended to have the body moved to the church, but Vivienne stopped him. "No one can take my mother away from here! She is the baroness; she should be sent off from the estate!"

"Nonsense!" Baron Hilde shouted in the study. "She is dead. Do you want to live in the same house with a corpse?"

"Father!" Vivienne exclaimed in disbelief. "How can you say that!"

"Enough! If you continue to be so unreasonable, I will reconsider your dowry," the baron said firmly. "George is about to wake up. Go tend to him."

Vivienne, too angry to speak, turned and left the study. She lifted her skirt and walked quickly down the hallway, tears streaming from her eyes. She bit her lip, refusing to make a sound.

She strode into George's room, startling the maid by the cradle, who quickly stood up to curtsy. "I will look after George. You may leave," Vivienne said, trying to maintain her composure.

The maid left with her head lowered.

George was still asleep in the cradle. This child, whom the baroness had given her life to bear, was the only heir to the Hilde estate. Perhaps one day he would become a great gentleman, but now he was just a helpless baby. Vivienne looked down at him, this fragile life swaddled in soft blankets, so small that it seemed a mere touch could break him.

For a moment, she almost hated him.

The baroness, weakened by pregnancy, had had to use all her strength to marry off Vivienne and Jennifer quickly. The seemingly happy family was actually just maintaining appearances. This baby had acted as a catalyst, pushing everything toward an irreversible end.

Vivienne reached out and brushed George's long eyelashes. It would be a long time before he could fend for himself; she could only rely on herself for now.

Michael's fever had subsided, but his body was still frail, and he often felt tired. He and Vincent had finally been honest with each other, at least on one side. He had torn open his chest, offering his heart to Vincent, asking him to do as he wished and not to mind.

This gave Michael a sense of indulgence.

"Come back with me," Vincent said, kissing his hand. "You can stay in my room. I'll hide you away where no one can see."

"I have to attend the funeral."

"Of course."

They had reached an agreement.

Susan's funeral was held, and her grave was so cold that it was difficult to place flowers on it. Snow covered the hard ground, burying the noblewoman. Whether her soul had reached heaven was unknown, but her body would surely decay in the coffin.

Many gentlemen and ladies attended as expected, dressed in black coats and elegant black hats, expressing their sorrow out of courtesy. Vivienne, holding Anna's hand, stood quietly to the side, thanking the ladies who came to offer their condolences.

It was still a social occasion.

Michael stared blankly at the ground. He had buried his mother, father, and brother, and now Susan. The fragility of life was like a fleeting meteor. In the near future, he too would lie here.

Snow began to fall.

"Let's go," Vincent said, holding an umbrella. He made no intimate gestures in public. However, the umbrella was so small that their shoulders could touch without drawing attention.

Let's go.

Susan was gone, but life went on. Vivienne's wedding was scheduled, but it seemed rather bleak in this winter. The ladies of the estate donned black dresses and prepared for the wedding in the somber black atmosphere.

"Vivienne, do you really have to get married?" Anna asked, lying on Vivienne's lap reluctantly. In a short time, she had experienced the loss of two female relatives, which had a significant impact on her. Now Anna stayed by Vivienne's side all day, seeking the love and comfort of a mother and sister from the young lady who was three years her senior.

"We can wait until spring when the flowers bloom, perfect for your wedding," Anna said. "Please, my dear sister, at least spend Christmas with us, okay?"

Vivienne stroked Anna's hair. Her wedding was scheduled for Christmas Eve, and not even her mother's death could make Baron Hilde postpone it. From another perspective, she was also eager to leave here and start a new life.

My poor Anna, what will she do when I am gone? Vivienne thought silently. She would soon escape this estate, but Anna was only fourteen, with two years until her social season began, and no mother to introduce her.

But I can.

"Don't worry, you can come to my estate for Christmas."

"Really, Vivienne?" Anna looked up, her face as delicate as a flower, despite the heavy black veil.

"Of course," Vivienne said solemnly. "I promise a carriage will come to pick you up."

Michael returned to Thomas Manor with Vincent as promised. The interaction between gentlemen would not arouse suspicion. The duke had welcomed him warmly on the first day, but then rarely appeared. The manor's steward and servants all obeyed Vincent, which was unusual. Although Vincent was the sole heir, the duke was still alive and in good health.

The duchess did not like Hope Town. Despite their grand castle, it was clearly far from London. "This damn countryside, it doesn't even have any decent jewelry!" she complained, rummaging through her jewelry box, the gemstones reflecting dazzling light, though the styles were old. "I want to go back! Back to London! Or Paris, even." The duchess shouted at her son. Vincent listened in silence for a while, then leaned forward, leaving the back of the chair, showing a bit of impatience.

The duchess closed her mouth in fear.

"Behave yourself," Vincent said, showing little respect for the woman who bore him. Their relationship was distant, more so than the average noble mother and son. "We won't go back until William ascends the throne."

He had no intention of returning even after William's accession.

"Fine," the duchess conceded reluctantly, "for William's sake."

Michael was reading in the study. The fire burned brightly, the room warm. Michael sat by the fireplace, feeling drowsy from the heat. When Vincent opened the door, he saw Edward slumped in the chair, a book gradually slipping from his hand.

He quickly stepped forward to catch the book, placing it on the nearby table. Michael opened his eyes drowsily and received a long, tender kiss.

As if they had been in love for ten years.

"What are you reading?" Vincent asked, kneeling on the floor, holding Michael's face as if cradling a drop of dew precariously perched on a leaf. Being slightly shorter than Michael, he looked up at him, his gaze focused and deep.

"Oh," Michael squinted, trying to remember, "a love story. I forgot the name."

"Was their love fascinating?"

"Yes," Michael answered quickly, then smiled and hooked his arms around Vincent's neck…