Chapter 17 #2
“The servants whisper that your sister has less than a month left until the government’s expected betrothal date. With such pressure, I’m sure there’s a growing desperation to secure her a suitable match.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Haewon said, but didn’t sound very convincing even to her own ears.
“Allow me to deliver it.” He held out his hand. She stared at it. Those were not the hands of a boy or a frail scholar. They were the hands of a man well-versed in wielding a bow. “Mistress Haewon?”
She remained still, reluctant to deliver the letter into the clutches of the antagonist. For that was who he was. A man who might attempt to intervene in her sister’s love story before even giving it a chance to blossom.
“I didn’t mean to overhear, earlier,” she said slowly. “Forgive my boldness, but is it true that the young master is fond of my sister?”
“It is true, though it makes no difference how he feels.”
She understood his meaning; men of his station had no care for silly things like feelings and romantic love. Yet she was determined to allow Jade the opportunity to choose—to choose her groom, to choose how she wished to live her life.
“Do you believe in destiny?” she asked.
Lord Yu studied her, attentive and calm. “I’ve read the four famous essays that were directed to the notion of destiny,” he replied. “‘On the Destiny of Kings’ by Ban Biao, ‘On Fortune and Destiny’ by Li Kang—”
“‘On Doubtless Destiny’ by Gu Jizhi and Gu Yuan, and ‘On the Argument About Destiny’ by Liu Jun,” Haewon listed the rest, a little impatiently. “Yes, nauri, I have read those, too. So, do you believe in it?”
His large hand rested on the door of the gate, pushing it open just enough that they were no longer exchanging words through a crack. He took another step forward, leaned against the wooden frame, now only two paces away from her.
“I believe in fate,” he said at last. “I was raised to understand that a gentleman bears his fate and follows it obediently.”
“To bear fate,” she said contemplatively. “I by far prefer the notion of destiny, for I am going to choose mine. And I hope my sister will, too, without anyone standing in her way.”
“A young lady wishing to choose her destiny,” he murmured. “Spoken precisely like a lady who has read too many novels, especially tales from two centuries ago.”
Two centuries ago, women had much more freedom.
Four centuries ago, women had rights. They could freely mingle with men, have their own possessions, and inherit land.
She knew he was silently judging her, and for some reason, she couldn’t level her gaze at him.
Vulnerability chafed at her as she glared at the gleaming silk of his robe.
“I’m convinced,” she said, unable to hide the rawness in her voice, “that to live without a will is to deny the bird the sky, the flowers the sun. I was born with a will. Mayn’t I use it? ”
A long, peculiar silence fell.
When she dared to glance up, her breath hitched in her throat.
The rims of his eyes were red, his brows deeply furrowed. “To deny the bird the sky…” his voice rasped. For a moment he looked like such a bird. Looking for the sky. And he was staring at her, like she was the sky.
No, she was certainly imagining it. He couldn’t possibly have feelings for her, as Young Master Byeongho had joked.
Lord Yu was a gentleman who had witnessed the failings of her family and showed no signs of forgetting it.
A gentleman so proud of his Confucian education and morality.
A perfect gentleman.
A perfect gentleman destined to marry a perfect wife and sire a perfect brood of dull, perfect children.
A gentleman whose world existed far, far above hers.
She nervously wrung her hands, then said lightheartedly, “The night is late. We had better both retire—”
“Give me the letter,” he said, a bare whisper. “I promise, upon my honor, that I will deliver it intact, even if I do disapprove. I would rather you go and care for your sister.”
“So you do disapprove.”
“Marriage is a union between families. What the individual heart desires is of no importance.”
“I just want one of us to be happy,” Haewon blurted, her eyes locked with his.
An unexpected burning stung her, like a long-buried hope that this man somehow drew to the surface.
“And that person has to be Jade. I could be arranged in marriage to anyone, even a stranger I can barely tolerate. I have other things to bring me joy, and I make friends easily. But Jade—she keeps to herself. She raised us all, always denying herself her own needs and happiness. I am her only friend. I want her to be happy. Is that so improper?”
“Mistress Haewon,” he said, with a tenderness that seemed so unlike him, “I give you my word. I will not open it. I shan’t intervene. It wouldn’t be my place to do so. Not when I, too…” He didn’t finish. “I promise I will not intervene.”
She swallowed. There was no other way to pass on the letter at this point. If she waited any longer, it might be too late. With Jade out of sight, the young master might forget her entirely.
“Then please, deliver the letter and leave the rest to fate,” Haewon pressed. “If your friend’s heart leads him to my sister, let it be. Let things unfold as they will. And if this so troubles you, simply deliver the letter and then forget my sister. Forget me, too.”
She faltered, then at last proffered the letter to him.
She waited for him to take it, but his dark eyes roamed over her face, his brows drawing together as though he was conflicted by some thought or memory.
Then something shifted in his gaze, a look of certainty taking root.
At last he reached out, but it was not the letter he grasped for; his long fingers folded around her hand instead.
Her heart leapt. A jolt of shock spiraled up along her arm, through her entire body, and she suddenly felt as though she were falling through open air, and it was difficult to breathe. Impossible to move. She could think of nothing but his hand, the warmth of his palm melting into her.
“I won’t trouble myself over Byeongho’s love life.” His voice was soft. With his other hand, he took the letter from her. “But I have no intention of forgetting you.”
A beat passed, then another. He was still holding her, and her heart was still spinning, her cheeks on fire—
“Haewon agasshi!” Maid Boram’s voice called out. “Agasshi? Where did you go?”
Startled, she wrenched her hand from his. She turned sharply and hurried across the dark courtyard, trying not to imagine what Lord Yu’s meaning could have been. She held Boram by the elbow, rushed into the room, then slid the door shut a little too hard.
“Agasshi.” Boram frowned. “Why are your cheeks so red?”
Jade craned her head from where she sat on the bed mat. “Where did you go?”
Haewon made a reply, she wasn’t sure what, and then she was pacing the room, her emotions a storm inside her. She paced while staring down at her hand. The warmth of him still lingered on her skin, like the faintest burn.
Why had he held her hand?
Why would he do such a thing?
She hesitated, then moved to the window, cracking it open just enough to look outside. The gate was closed again, as if it had never been open.
As if it had all been a figment of her imagination.