Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 109: Expecting Hound And Disappointment.

Chapter 109: Expecting Hound And Disappointment.

Backside, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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"Yes, Sir... Hound" she corrected herself quickly as she recalled his curt response to the name the last time.

He stood tall and proud as he asked. "Who came earlier?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You knew?"

He continued to wait for his answer, not responding to hers, his green eyes unnerving.

"It was the courier, he came to deliver the muckrake" she relented.

He nodded. "Who ordered for it?"

"He claimed it was sir Conan and he also brought the knight’s copy" she replied.

He cleared his throat before wishing her. "Have a nice evening" and he was gone just like how he came.

"Thank you" she responded breathlessly.

Joyous appeared by her side.

Dorothy sighed. "Is he not so beautiful yet bleak?"

Joyous raised a brow. "Dorothy?"

"Yes? Joyous you see it too?" she said, her face flushed.

Joyous scoffed. "Yes, your heart breaking apart I do" she retorted.

"Do not be like that he gives off so much dangerous energy.

"And you should steer away" Joyous warned,

"I know I can’t be with someone who shall make me fear the day I stain his dressing" she confessed and they both laughed while Dorothy turned back and they started to walk for the Kitchen door.

"Where were you going to?"

At Joyous’s question, Dorothy shrugged. "I was just strolling"

"I see, let us make dinner now" Joyous invited.

Dorothy wondered out loud. "Is it not early for dinner preparations?"

Joyous shook her head as she explained. "I want us to make a feast for the lady, perhaps then she shall eat"

Lydia’s appetite had taken a dive for the waters for days now and they were not comfortable with it, what if the lord came back and his wife is then only skin and bones?

They shuddered at the thought.

"Do you think something is happening with the lady?" Joyous brought up.

Cluelessly Dorothy asked. "Lady Theodore?"

"Yes, Dorothy our lady" Joyous deadpanned.

Dorothy smoothened her hair. "I think she is fine maybe just the weather affecting her and also she is missing her husband" she commented.

"That is so cute" Joyous fawned, her girly side showing for a brief moment.

Dorothy glanced at her. "I know" and they continued their giggle all the way inside the kitchen

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Late Afternoon.

Kitchen, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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Dorothy and Joyous turned their attention to the task of preparing dinner for their Lady and her mood because of the absent Lord of the house.

They bustled around the kitchen, the warm glow of the hearth casting flickering shadows across their faces as they chopped vegetables and stirred pots on the stove.

The aroma of roasting meat and savoury herbs filled the air, mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread to create an enticing bouquet that wafted through the mansion.

Despite the demands of their work, the maids hummed softly to themselves, finding joy in the simple pleasures of their daily routine.

They continued sometimes with gists, Talking about the book they had just read with the lady and how they would love to do that again. ’We cannot push our luck’ Dorothy had said to which Joyous agreed.

As the evening wore on, Dorothy and Joyous laid the table with care, arranging polished silverware and fine china in anticipation of their mistress’s arrival.

The flickering candlelight cast a soft glow over the room, lending an air of intimacy to the scene as the maids stood back to admire their handiwork.

Lady Theodore would love this they thought.

As the final touches were put in place, both the maids stepped back, their faces glowing with pride at a job well done.

In the warmth of the kitchen, surrounded by the comforting hum of activity, they knew that they had succeeded in creating a haven of domestic tranquillity for their beloved Lady in the heart of the dark mansion.

If this doesn’t lift her mood, then they will need to write to lord Theodore.

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Late Afternoon.

Bedroom, Statham estate.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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In the fading light of the late afternoon, Shi’Enz stood by the window of her second-floor room on the balcony, her gaze fixed longingly beyond the sprawling estate below, she gazed at the woods.

She is clothed in a flowing gown of delicate lace and satin, she appeared every bit the epitome of Critic-Ishire elegance, her hair was carefully coiffed and adorned with a single ribbon.

As she waited for someone to show up, her fingers gently traced the intricate patterns of the lace curtains, her heart pounding in anticipation of her Hound’s arrival.

He had not said he would come but she had a feeling would come but she simply wanted to see him.

Outside, the manicured gardens stretched out before her, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the setting sun.

The distant sound of footsteps in the house mingled with the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze outside, was creating a serene backdrop to her restless thoughts.

With each passing moment, her longing grew more acute, a mixture of hope and uncertainty knotting in the pit of her stomach.

She had dressed herself meticulously, her appearance a testament to the depth of her desire to be seen and desired by him but perhaps he never intended to come she thought.

He had looked as though he would fight the Statham guards for her earlier before letting her go so she us surprised he hadn’t come to check on her.

As she stood there, bathed in the warm light of the fading day, she couldn’t help but imagine the moment when he would finally appear, striding across the manicured lawn with purpose and determination, with his body that made her wish he couldn’t stand without her in his arms.

Her heart fluttered at the thought, her breath catching in her throat as she envisioned the tender embrace that awaited them, he always smelled nice and looked untouchable but he let her touch him and he looked at her as though he found it hard to believe she was there.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, a sense of unease began to settle over her like a heavy shroud.

Doubt crept into her mind, whispering cruel reminders of past disappointments and dashed hopes. Those disappointments might have been from her family and not Hound but she started to doubt.

Yet, she remained steadfast in her vigil, her gaze never wavering from the horizon as she clung to the fragile thread of hope that kept her tethered to the promise of his presence.

He had told her that if she did not come to him, he would come to her.

And so she waited, her heart suspended between anticipation and despair, her spirit buoyed by the fleeting moments of beauty that surrounded her in the waning light of the Critic Arley evening.

Maybe in a week, he shall come when he realized she would not be able to come and collect her cookies from him.