Beneath the Savior’s Feet - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“I have no letter of recommendation and no experience as a housekeeper.”

“The work is only basic household chores, so special education is not necessary. We prioritize those with a certain social status. After all, this place is just an intermediary, and the hiring decision will be made by a noble family.”

The employee thrust at her a document that appeared to be an introduction letter from a job agency, seemingly not even considering the possibility of rejection. Liese accepted it with a chill.

“The salary is much higher than that of a seamstress, so please consider it. We are looking for a contract worker, not a live-in maid, so it can be done as a side job.”

A high salary. Her gaze naturally drifted to the introduction letter with the irresistible offer.

The recipient was listed as Count Baltazar del Bachmann and addressed to the Chamberlain.

Bachmann was a lively and romantic town.

The central station was always bustling with passengers, and the Miller River, flowing under a clear sky, attracted the attention of every passerby.

The clock tower stood tall near the square with its huge fountain, and scarlet-roofed buildings stretched into the distance.

There was no part of the city that was not beautiful, having absorbed the warm air of the west and the refined architecture of the north.

On the highest point of the city stood the ducal palace of Baltazar.

The magnificent mansion, which could be described as a citadel, commanded a panoramic view of the city. As the owner of a vast and rich estate, it was a privilege reserved for the Duke alone.

The view from the Duke’s office in the center of the mansion’s main building was particularly spectacular with tall windows letting in the romance of the city.

From there, Marcus watched the city with numb eyes.

He sat at a large ebony desk, puffing on a cigarette from time to time, his head tilted toward the window. He looked very bored indeed.

“Look at this. It’s a pink envelope!”

The man’s laughter caught his attention. Marcus’ eyes went to the coffee table a few feet away.

Trevor, a former classmate and long-time acquaintance, was holding up one from the piles of letters.

“This is from Dawson. Can I read it?”

“As you wish.”

Marcus replied in a dry voice, stretching his legs out on the desk.

His long legs crossed, scattering the papers on it. Three or four sheets fell with a crunch, but he didn’t seem to mind, sucking on his cigarette.

Trevor tore open the envelope with anticipation. He sat down with a flippant air and cleared his throat.

“Greetings, Duke Baltazar. I hope you have arrived safely in Bachmann, where my mind is still on the last night of the Victory Ceremony. Phew!”

Trevor, who had deliberately raised his voice to read the letter, chuckled. He looked back at Marcus with a mischievous expression.

“She’s quite an outspoken young lady, what kind of magic has she invoked to make herself smell so sweet right down to the paper?”

“She must have had a nice dream.”

“Didn’t you give her a night to die for before?”

Marcus sucked on his cigarette until his cheeks burned, and exhaled a lazy stream of white smoke instead of answering. His impassive gaze didn’t even stray to the scroll in Trevor’s hand.

“Just tell us, Marcus. What the hell did you do?”

“Done what?”

There was a hint of mockery in the raised bass tone. Trevor gave him an exasperated look.

“Come on. Look at this. You claimed last night you’d never forget it.”

Trevor was a pitiful sight, clutching the pink letter and whimpering. Eric, sitting on the other side of Trevor, clicked his tongue sarcastically.

“Stop looking at me. You couldn’t even use it with your top on,” Eric retorted.

“Tops aside, I’m the third son of a free-spirited count, and I’m a particular favorite with ladies who like to be fucked without looking back… you know that, don’t you?”

Trevor replied.

“I don’t. You and Marcus have different hands, do you think you’ll ever play on the same level?”

“I don’t think it’s a big game, Dawson.”

Trevor said with a grin.

“She’s definitely fallen for you though, I could tell by the way she clung to your arm and rubbed against your chest until the last day of the party. Poor Hayley Dawson, she must be having a hard time with that insensitive duke.”

“I don’t suppose Marcus chose his mate on the basis that she wore a skirt like yours; it was a conscious decision, because without her every lady in the capital would be pouncing on him like dogs.”

“Are you the Duke’s spokesman, or what?”

Eric shook his head in disbelief at Trevor’s outburst.

Trevor’s voice filled the room as he finished reading the letter. Eric had to look over to see if the Duke was uncomfortable.

Marcus was still staring out the window, his eyes downcast. Ever since the terrible war had ended, the Duke had seemed strangely dull. He had every right to be bored, now that he had laid down his heavy burden and earned his medal of honor.

Marcus’ hair glistened a bright gold in the sunlight filtering through the glass. His silver-blue eyes, accentuated by the narrowing of his pupils, had taken on a strange color. Even Eric, who had known the Duke longer than Trevor, found himself admiring him anew.

On the day of his return to Bachmann, it made sense that Marcus had declined the honor of being received by the townspeople and returned by road. It was worth the trouble of dealing with a mob of people who were thrilled to see him in uniform, with his striking features and burly frame. Duke Baltazar was the center of attention at the capital’s triumphant ceremonies throughout the week.

Eric’s attention was drawn back to the pile of letters on the coffee table.

“Did you get your partner?”

He asked Marcus.

Marcus tore his eyes from the window.

“The upcoming summer party. You’ve been talking about it everywhere. Do you have a girl in mind?”

“Will you be honoring Young Lady Dawson again?”

Trevor interrupted, picking up another letter. Eric gave him a pathetic look.

“I suppose this season’s partner has some significance; it’s the first tournament match since the end of the war,” Eric explained.

There was a superstition that a man and woman united in love in peacetime would live to be a hundred.

As a publicly accepted belief, there was no shortage of nobles eager to take advantage of the three-month summer conclave to tie the knot with the children of prominent families.

Even Eric, who had only recently assumed the title, found it difficult to choose a partner, not to mention Marcus, who had already cemented his position as Duke.

Here’s the corrected version of the text:

The letters that have taken up residence in his office were all aimed at making Marcus a partner in the social season.

As the event is being held in Bachmann, the presiding officer is Duke Baltazar. He’s a war hero and a bachelor, so he’s bound to be the center of attention.

His partner for this social event would be a silent spouse.

“Well… I don’t think I’d want a girl who’d come running to me with a dot on her head to be my partner. Don’t you?”

Trevor grinned and looked back at Marcus. Marcus, expecting his usual dismissive response, was surprised.

“I guess I’m boring when I choose the predictable.”

“Oh… Is that Hayley Dawson?”

“Just someone.”

Marcus stubbed out his cigarette in the crystal-encrusted ashtray. The breeze from the open window ruffled his rich blond hair. Eric’s mouth opened as if he’d remembered something.

“By the way, why don’t we meet for lunch at the club this weekend? I’ve got a special Belfort whisky on tap, and we can have a drink and a game of cards with the boys.”

Trevor’s face lit up at the suggestion, and he clapped his hands together

“That would be great! There’s nothing like paying the bills at a gentlemen’s club, and if there are some pretty girls there, it will be perfect.”

“You’re a soldier now, so you’d better get out of the habit of fooling around with women. The Count would faint if he knew of your scandalous behavior.”

“He won’t know until you tell him. So will you join us in our broad daylight romp, Colonel?”

At Trevor’s exaggerated scowl, Marcus took a drag on the fresh cigarette he had just pulled out.

“I’m afraid I have a prior engagement and can’t join you.”

“Don’t. What’s the fun in betting if you’re not there?”

“Wasn’t it just the other day that I begged you, penniless as I was, not to put me on the gambling board again?”

“Heh. The ladies are flocking to you like ants to a honey pot.”

Chuckling unabashedly, Trevor rubbed the bridge of his nose and stood up, then picked up his lighter and relit the end of Marcus’ cigarette.

Marcus inhaled the smoke happily and then kicked Trevor in the shin in front of him. Trevor jumped at the sudden violence.

“Why did you hit me?!”

“Don’t grovel before the boss,”

Marcus ordered in a monotone.

Trevor, looking stunned, spoke a beat too late.

“What else do you do to a boss but grovel, and I’m a veteran…!”

Another relentless kick flew at him. Trevor rolled on the floor in agony.

“Stop whining like a child.”

Trevor scrambled to his feet and backed away. He lifted one foot and limped like an idiot. Tears were streaming down his face, and he looked like he was in pain.

Marcus’ expression softened slightly as he watched the comedy unfold. Eric stuck his tongue out at the humanity of the man who took such pleasure in beating Trevor.

Of course, little Trevor picks and chooses what he wants to do to you…. That’s why they beat him up in the army.

Anyway, there is also a problem with the Duke’s broken character.

What was worse was that no one could predict when, where, or why his judgment would change.

I feel sorry for the young lady who will be his partner. She’ll have a hard time dealing with his unruly personality if she’s stuck with him for the whole ball season.