Looking back, she was a remarkably rational person. While she valued harmony and trust between men and women, she did not overly rely on the power of love. During our conversation in the forest, she clearly stated that a marriage without the right conditions would never bring happiness.

She must have rejected me from the start, conscious of her dowry or parental issues.

From his perspective, it was incomprehensible. Why should that be a problem? Even if she had no dowry, he already had plenty of money. He was earning more than enough through estate revenues and business ventures without needing to attract money through marriage.

The parental issue was the same. Whether she was a commoner or how her parents came together was none of his concern. Was she worried about the surrounding whispers? Afraid of damaging my reputation? But he was already not well-spoken of due to his own personality.

Everyone who needed to know was aware that Ian Dalton, the landlord of Whitefield, was an impolite and difficult man. What great impact would it have to add a wife with commoner blood to that?

He imagined pouring out these thoughts to her, trying to persuade her. She would surely listen to his story calmly. If he spoke ill of himself, she would shake her head, and if he made reasonable arguments, she would nod.

As always, she would fix her serious gray eyes on him and understand his thoughts one by one. With the seriousness and intelligence he loved most among Miss Pendleton’s virtues.

But in the end, if he were to attempt his failed proposal again, she would…

She would shake her head.

‘Damn it.’

He took another deep drag of smoke to soothe his burning feelings.

Despite her warm heart, she was a person faithful to her principles. No matter how much he persuaded, pleaded, and eventually lost his temper in his typical fashion, she wouldn’t bat an eye. Indecisiveness did not exist in her. Her thoughts were an even greater obstacle than her emotions.

But he couldn’t give up on her either. In his thirty years of life, this was the first time he had felt the desire to marry someone.

If he lost her, he would probably never feel this way again. Then he would become the unmarried man without an heir that those around him so feared. He had little desire for an heir, so he had no intention of forcibly marrying an unwanted woman just to have children.

He thought as he stubbed out his cigarette.

Laura Pendleton. I must bring her to my estate. By any means necessary. Yes, I should finish my business in Whitefield as soon as possible, find a trustworthy land agent, and return to London.

I need to find someone reliable. I won’t come back until I’ve persuaded her. If I go to London this time, I will definitely return to Whitefield with her. If persuasion doesn’t work, I’ll cling to her, and if that fails, I’ll threaten to kill myself. She’s a kind person, so she’ll have to marry me, if only to save my life.

‘I should find my long-unused pistol by the time I find a land agent.’

He thought quite seriously about this. Though his head knew he was acting like a stubborn boy, his heart was blind, proving he had fallen in love for the first time. And he was a man led by his heart rather than his head.

He spent the evening pondering how to fully unleash the temper he had so carefully hidden until now.

* * *

Ian Dalton’s daily routine after returning from London was ordinary. He reviewed documents all morning and received tenant farmers or lawyers in the afternoon. Sometimes he visited the parsonage for tea with the young pastor and his wife, or went out to dine at the invitation of farm owners.

Ramswick, who faithfully assisted Ian, thought his daily life was the same as before he left. On the surface, that is.

His handling of work and behavior towards others remained unchanged. Perhaps no other servant would have noticed his change.

But Ramswick, who had been the butler of Whitefield Hall since Ian was a baby wiggling his fingers at the mobile in his cradle, could quickly sense that something different had occurred within him.

A floating atmosphere. A sunken gaze lost in thought.

Ramswick began to worry if something was troubling his beloved young master, now his dependable master. At night, lying in his bedroom barely larger than his own body, he would toss and turn, worried about young master Ian, no, Master Ian, even with his eyes closed.

On the fourth day after Ian’s return, Ramswick knocked on the study door to get approval for the mansion’s management expenses and servant salary statements for the past month. But there was no answer. He opened the door, thinking the master might be out. Ian was sitting by the window, with his sketchbook, which he always carried, resting on his knee.

Ramswick called out to Ian, but he didn’t notice. He seemed lost in thought, staring out the window. Ramswick considered just leaving the documents, but there was a pension issue for retiring servants that needed quick approval, so he had no choice but to approach him.

He went to Ian’s side and called him. Only then did Ian turn his head towards Ramswick. He didn’t seem to have noticed him enter the study at all. Ramswick held out the documents with an apologetic expression. Ian nodded and took the papers, beginning to review them.

Meanwhile, Ramswick looked at his master’s face. He appeared tired, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few days. His worry grew. But Ian, unaware of Ramswick’s concern, just kept looking at the documents.

He silently held out his hand to Ramswick, who promptly took out a pen from his jacket’s inner pocket and handed it to him. Ian lightly signed the documents and returned them.

“Make sure to properly provide the retirement funds.”

“Don’t worry, sir.”

He took the documents and bowed his head to withdraw. But as his gaze tilted, he saw the sketchbook open on his master’s lap. The portrait of a beautiful lady was drawn on the paper.

Realizing he had acted improperly, he quickly averted his eyes from the sketchbook. Fortunately, Ian, having finished the task, had turned back to the window, lost in thought, and didn’t seem to notice Ramswick had seen his sketchbook.

Ramswick quickly left the study. After closing the door, a faint smile spread across his impassive face. He had discerned the source of his master’s contemplation. It was lovesickness.

All day long, Ramswick went about his duties with his usual stern expression. But in his heart, he was humming a tune. It seemed the young master, no, the master, who had shown no interest in marriage, had found a woman worthy of being his companion in London.

To think that the master’s destined partner, who had cut himself off from Yorkshire society, was in London. He chuckled, finally understanding why Ian, who had promised to return in ten days, had lingered in London for over a month. Our young master is now in love. Ho ho.

After that, he continued to observe Ian while pretending not to. He handled his affairs calmly as usual, but whenever schedules stretched out, he couldn’t hide his impatience and urged Ramswick. The cigarette case that was usually full emptied faster than usual, and in the evenings after work, he often sat in front of the fireplace, staring intently at the portrait of the lady in his sketchbook.

Ramswick realized he was trying to finish his work quickly to return to London. He wholeheartedly helped to process tasks quickly to match his master’s intentions.

Although his work would double and even that wouldn’t run smoothly without the master, he earnestly hoped that the master would bring back the beautiful lady from the sketchbook as the mistress of the house from London.

As a truly loyal butler, he only wished for the prosperity of Whitefield, his lifelong workplace, and he keenly felt that a mistress was needed for that. If Ian had no son, the succession rights to Whitefield would pass to a relative.

As a result of his efforts, within a week of Ian’s arrival at Whitefield, all the important matters that had piled up during his absence were dealt with. Taking a breather, Ian immediately instructed Ramswick.

“I need to visit my sister at Dunville Park. Prepare the horse.”

“Yes, sir.”

Soon, Ian’s favorite sleek black horse stood in the yard, saddled. Ian mounted the horse, dressed in a neat dark brown riding outfit. Holding the reins with his leather-gloved hands, he spoke to Ramswick, who stood to see him off.

“I’m sorry to say this to you, but I’ll have to go back to London in a few days. I don’t know how long I’ll stay, but it will probably be longer than last time. Find a land agent to manage Whitefield during that time.”

“You’re not entrusting it to Mr. Robert Fairfax this time?”

Ian nodded with a stiff jaw. Ramswick bowed his head.

“I’ll place a newspaper advertisement immediately.”

Ian lightly tapped the horse’s side. The well-trained horse carried its master out of Whitefield’s garden. Ramswick watched Ian’s retreating figure as he left Whitefield. His face was full of joy.

Now our young master is going to bring home a mistress.

He suppressed the tune he was about to hum as he entered the mansion.

* * *

Dunville Park was close enough to reach in less than an hour if one rode quickly without resting the horse. It was such a familiar route to Ian that he could ride there with his eyes closed. It was a place he had consistently visited since childhood.

At first, it was to play cards with William, and from the age of eight, to see Henry lying in his cradle. Now it was to check on his sick sister and his mischievous nephews.

After galloping through fields abundant with heather and rocks for a while, he soon entered the vast hunting grounds surrounding Dunville Park. This was also where his brother-in-law spent more time than at home. People with urgent business for him would search the hunting grounds first to find him.

As Ian was passing slowly through the hunting grounds to let his horse rest after the long ride, he heard a gunshot in the distance. He thought nonchalantly, ‘As expected, my brother-in-law is hunting today.’ But then, loud shouts from young boys followed from the same direction as the gunshot.