Hug Me and You'll Die

12: I'm just someone motivated purely by greed and gluttony!

Before Desmia could ask Ferris for clarification regarding his cryptic words, she became aware of a susurration in a cluster of bushes behind them. At once, she dropped the tin of silver sugar plums by her feet and assumed a defensive stance. "Who's there?"

The partially concealed figure in the bushes squirmed slightly before fumbling out of his hiding place to reveal a nonthreatening and boyish face.

Ferris shuffled over to the adolescent. "Clove?" He moved to pluck a stray leaf from the boy's shirt with puzzlement. "...What...were you doing there?"

"Please forgive me for startling you, second young master, Lady Marysol. I had planned on making my presence known sooner; however, I wasn't able to find the right timing to interrupt as you seemed to be deeply engaged in discussion," explained Clove with equal parts embarrassment and guilt. "The madam sent me because she recalled that you had yet to partake in your morning meal and believed that you might've wanted to return for tea."

"So your waiting area of preference were a clustering of bushes? How oddly woodland animal-like of you," remarked Desmia sardonically. While she had a penchant for sneakily trailing other people and digging up their secrets, she despised others doing the same to her.

Clove avoided her prying eyes. "Yes, that is correct, Lady Marysol."

As a matter of fact, while the duchess was worried that Ferris would be hungry, she was also greatly curious about her youngest son's interactions with his future spouse. Thus, when she had sent Clove to the garden, she had specifically instructed that he was to spend some time secretly monitoring the two children before he was to escort them back inside.

Unfortunately for her, sending the inexperienced Clove as a spy was as good as not sending anyone at all since he had stood so far away, for fear of being discovered, that he had been unable to make out most of their conversation.

"Hm, is that the case?"

"Y-yes."

"Really? Is that all?" she drawled in a deliberate and probing manner.

"Yes, that is the truth," he stammered.

Because she couldn't sense any real malice from Clove despite his somewhat suspicious behaviour, she eventually relented. "Hmph. Well, alright then."

Harassing another family's servant, especially one that she reckoned was barely thirteen years of age, was hardly amusing to her. Just don't let me catch you a second time, kiddo. I won't always be this lenient.

She examined him critically. Actually, you should probably quit snooping altogether. I can tell that you haven't got what it takes based on this exchange alone.

Clove breathed a sigh of relief when she finally withdrew her attention from him.

He thought to himself that in contrast to her toylike size, young age, and lovely and angelic visage that couldn't even be mired by her current state of slovenliness, Lady Marysol had a way of putting a crippling amount of pressure on people—even when she was simply standing in place. It seemed that when the second young master's fiancée so desired, she had the ability to instantly make people feel both respectful and wary of her. Although it was difficult for him to be on the receiving end of it, Clove was genuinely happy that the perennially timid second young master had found such an imposing and formidable partner.

Ferris' eyes darted back and forth between the two suddenly quiet people for a few seconds before he decided to totter back over to Desmia's side and pick up the tin of silver sugar plums.

With tremendous care he brushed the dirt away from the half-opened package. After which he attempted to rearrange the torn wrapping paper in an aesthetically pleasing fashion. When he was at last satisfied with his work, he presented the package to Desmia once more. "Big sister....if you haven't eaten yet...let's go inside and have these with tea, hm?...I promise they're yummy..........they're yummy even if they're not...not lucky......."