Jennifer answered without hesitation, her tone steady and serious. “Young Master, I would never misuse public funds. If I want something, I’ll buy it with my own money. And I’m not used to wearing dresses—they’re inconvenient.”
She moved with speed and precision, her steps firm and efficient. To her, skirts restricted movement, making even simple actions feel constrained. More importantly, they were impractical in a fight—too easy to get in the way, or worse, expose vulnerabilities.
Titus fell silent for a moment before responding, “The household account is for you to use. Buying things for yourself isn’t embezzlement.”
Jennifer shook her head. “I’m your butler and your bodyguard. That money belongs to the household—I can’t use it for personal expenses. My salary is more than enough. And the inheritance the old master left me… I’ve invested it with you over the years. It’s grown quite a bit. I don’t lack money, so there’s no need to touch the household funds.”
Titus paused, then said, “Then… when you accompany me to formal events in the future, could you wear an evening gown? Maybe even heels?”
He hesitated, almost reluctant to voice the thought. Deep down, he simply wanted to see her dressed beautifully—wanted her to shine among Havenmill’s elite, surpassing every elegantly dressed socialite in the room.
But before Jennifer could answer, he exhaled softly and shook his head. “Forget it. You’re not used to that kind of thing, and it doesn’t suit your personality. Just wear whatever makes you comfortable.”
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