Chapter 4

Winter had arrived, and heavy snow blanketed Baker Manor, turning it into a kingdom of ice and snow. The castle was bitterly cold, with only the fireplace rooms retaining warmth, while our servants’ quarters were as frigid as ice cellars.

No fires were allowed in the servants’ bedrooms. At night, I shivered under thick quilts, often longing for the hearth in the small parlor. My room was barely a few square meters, containing only a bed and a cabinet, with no other furnishings. As for personal belongings, they were few—a handful of clothes and a diary.

I opened the diary and wrote by the faint candlelight: “November 8th, light snow. The manor continues its cleaning in preparation for distinguished guests.” Closing the diary, I placed it by the bedside. The true worries that kept me tossing and turning were never put to paper, lingering only in my mind.

What I truly wanted to write was… he is coming soon.

The three-month mourning period had passed. The ladies of Baker Manor shed their black garments, donning exquisite silk gowns and carrying perfumed fans as they glided gracefully through the castle.

The Lloyd family spent a dull winter due to the mourning. There was no music, no balls, and they lived in seclusion, quietly waiting for the arrival of the December social season.

We male servants stood in formation, the head butler Pod with his hands behind his back, looking serious: “Baron Austin Lloyd, the nephew of the Viscount, will arrive this afternoon. We have prepared meticulously for a long time. From now on, be on your toes and make no mistakes.”

“Yes, sir!” we answered in unison.

“Today, the manor opens its main gate to welcome guests. Everyone, follow me to the entrance to greet them. Mind your appearance—if anyone disgraces Baker Manor, I won’t go easy on them.”

The male servants lined up neatly in front of the gate, with the Viscount at the forefront, followed by the ladies. I stood at a distance, stealing glances toward the gate.

Soon, a black carriage stopped at the castle gate. Two male servants stepped down, one unloading luggage, the other opening the carriage door.

A tall man cloaked in black stepped out of the carriage. The Viscount warmly greeted him with an embrace. After the carriage departed, the hosts exchanged pleasantries before heading inside, leaving the entrance empty. I stared blankly at the empty space, having only caught a distant glimpse of his back.

The biting wind chilled me to the bone. Rhodes nudged me: “What are you standing around for? Go help unload the Baron’s luggage in the backyard.”

I wanted to say it wasn’t necessary—the Baron had his personal valet and wouldn’t allow outsiders to touch his belongings. Our efforts would be in vain.

“Though he’s only a Baron, this lord is quite wealthy,” Rhodes said excitedly. “Did you see that carriage? Extremely luxurious, even the horses’ blinders were studded with sapphires. Astonishing.”

Sure enough, by the time we reached the backyard, the luggage had already been unloaded.

“Could you take us to the Baron’s room?” the Baron’s servant asked.

“Please follow us.” We led them to the guest room.

This guest room was meticulously prepared for the Baron—spacious, bright, with its own small parlor. Facing south, it was warm as spring even in winter, and the fireplace had already been lit, making it cozy. However, the Baron’s valet frowned almost imperceptibly.

This Baron was no ordinary rich man—his lifestyle was extravagantly lavish, even owning a luxurious villa in the capital. This rural place naturally paled in comparison to the bustling city. Despite our best efforts to serve, they might still see it as inadequate. “Thank you for your thorough preparations. Please leave the rest to us.” The two servants began ushering us out.

After Rhodes and I left the guest room, he grumbled, “What’s with their arrogance?” I thought to myself, they had every right to be arrogant. Their master, though not of high rank, was immensely wealthy—even a certain Duke had to borrow money from him. Of course, few at Baker Manor knew just how rich the Baron was.

When I entered the hall, Butler Pod hurried over and whispered to me, “Toker, come with me right now.” I replied, “But I still need to rush to the kitchen to deliver dishes—I’ll be late.” The butler said, “Rhodes can handle it. You come with me to the dining room.”

Hearing “dining room” surprised me, as it wasn’t a place a lowly servant like me could enter freely. The butler sighed and said, “That good-for-nothing Weston fell down the stairs and broke his leg. Of all times to cause trouble, what a disgrace. Toker, you’ll take his place—stand by for tonight’s banquet.”

“But I’ve never done the work of a senior servant,” I said hesitantly. However, the butler had already reached the main dining room door. He fixed his gaze on me and said firmly, “Once inside, be extremely careful—don’t make any mistakes. I’ll guide you from the side. Just follow my lead.”

There was no other way. I took a deep breath and followed the butler into the dining room. Inside, the long dining table was adorned with exquisite silverware, porcelain, and cutlery. The gleaming golden candelabras were filled with tall, burning white candles, illuminating the entire hall like a scene of opulence.

Aside from the baron, today’s guests included the eldest daughter Cheryl and her husband Baron Nicholson, Judge Shepherd from Hastings Court and his mistress, two female friends of the viscountess, and Lord Davis, a friend of the viscount.

From the moment I entered the dining room, I kept my gaze fixed straight ahead, knowing the butler was closely watching my every move, worried I might embarrass myself due to nervousness. At this point, he whispered to me, “Later, follow me to serve the dishes. Just stay behind me, serving from the back to the front. Remember to mimic my movements—be gentle and don’t speak.”

There were originally four senior footmen serving here, and suddenly losing one would appear very impolite, which was why the butler had no choice but to have me fill in. In my past life, I had experienced something similar. Back then, during my first time serving, I overstepped by asking the third daughter Lauren if she needed me to attend to her personally, only to be politely declined by her smile. Later, I was harshly scolded by the butler and nearly dismissed.

This time, I learned my lesson and obediently followed the butler, making sure not to utter a single unnecessary word.

At the table, the masters chatted and laughed merrily, their conversation lively. The viscount was particularly warm toward the baron, frequently engaging him in conversation filled with flattery. I noticed the second and third daughters seated on either side of the baron. The second daughter didn’t speak a word to him, while the third daughter occasionally conveyed her affection toward him.

Finally, I saw him again, but he didn’t even glance my way. He was a proud and aloof man, and if not for that incident, his gaze would likely never have fallen on a minor figure like me.

The baron’s name was Austin. He was eight years older than me, already 26 this year. His appearance was rather plain, nothing particularly striking. He didn’t wear a wig, instead sporting thick, tea-colored short hair with slightly curled ends tied into a small ponytail at the back. His eyes were also a deep tea color, with slightly downturned corners, giving him a somewhat listless and often melancholic demeanor.

Though he was tall, his posture was slightly hunched. Rumor had it he had suffered a serious illness as a child, and years of bed rest had bent his back. His voice was deep and slightly hoarse, and unless someone initiated conversation with him, he mostly remained silent.

He was just that kind of quiet, even somewhat gloomy man.

After serving the dishes, I stood by the wall, quietly awaiting further instructions. At this moment, Berry, a friend of the viscount, called me over to attend to her personally.

Berry was an extremely voluptuous lady. Today, she wore a brown silk gown with short sleeves and a low-cut neckline trimmed with white lace, clearly high-end. I thought it must have been quite a challenge for the dress to contain her ample figure. Fortunately, the corset was sturdy—otherwise, it might have led to the tragic scene of the dress bursting at the seams. Such corsets made it hard for women to breathe or even bend, often requiring others to assist them.

As I approached to pour her wine, her gaze lingered on my face. She was a widow, notorious for her flirtatiousness and her particular fondness for young men.

When I bowed to her, she giggled, covering her face while whispering to her companion beside her. Her companion also glanced at me, her eyes brimming with excitement. This only reinforced my belief that women always took a liking to me.

I recalled foolishly falling in love with the arrogant third young lady back then, that relationship was truly futile. Had I chosen to be a personal valet to some flirtatious widow at the time, perhaps I wouldn’t have ended up in such a miserable state.