Ian felt a chill, instinctively scooting away. The faint fragrance emanating from Ethelrina made him inexplicably nervous.
Ethelrina paused at a certain distance, no longer closing in on him.
Seeing her stop, Ian breathed a sigh of relief inwardly.
But she was still close—too close.
Feeling her presence beside him, Ian’s entire body remained tense.
He reached for the teacup in front of him, trying to ease his nerves.
Silence hung between them as they sat in the living room, no words exchanged, only the occasional sounds of the girls preparing desserts in the kitchen.
Noticing Ian’s tension, Ethelrina’s clear, melodious voice broke the quiet. “You seem awfully nervous, Ian.”
Her words made Ian’s hand tremble slightly as he touched the teacup. “Ah, probably just tired from today,” he replied.
“Is that so?” Ethelrina crossed her legs elegantly, studying him. “Are you deliberately avoiding me?”
Before Ian could respond, a loud bang echoed from the kitchen, amplifying the awkward atmosphere.
Ignoring the noise, Ian looked at Ethelrina nervously, puzzled by her question.
He forced an awkward laugh, still fidgeting with the teacup. “Why would I avoid you?”
Ethelrina didn’t press further but continued, “You keep touching that teacup. Are you thirsty?”
“Would you like some tea?”
Her question sparked a glimmer of hope in Ian. This was his chance to escape the awkwardness.
If he used brewing tea as an excuse, he could wait until Lillian and the others finished their desserts and avoid this tension altogether.
With that thought, Ian said, “I’d love some tea.”
He stood, ready to make it.
“Why don’t you ask Lillian where the tea is? It’s her villa, after all,” Ethelrina suggested, standing as well.
Ian’s heart sank at the sight of her rising. She’s not planning to brew tea with me, is she?
Before he could dwell on it, Ethelrina had already started walking. Noticing Ian wasn’t following, she turned back. “Aren’t you coming?”
Ian had no choice. He’d already said he’d make tea—backing out now wasn’t an option.
Resigned, he followed her.
Soon, they reached the kitchen doorway.
The girls inside, seeing Ian and Ethelrina side by side, shot him looks like they’d caught a sneaky cat.
Ian avoided their gazes, eager to ask Lillian where the tea was and get out.
Ethelrina approached Lillian softly. “Can we brew some tea?”
Lillian paused her work, nodding. “Of course. The tea’s in the second drawer of the living room table.”
“Thank you,” Ethelrina replied politely.
After getting Lillian’s permission, they returned to the living room and began brewing the tea.
As Ian focused on the task, Ethelrina watched his technique, finding it familiar. “Where did you learn to brew tea like this, Ian?”
Keeping his head down, Ian answered, “When I was Veronica’s steward.”
Ethelrina nodded, asking no more, and quietly began brewing her own tea.
Once they finished, Ethelrina suggested, “Why don’t we swap our teas? I’d love to taste yours.”
Ian saw no harm in it and agreed. “Sure.”
Ethelrina took the cup Ian offered, elegantly lifting it to her lips for a sip.
The moment the tea touched her tongue, she found its flavor hauntingly familiar, like the tea her childhood friend used to make.
She looked at Ian. “This is really good. Did someone teach you?”
Ian found her question odd. Is she impressed and wants to learn?
“The head maid of the Saintess Family taught me,” he said. “She’s still with them, so she can’t come to Saint Roland. If you want to learn, Lillian can help you contact her.”
Ian wasn’t about to teach Ethelrina himself—being alone with her was risky enough.
He’d rather give Lillian the chance to bond with her.
Ethelrina nodded silently, saying nothing more.
After finishing their tea, they sat on the sofa for a bit until the kitchen announced the desserts were ready.
“Sorry for the wait,” Flora said, leaning on her cane with one hand and holding a plate of delicate pandan coconut rolls in the other. The vibrant green pandan leaves wrapped around sweet, non-cloying coconut filling.
“This is a traditional elven dessert. I hope you like it.” She placed it on the table.
Sophia and Veronica followed, presenting their creations: a vivid, flame-colored red velvet cake and a soft, pink strawberry cake.
Ian’s jaw dropped at the sight of their desserts, which looked impressively well-made.
Aren’t these heroines all high-born? How are their desserts this good? he wondered.
Had they trained in dessert-making? Even Veronica? How did I not know she could bake?
Ian had misjudged their skills. Lillian’s chances were looking slim.
Finally, Lillian emerged, holding her pineapple buns with a shy, awkward expression.
The golden crust was slightly burnt in spots, the lattice pattern uneven, with crooked cracks like a beginner’s clumsy doodles.
Compared to the other heroines’ desserts, Lillian’s pineapple buns were already losing in presentation.
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