Chapter 8

In the evening, I took two books from the shelf and returned to the baron’s room. The warm fireplace cast a soft glow, while three white candles on the nightstand flickered with a dim, cold light. Austin lay quietly nestled in deep blue pillows, eyes slightly closed as if in deep slumber.

I approached quietly, intending to adjust his blanket. Just then, his eyes suddenly opened, locking onto my hand resting on his chest. Then he gave me a thoughtful look, his tone tinged with displeasure: “What are you doing?”

“I thought you were asleep, and you might catch cold without the blanket,” I replied.

The baron shook his head and said, “No need, I’m not planning to sleep yet.”

I placed a few books on the bedside table and asked, “Would you like me to read to you? These are newly brought.”

The baron suddenly said, “I told my uncle that during my stay at Baker Manor, you would be the one to take care of me.”

“Yes, the viscount has already given me the order,” I responded.

He stared at my face, frowned, and said, “What, aren’t you happy? To be my personal valet.”

“How could that be? I’m very happy.”

“But your expression tells me you’re not excited. I gave you an opportunity, yet you show no gratitude,” the baron’s tone grew colder. “If you have any dissatisfaction, you can speak up.”

I was extremely embarrassed. Did he really expect me to act overly excited? In my past life, he forced me to become his personal valet, and back then, I wore a sour expression all day long, yet he never complained.

“It’s my honor to serve you, my lord. I just… I… as a servant, must always remain serious,” I quickly came up with an excuse.

The baron finally nodded in satisfaction. “I’m bored. Find something to entertain me.”

“Then I’ll read to you.”

“Reading at night harms the eyes. Yours are so beautiful, if…” The baron paused, as if realizing he had said something inappropriate, and suddenly fell silent, pressing his lips together.

I nervously lowered my head, my gaze dropping to the foot of the bed, wondering why he would suddenly say something like “your eyes are so beautiful.” Could he be interested in me now? I remember in my past life, he only showed obvious interest in me much later at a banquet. He was drunk then, pinned me in a dark hallway, and rambled about how he liked me. I was utterly shocked at the time, thinking he had mistaken me for someone else.

“Our human eyes are treasures bestowed by God. Whether rich or poor, everyone must take good care of them,” the baron said awkwardly.

“Yes, my lord, you’re absolutely right,” I nodded agreeably.

The room fell into an uneasy silence, with only the sound of firewood burning in the fireplace. I broke the awkwardness by suggesting, “How about I play chess with you?”

“You know how to play chess?” he said arrogantly. “I didn’t expect a lowly junior valet like you to not only be literate but also know chess. What else can you do?”

“I’ve only learned chess.”

“Fine, since there’s nothing else to do,” the baron replied.

I fetched the chessboard, placed it by the baron’s bedside, and sat on a chair beside the bed to play with him. This made it somewhat far from the board, and I had to bend over for every move, which was quite strenuous.

“This isn’t convenient for playing chess. You can sit on my bed,” the baron suggested.

“That wouldn’t be proper. Breaking decorum is very rude,” I hastily declined.

“Since when do you care about being rude?” the baron said mockingly. “Who was it that climbed onto my bed without permission on the first day of taking care of me?”

My face instantly flushed red, thinking the phrase “I climbed onto his bed” was too extreme. Such words usually implied an improper relationship—how could he pin that on me? That day, he was the one who said he was cold, and I only did it out of pity…

“So stop being coy and come sit here,” the baron impatiently pointed at the bed.

I had no choice but to sit opposite him. We played chess while chatting. He seemed very interested in me, constantly asking about my life.

“So your father never returned after leaving home?” he asked.

“Yes, we sent people to look for him, but the capital is so large, finding one person is difficult. And he might already be… After so many years, we’ve given up hope.”

The baron made no comment and asked instead, “Did you attend school? Where did you learn to read?”

“I never went to school. I had someone buy books for me and taught myself.”

“Seems you have a mind of your own. Any thoughts about the future?”

“What could someone like me aspire to? My mother thinks becoming a senior footman is already quite an achievement.”

As the game unfolded on the board, my focus gradually shifted to the chess. When I snapped out of it, I realized I had actually beaten the baron.

He raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes at me: “How interesting. You’re a bold little fellow, daring to play and win against your master.”

I froze slightly and said awkwardly, “My apologies.” My chess skills were superior—in my past life, I always won against the baron, who never showed displeasure but rather enjoyed playing with me. The more I won, the happier he seemed. Yet the current situation left me scratching my head.

The baron tossed the chess piece aside and said irritably, “Enough. I need rest.” I hurriedly packed the chessboard, bowed respectfully, and said, “Good night to you, my lord. I shall take my leave.”

“Who said you could leave?” The baron’s tone turned displeased again.

“At your command,” I hastily bent over to respond. He seemed somewhat annoyed, staring at me without a word. I couldn’t fathom what had angered him—was it simply because I won a few games?

“What a foolish oaf,” the baron muttered after a long silence, turning his back to me. “Read to me. You may leave after I fall asleep.”

I couldn’t help but feel torn between laughter and tears. Just moments ago, he insisted on protecting his eyes, yet now he wanted me to read. Was this lord’s temper so mercurial? With no choice, I sat down and began reading by candlelight.

This time, I picked two poetry collections, randomly opened one, and began reciting softly. By then, I was exhausted, especially under the dim candlelight, barely registering the words floating through my mind.

“My soul and all that’s mine, I’d gladly yield to thee, but leave me just my eyes to see thee still. In me, there’s naught thou hast not conquered… Taking its life, thou tak’st its death as well. Should aught remain for me to lose, take me, but leave my eyes to see thee still.” Halfway through this long poem, I realized it was a love poem. Suppressing my embarrassment, I finished it, then found another about homesickness: “I love the wind above all else on earth. The wind howls loud, the wind moans deep, its cries and groans profound. The wind strives with all its might to preserve itself…”

After the clock struck twelve, I could no longer hold out. “My lord, are you asleep?” I called softly, but received no response—the man in bed was already fast asleep.

I yawned, quietly blew out the candle, tucked the baron in, and left his room. The moment I closed the door, the man in bed turned over. In the darkness, Austin touched his burning cheeks.

“A valet’s duties are entirely different from your previous work,” said the butler Pod, clasping his hands behind his back as he circled me. His gaze fixed on my frayed leather shoes, and he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Look at you—even beggars outside are more presentable. Mend your shoes today.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, flushing with embarrassment.

“The master asked me to train you, but you’ve already begun serving the baron, so training seems too late. Just remember your few key duties,” the butler continued.

“First, you are responsible for the baron’s attire. All items on his person must be prepared by you. Helping the baron present himself respectably when meeting others is your primary duty. Second, as a valet, you must accompany and attend to the baron at all times when he goes out, fulfilling all his needs and carrying his luggage. Third, you must take care of every detail of the baron’s daily life, such as bathing, dressing, sleeping, waking up, reading newspapers, drinking coffee, having snacks, and so on. Everything must be handled by you personally.”

The butler concluded, “These tasks are very important and shouldn’t have been entrusted to a novice like you, but this is also your opportunity. If you perform well, I will remind the master to give you a raise.”

Pod patted my shoulder and said, “Serve the baron well, and he might become the master of Baker Manor. If you truly become his valet, you’ll rise to prominence in no time.”

I neither agreed nor disagreed, nodding vaguely. Continue as the baron’s valet? Of course not. I would stay at Baker Manor because there were still things to accomplish. Staying by the baron’s side any longer might bring him misfortune.

The baron had fully recovered. After his illness, instead of rushing to leave the manor as before, he settled in comfortably, often hosting gatherings with guests and occasionally visiting nearby gentry.

Viscount Lloyd and his wife were the happiest about this. The viscountess privately remarked to the viscount, “We took care of him when he was ill, so he’s grateful to us. Lauren visited him daily despite his contagious disease. He must have been moved by our youngest daughter, which is why he stayed.”

Viscount Lloyd, however, was not as optimistic as his wife. Frowning, he said, “I hope so, but Lauren mentioned he hasn’t shown much interest in her.”

“Perhaps he’s too reserved. Your nephew is always so aloof. Maybe we should host a ball.”