You Are Gentle, But You Don’t Love Me - Chapter 34

He continued speaking without waiting for Juliet’s response—calmly, as if he were merely making a report.

“She was alone.”

“…Is that so?”

A brief silence followed, then a faint sigh. Only then did Cassio speak again.

“Yes. Not even a single maid accompanied her. She had a coachman with her, but that’s to be expected since she came by carriage.”

“…”

“I arranged for her to stay in the guest house for the time being. It was late, so I suggested we discuss things later, but… she didn’t seem inclined to tell me anything. She didn’t look to be in the best mood, either.”

Juliet fell into thought, offering only a faintly awkward smile. Cassio, sipping his tea as if to quench some thirst, slowly added,

“…Could she have argued with the Marquis?”

“No.”

Her immediate answer made him widen his eyes in surprise. But Juliet, unaware of his reaction, remained deep in thought.

That can’t be it.

There was no way Rosaline would have come all the way to Escalus just because of something like that. More than that, she had arrived alone, without even a maid, traveling by carriage.

“Rosie, the Marchioness of Arborea, wouldn’t even need a coachman if she wanted.”

Cassio had assumed she had no choice but to bring one, but Juliet thought his reasoning was only half correct.

“She could have come on horseback?”

“Yes.”

Rosaline was strong. Her riding skills were excellent—far superior to Juliet’s.

“But that would be too…”

“There’s a shortcut.”

It took three to four hours to travel from Arborea to Escalus by carriage, but on horseback, that time could be cut nearly in half. There was a path inaccessible to carriages.

“Rosie knows that route.”

If, as Cassio suggested, Rosaline had truly argued with Romeo and stormed out of Arborea in anger, she wouldn’t have wasted time finding a coachman. She would have gone straight to the stables, mounted a horse, and left. That would have been much faster.

“She could have just driven the carriage herself, too.”

“The Marchioness? Drive a carriage?”

“…Yes.”

Most noblewomen wouldn’t know how to handle a carriage, but Rosaline Calliari wasn’t just any noblewoman. She had been the most reckless young lady in all of Sardinia.

She firmly believed that anything a man could do, she could do too—and she proved it.

“Before she got married, she was scolded by her father multiple times for driving her racing carriage alone.”

“That’s… impressive.”

“She was. But…”

Yet, despite all that, she had chosen to arrive by carriage, with a coachman.

“What could have stopped her from riding a horse or driving herself?”

Juliet asked the question absentmindedly, only to realize Cassio had gone silent, watching her intently.

His expression was strange.

His brows were slightly furrowed as if in mild discomfort, but there was a faint hint of amusement at the corners of his lips. He looked pleased—yet, at times, something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

“Why…?”

It was as though he were observing some rare, curious creature. Or perhaps staring at an unsolvable riddle.

Or even gazing at an old, perplexing storybook.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re adorable, Juliet.”

Unable to bear it, Juliet asked, but all she got in return was a frivolous response. The expression she had struggled to decipher disappeared the moment their eyes met, melting away like frost in the sun.

Instead, his usual smile took its place.

“Well… one thing’s certain.”

He sighed, adjusting his expression.

“And what’s that?”

“Our home seems to have become a sanctuary for runaway nobles.”

Juliet covered her lips with the teacup she had been holding. She hadn’t intended to laugh, but his resigned tone made it impossible to suppress.

And so, their midnight tea ended with that small burst of laughter. Cassio tossed out a few more jokes before rising naturally from his seat, and Juliet escorted him to the door of his bedroom.

Standing at the doorway, she was about to bid him goodnight when an unexpected question surfaced in her mind.

“Your Grace.”

“Hm?”

“Have you… met Rosie before?”

It was an abrupt question. Juliet regretted it the moment she asked.

But—

“No.”

Cassio simply shook his head with an easy smile.

For some reason, Juliet felt embarrassed. As if he had seen straight through her thoughts.

But then, no one ever had before…

Anyone who met Rosaline was inevitably stunned by her beauty. No one had ever failed to be captivated, to lavish her with praise.

Perhaps he was the same…

“And yet, I recognized her instantly.”

“…”

“She looks just like you.”

But Cassio’s answer was nothing like what Juliet had expected. His expression remained unreadable, just as it had moments ago.

“Sleep well. Make sure to close the windows.”

“…”

“Sweet dreams.”

He left with a grin, turning away. His figure grew smaller and smaller as he strode off, until finally, he disappeared from sight.

Yet even after he was gone, Juliet remained standing by the door for a little while longer—wearing a rather dazed expression.

＊ ＊ ＊

The next morning was surprisingly peaceful. Thanks to Rosaline quietly staying in the guest house.

Juliet found that incredibly odd. She had half-expected to open her eyes only to find her sister barging into her bedroom first thing in the morning.

That wasn’t the only strange thing.

“She hasn’t eaten anything. She refused everything…”

“…”

Juliet usually started her mornings with a cup of hot tea and a piece of bread—like any proper lady.

But Rosaline was not one for such modest meals. The moment she woke up, she devoured a breakfast that could easily be mistaken for a luncheon.

Whenever Juliet watched her eat in the morning with barely concealed dismay, Rosaline would simply laugh and say that this was the only way to gather enough strength for the day.

That’s why I made sure they brought her a proper meal.

The long-serving staff in the estate knew Rosaline’s breakfast habits well, so Juliet’s instructions had been carried out smoothly.

Yet the tray returned untouched, not a single sign that Rosaline had even considered eating.

“She said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“I see. You may go now. Thank you for letting me kno—ugh…”

Juliet’s words faltered into a suppressed groan as her waist was abruptly cinched tight.

Without any explicit orders, the maids had been paying extra attention to her attire ever since their guest’s arrival. Instead of simply coiling her hair up neatly as usual, they braided it thickly and let it drape down. Instead of the light summer gowns she favored, they brought out silk dresses.

And now, they were lacing her corset even tighter than usual. Their hands were merciless.

They’re going overboard today.

That fleeting thought was soon drowned out by the excited chatter of the maids.

“My goodness. There’s no one in all of Sardinia with a waist as slender as yours, madam.”

“…”

“Are you comfortable?”

Juliet gave a slow, measured nod. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. Just… snug.

This is normal. I’ve just been living too comfortably all this time…

She was slowly getting used to it. Seeing that she had no complaints, the maids swiftly resumed their work.

Today’s dress was made of pale pumpkin-colored damask.

It was so light in color that it appeared almost white, yet wherever the fabric folded, it cast soft shadows of yellow and pink. Delicate pink ribbons adorned the sleeves in neat little clusters.

Once they had finished tying and adjusting the sleeve ribbons, they moved on to her hair.

“Just put it up neatly.”

At that, the maids’ faces fell with disappointment.

Lately, they had been having far too much fun styling Juliet’s voluminous curls. They excused themselves by saying they were practicing for the upcoming summer ball, but it was clear they simply enjoyed it.

However, today, she really did not want to let her hair down.

“It’s too hot.”

The warm air seeping in through the open window was already heavy, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

By midday, the heat would be unbearable. Even Juliet, with all her tolerance, wouldn’t be able to endure it with her thick curls left loose.

“So just put it up.”

“…Yes, ma’am.”

In the end, they compromised by intricately braiding her hair up and pinning it with several small gold hairpins. Even that took quite some time.

By the time they finished, Juliet was utterly drained.

“You should all go rest.”

She waved a weary hand from where she had slumped into an armchair. With polite bows, the maids finally exited, their chatter fading as they left—discussions about ribbons, hairpins, and colors trailing after them.

Silence quickly settled over the room. Only then did Juliet return to the thought that had been pushed aside.

…She’s unwell?

Juliet Calliari had rarely been sick since childhood. Her small, slender frame often made people assume she was fragile, but the truth was quite the opposite. It was Rosaline who had fallen ill more often.

Rosaline had always been energetic, a wild spirit known not just in Calliari but across Sardinia. Yet at least once or twice a year, she succumbed to a terrible illness.

Even then, she never skipped meals.

Much like her habit of consuming lavish breakfasts, Rosaline firmly believed that eating was the key to recovering quickly. Even when feverish, she would smile and insist on finishing her meals.

“This is strange…”

Juliet cast a glance out the window.

The sunlight outside was as dazzling as ever—blinding in its intensity.