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32.
Places that would care for a ‌child without any ‌‌‌compensation were few and far between.
Jack, who had spent countless days alone at home while Margaret worked, had grown so emotionally unstable that he suffered from sleepwalking.
But ever ‌‌‌‌since arriving here, Jack had visibly brightened.
Gloria, who had once been a governess in some noble household, even provided the children with basic education.
For Jack's sake, she could not leave this place—not even if it meant concealing her own name.
"Hurry, Margaret! We've got a bulk order today!"
The moment Margaret opened the bakery door, Bern shouted loudly while kneading dough.
Margaret hastily tied on her apron and rushed into the kitchen.
Sweat poured down her face in the scorching heat of the oven.
She was doing work she could never have imagined during her days as a baron's daughter, yet Margaret found joy in it.
Bread was honest. It cared nothing for the baker's wealth or family background.
If one poured in care, measured out the ingredients precisely, and baked them at the right time, the results were always excellent.
Her wrists ached occasionally, but it was bearable. When customers praised the taste, the pain would fade ‌‌in an instant.
This morning at the bakery had been chaotic as well.
It wasn't until well past noon that Margaret finally managed to sit in the ‌small chair by the counter and wipe the beads of sweat from her forehead.
"You've worked hard. Here's lunch! A special sandwich my wife packed!"
"Ah, thank you so much."
Bern suddenly thrust a sandwich as thick as a forearm from the kitchen.
Bern always clicked his tongue, saying Margaret was far too thin for baking work.
Yet while he fussed over her like that, he made sure to provide her with generous meals at lunch and dinner every single day.
Sometimes he even wrapped up leftover bread for the orphanage family.
Margaret gazed at the thick ham and fresh vegetables nestled between the bread slices.
The savory aroma of the bread awakened an appetite she didn't know she had.
Just as she was about to take a bite, the shop door opened with a clear, tinkling bell chime.
Of ‌‌‌all times....
But Margaret did not complain. Instead, she rose with a full smile on her lips.
"Welcome...."
Bright afternoon sunlight poured in behind the customer's silhouette.
Margaret's eyes widened.
There was something familiar about this person. Despite the disguise, Margaret recognized the customer's identity in an instant.
A face identical to that person she had dreamed of ‌‌killing.
Rebecca Devonshire.
"Hello, Margaret."
Rebecca removed her bonnet and held it in her hand as she spoke.
Her gaze turned toward the sandwich resting on the counter.
"If you haven't finished your lunch yet, would you care to join me?"
"I, that is...."
As Margaret hesitated, Bern quickly pushed open the kitchen door and rushed out.
"Of course! There are chairs and a table out back—that would be perfect for eating!"
"What? But Bern...."
"Margaret, isn't this the first time your friend has come to visit? We must treat her with the utmost hospitality! No need to be modest!"
Bern winked at her. He seemed to have thoroughly misunderstood the situation.
But with Bern eagerly ushering them along, ‌‌‌‌Margaret found herself drawn by his hand toward the back garden.
"What a charming and lovely place this is."
Margaret hesitated, uncertain whether to take Rebecca's words as genuine praise or veiled sarcasm.
Nobles rarely revealed their true intentions so openly.
Margaret glanced sideways at Rebecca, who was examining the table that Bern's wife had supposedly made herself. ‌
She didn't appear to be concealing any sinister motives.
Rather, she seemed to be admiring it with genuine wonder.
Watching the subtle smile spreading across her face, Margaret ‌‌‌‌spoke with a voice full of displeasure.
"Rebecca, I don't know why you've sought me out, but this is clearly my workplace. It's troublesome for you to ‌‌show up unannounced ‌‌like this.
"Ah, I apologize. There was no other way to escape the estate. And I thought if I arranged a meeting beforehand, you wouldn't agree to see me."
Rebecca studied Margaret's rigid expression.
She had anticipated this cold reception, but experiencing it directly still felt ‌‌‌‌somewhat melancholy.
Yet she couldn't help but understand.
Thanks to Kanna, Rebecca had learned of Margaret's past—something she hadn't known even in her previous ‌‌‌life.
Margaret Bennett's past had been torn apart by Zeppelin's twisted greed.
The statue of the Defria goddess in the Hall of Light at the Devonshire Estate was, in fact, a family heirloom passed down through Margaret's lineage.
Zeppelin, having recognized the statue's value early on, had attempted to purchase it for a substantial sum, but Baron Gidian, her father, refused to part with the heirloom.
Baron ‌‌‌Gidian was a man who cherished simple happiness.
He was someone who harbored no great ambitions as long as he had enough wealth to sustain his modest family.
But unlike him, ‌‌Zeppelin was ‌‌‌‌a man who had to possess whatever he desired.
He always found ways to satisfy his endless cravings.
Baron Gidian had underestimated Zeppelin's hunger, and this miscalculation led directly to tragedy.
Zeppelin's hounds set fire to ‌‌‌Baron Gidian's estate under the cover of a quiet night.
The massive flames consumed the peaceful existence of the Gidian family.
Among all the members of the Gidian ‌‌‌household, only one survived the cruel inferno—Margaret, their only daughter, ‌‌who ‌‌had become a widow just a week prior.
Her husband, Radburn Bennett, had been an orphan from childhood.
Thus, having lost her husband to the accident, Margaret was left with only her family of origin.
Zeppelin had taken everything from her.
Margaret, pregnant and desperate, had exhausted every avenue to save ‌her crumbling household.
But there was little a woman raised in such privilege could accomplish.
In the end, the entire family fortune, including the goddess statue, was put up for auction.
And Zeppelin, as if he had been waiting all along, successfully bid on the statue.
When Zeppelin came to examine the statue, Margaret rushed at him in fury.
'It was you! You did this! You killed our father for that wretched sculpture?'
'Ha! How absurd. You accuse me without a shred of evidence—quite bold of you. The tragedy that befell your household is regrettable, but have you never ‌‌‌‌considered that it was your own failure to manage it? If you're so aggrieved, why not run to the Temple? Who knows—perhaps the goddess will take pity and bestow her benevolent fortune upon you.'
Zeppelin shoved Margaret aside as callously as one would crush a crawling insect.
Margaret had never forgotten the cold gleam in his eyes at that moment. ‌
Margaret stared coldly at Rebecca, her mind ‌dredging up old memories that surfaced unbidden.
She knew well enough that Rebecca was different from Zeppelin. She understood that Rebecca was the benefactor who had saved Liberta's family.
Yet whenever she gazed upon ‌‌‌‌Rebecca's face—so reminiscent of Zeppelin—a surge of resentment threatened to overwhelm her.
Rebecca shared a home with that shameless wretch, that lowest of men.
And so Margaret despised Rebecca just as much as she despised Zeppelin.
Sitting across from Rebecca in this moment felt as though she were perched upon a ‌‌‌‌bed of thorns.
Suddenly, anger flared within her.
She had barely recovered, and now Devonshire had come to torment her once more.
Margaret's fingers clenched tightly around the fabric of her skirt.
She longed to escape this place and return to ‌‌the sanctity of honest labor.
Rebecca took a ‌‌‌small bite from the sandwich placed before her.
"Mmm, the bread is truly ‌delicious. ‌‌‌Did Margaret make this as well?"
Rebecca smiled with infuriating innocence, as though she knew nothing at all.
"Would you mind getting to the point? We're hardly the sort of people who should be engaging in such pleasantries, are we?"
The chill in her own voice startled Margaret. Regardless, she ‌‌was in a position where she had to defer to Rebecca.
A single word from ‌‌‌‌Rebecca to Zeppelin could see both ‌‌‌her and Jack vanish without a trace.
Yet the fury Margaret harbored toward Devonshire would not be so easily dispelled by such concerns.
Her father dying in the flames, her life stolen in an instant....
Margaret's body trembled each time Rebecca's blue eyes blinked.
Rebecca ‌did not waver, her smile remaining fixed as she spoke despite Margaret's hostile demeanor.
"I understand ‌‌perfectly why you despise me. It's because of Zeppelin, isn't it?"
Margaret said nothing, lowering her gaze as she fidgeted with the cup of cold ‌‌water. She hoped the chill of the ice might ‌‌bury her anger within it.
Rebecca watched the moisture gathering on Margaret's hands. The fingers gripping the cup trembled visibly.
A sharp pang pierced Rebecca's chest.
She wished to kneel and ‌‌plead on Zeppelin's behalf, but she quieted the turbulent emotions within her.
"As for what ‌‌‌befell Margaret's family...I scarcely know what to say. I understand it is something that cannot be compensated by any means."
"Then you've come to ‌‌apologize?"
"Hardly. That was Zeppelin's doing. Strictly speaking, I barely knew of your ‌‌existence at the time. But insofar as Zeppelin and I are husband and wife, you will hate me equally, won't you?"
"Yes. You understand well. You may think me shameless, taking refuge in an orphanage as I do, but I assure you—during my time there, I have never accepted a single piece of cheese for free. Each month, I donate to the orphanage an amount equal to the rent. Every month."
"Please, calm yourself, Margaret. I haven't come to dispute your hatred of me. It's an unreasonable request, I know, but might you see me not as Rebecca Devonshire, but simply as Rebecca? I've come to offer you employment."
"Employment...?"
"Yes. Not that you'd begin immediately. It would be several months from ‌‌now. ‌‌‌I'm considering starting a business, and I'd like you to become its pastry chef."
Margaret's eyes widened in surprise.
"But I'm merely a neighborhood baker. I don't know how to make the sort of refined desserts ‌‌‌that nobles enjoy."
"One can learn such things. If you accept my proposal, I'll ensure you receive sufficient training. I believe you'll pick it up quickly."
Margaret's ‌‌icy expression wavered ‌‌‌‌‌‌‌for a moment.
Rebecca continued.
"Ah, ‌‌and the compensation—you'll receive half of all profits. It's a sort of ‌partnership I'm proposing. You deserve as ‌‌‌much."
"I beg your ‌‌pardon?"
Margaret nearly overturned ‌‌‌‌her teacup.
Half of the profits.
With that money, I could reclaim the lost title and send Jack to a prestigious academy....
As I imagined Jack's future, a mother's greed stirred within me for a moment.
But Margaret caught herself. No matter how tempting the money, she could not become a business partner with Zeppelin.
Rebecca, reading Margaret's hesitation, offered a gentle ‌‌‌‌smile.
"Your uncertainty is only natural. ‌‌‌To clarify, this venture has nothing to do with the Earl of Devonshire. Zeppelin doesn't even know I'm planning this business. That's why I've slipped away dressed like this. I wish I could tell you more, but for now, I can only say that a kind-hearted investor has been helping me."
"But I still don't understand why you're making such a proposal to me. ‌‌‌‌There are plenty of skilled pastry chefs around. And it's not as though you and I share any special relationship, is it?"
No. Rebecca knew Margaret well.
It ‌was Margaret who had secured work for her during her darkest hour, and it was Margaret who had cared for Rebecca during her postpartum recovery when she could not return to her family home.
The Runaway Countess Returns
E-book Publication

January 12, 2022
Author
‌‌‌
Gin Bamhaneul
Publisher

Desert Fox
Published by
‌‌‌‌
Woongjin ThinkBig Co., Ltd.
Submission Contact

naver.me/54VzzLSn
Blog

blog.naver.com/wj_fennecfox
Twitter

@wjt_fennecfox

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