Shifting her gaze up, Byletta’s eyes were met with the emerald green of her husband’s looking down upon her. He kissed her.
It was the lightest of gestures, almost like a peck.
“I’ll still be there. Till tomorrow, then.”
Arnald casually sauntered back out of the room, leaving a flushed Byletta sitting alone and trembling.
This was the same selfish man who’d returned as she slept, only to propose a strange wager and help himself to a wedding night. The same insufferable man who wanted to quibble over everything and clip her wings. And…the same man who’d spent their next night enjoying her so gently, only to vanish for a while and then suddenly turn up in her room again before leaving with nothing but a kiss.
It wasn’t that she wanted to sleep with him. She just wanted to win their bet. And thankfully, the less they made love, the better her chances. So…why did she feel so frustrated?
Had he begun to lose interest now that he’d had her twice?
Her husband had much more experience with the opposite sex than she. Byletta could just tell. He was skillful and composed, whereas she was an unpracticed twenty-four-year-old, left at a disadvantage due to her—up till recently—virginal state.
She didn’t care how Arnald had learned his tricks. At least, she shouldn’t care. Yet, for some reason, she found herself feeling a bit sad. Maybe it was because the thought of being trifled with made her balk. Or maybe it was because she couldn’t stand to think that she would never be more than a plaything to him.
She hated the feeling that Arnald had all the control.
So why was she lamenting that he seemed to have grown tired of her body? There was no need!
Or at least that was what Byletta desperately tried to convince herself as she slammed a fist down onto a pile of paperwork.
Byletta departed the manor house the next day after breakfast to go and inspect some more nearby villages. As both the count and Arnald were now accompanying her, the atmosphere within the carriage was heavy despite the cheerful weather outside.
They traveled along gravel paths that made the carriage rattle, ramping up the discomfort within. But, in a way, Byletta was grateful for that, as it meant no one was in the mood to talk.
As they surveyed several villages, Byletta realized that a part of the region under the count’s management was experiencing issues with flood damage. The costs associated with these damages had been documented over several years, but when she had casually asked Count Swangan about it, the situation became clear. The area had suffered from flooding for a long time, but he hadn’t thought of any way to alleviate it.
There was nothing else for it. Byletta had everyone halt their inspections and stop by a place where they could look out over a nearby lake.
She wasn’t just blindly adding more things to their inspection schedule to chase away thoughts of her husband’s past indiscretions—or that’s what she kept telling herself. But despite that, she couldn’t seem to stop coming up with more things to do in an effort to keep her brain occupied and rid herself of the shame she felt.
But she was supposed to be focusing on the estate, anyway.
As Byletta explained what they were doing, the count stared at her with a dubious expression, but she knew that once she started fully illustrating to him what she meant, his feelings would likely change.
“Did you have a reason for bringing us here?”
“When the river floods, the crops become submerged and the grain harvest dwindles. The floodwater also deposits dead fish and other animal carcasses, which can cause disease. You don’t want your tenants to die from sickness on top of a bad crop, do you? Don’t you think we should do something about it?”
After listening to Byletta talk about the extent of the damage flooding could do, a grumbling Count Swangan stared open-mouthed at the lake before him.
“So what would you have me do?” he asked.
Now that he understood the importance of maintaining the lake, his cantankerous attitude all but disappeared.
From there on, her father-in-law dragged her around, requesting she come up with various improvement plans. He was finally starting to act like a lord. Still, she wished she could just tell him to do it himself or hire an expert.
But, alas, he was motivated now, and doing anything to ruin his momentum would only be detrimental to the people who called the estate home.
“I know that you have a penchant for avoiding these kinds of things, Father, but this time you’ll participate, won’t you? As a kindness to your oh-so-helpful daughter-in-law? I think we should build a canal here and extend it all the way up to that village there. That should somewhat reduce the flood damage caused by rain and mud.”
The tranquil village situated near the lake was always deluged whenever there was a long period of heavy rain.
The rainwater easily exceeded the volume that the lake could handle, and all the excess would flow toward the village. That meant they needed to redirect it somewhere, but doing so would prevent the overflowing water from introducing nutrient-rich soil as well as disease. That was why it was so crucial for them to come up with the right plan.
In Byletta’s opinion, the solution was to build a canal. That would allow the villagers to manage the water volume and protect their homes from damage at the same time.
“Plenty of men are returning from the war, so now would be the perfect time to build it, but we’ll need to make sure the foundations are solid or we could face issues later down the line. In that respect, I think it would be a good idea to ask an expert to check things over. As long as the foundations are strong, we shouldn’t have that hard of a time finishing up the rest. Plus, just getting that first bit into place should cut the water damage in half.”
“Where did you learn all these things?” Arnald asked curiously, gazing out at the view beside Byletta.
“This one’s a businesswoman,” said the count. “She’s always on top of anything that could make her a tidy sum.”
“Which is precisely why I’m able to offer all this advice,” said Byletta. “Feel free to compliment me more if you’d like.”
“Nothing good would come from letting you get too cocky.”
“I’m but a fragile young lady. I long for nothing more than to be treated with a little kindness.”