Chapter 8: Saint and Villainess
His touch was tender as he brushed her loose hair behind her back. Heat bloomed wherever his gaze fell. She wanted his body heat, his gaze to linger on her a little longer, but they fell away after a brief moment. His touch, showing not a hint of attachment, left her wanting more.
“Let’s be on our way.”
With a smile that seemed painted on, he opened the carriage door. His gesture of taking her hand and guiding her inside overflowed with gentlemanly grace. As if he were indeed the Duke of Lianton she had always known.
Quietly looking out the window, Lyra glanced at Kaylon. He was still appropriately tender and appropriately cool, yet why did her heart feel so constricted? He smiled when their eyes met, and they engaged in occasional casual conversation.
Lyra stared blankly at Kaylon’s lips. No matter how long she waited, his lips made no mention of last night. As if he had completely erased it from his mind.
As if saying our night was nothing more than a one-day mistake.
* * *
“My goodness… How can someone be so brazen?”
“I know, right? Walking in here again, of all places. Tsk.”
“She must have quite the backing to be so confident. The Duke of Lianton is equally hard to understand.”
“Shouldn’t we intervene? I’m worried she might harm Miss Claudia again.”
“Let’s just observe for now. With Duke O’Neill watching so closely, would something as drastic as yesterday happen again?”
“That’s true. Then what if we take our own revenge for Miss Claudia?”
“Good idea. Even if she is Duke Lianton’s fiancée, this would be a good opportunity to teach her a lesson. She needs to thoroughly understand the fearsome nature of high society so she won’t act recklessly again.”
“Yes, let’s do that.”
The ladies exchanged glances behind their fans. They soon turned their attention to the Marchioness of Fontpagneu, who had been silently listening.
“You agree as well, don’t you, Marchioness?”
“Is my opinion important?”
With her clear attitude of stepping back and merely observing, the ladies immediately sought out Baroness Mace. In matters like these, a skylark who would flit to anyone regardless of age or gender was necessary. Before long, they would be able to make their firm intentions known to everyone here.
Watching their resolute gazes, the Marchioness of Fontpagneu quietly smiled behind her gently swaying fan, carefully examining the woman crossing the ballroom with Kaylon.
The hostile gazes were piercing. This applied to both servants and guests alike. Even though yesterday’s mistake had been critical, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the reactions were excessively harsh.
How could this be? She had thought that at least some of Davira Claudia’s faults would be highlighted, but these gazes seemed to place the blame solely on her.
Even as she walked beside Kaylon, Lyra didn’t stop scanning her surroundings. She needed to survive in this environment somehow and identify those who might help her. But her hopes were soon shattered.
Prominent figures turned away from her, and unmarried women openly displayed disdain on their faces. This left only those with whom entanglement would bring no benefit.
Lyra quietly exhaled, ignoring those who eyed her with either curious or sinister gazes.
Just then, Kaylon, who had been exchanging brief nods with acquaintances, looked down at Lyra.
“Are you alright? Tell me if it becomes too difficult. I’ll stay by your side.”
He couldn’t possibly be unaware of these burning glares. Lyra faintly smiled and shook her head.
“I’m fine. I can manage alone.”
She didn’t want to burden him with this pressure.
“Very well.”
Kaylon didn’t ask twice. After staring at Lyra silently for a moment, he lightly held her tense face and briefly kissed her forehead. Just from that, Lyra could gather her courage again.
“Stay where my eyes can reach you.”
“Yes.”
For a moment, she felt reassured. Watching his broad back gradually moving away from her, she gently pressed down on her rapidly beating heart.
Though he hadn’t said much, his words sounded like a promise to protect her anytime, making even today’s disappointments melt away like snow.
‘Where his eyes can reach.’
Inwardly repeating his words, she stroked her empty arm and turned around. Her battle had begun anew, and she needed to gather strength to move forward.
But her resolution collapsed before even a few minutes had passed. When the Marchioness of Fontpagneu, whom she had thought would be the easiest to engage in conversation with, deliberately ignored her, Lyra felt as if the ground beneath her feet had crumbled.
A clear rejection. This was tantamount to a declaration that Lyra Norris would not be accepted in Brikna’s high society.
The Marchioness of Fontpagneu’s help was crucial to make up for yesterday’s mistake, but now what should she do?
Lyra’s steps came to an abrupt halt. For a moment, the violin melody that had been filling the hall seemed to screech as if the strings were being plucked violently, and the murmuring sounds directed at her seemed to grow louder. Suddenly finding herself alone, the world began to spin chaotically, and her head felt dizzy.
‘I want… to get out of here.’
Her stomach churned and she felt nauseous. She felt like a child who had lost her purpose and was wandering aimlessly.
She couldn’t understand why she was in such a place, why she was armed with an ornate dress that didn’t suit her.
The sounds of mockery clung to her eardrums. Voices ridiculing, despising, and looking down on her.
How dare you covet a noble status without knowing your place, how dare someone like you hurt the pure goddess, someone like you will never be part of the Duke’s family…
A continuation of yesterday when she had hastily fled this place. No, was it even worse now?
A bitter pain surged up from her solar plexus, and her body suddenly staggered. In the instant she thought she had lost her balance due to her high-heeled shoes, someone quickly supported her waist.
Lyra raised her head toward the man who had caught her.
* * *
“Oh my! What kind of behavior is that? Davira, did you just see that?”
The woman with her reddish-brown hair braided into a round updo widened her eyes, covering her mouth. She made a fuss as if she had witnessed something scandalous.
“Yes, Emily. Lord Cody is supporting Miss Norris.”
But Davira’s voice remained calm. Unlike the other women making a commotion beside her, she didn’t reveal her emotions.
“Of course he’s supporting her. That’s not what I meant. Why is she pretending to collapse the moment Lord Cody approaches when she was perfectly fine before? Could it be that she’s not satisfied with just Duke Lianton?”
“Your speculation goes too far, Emily.”
“Oh dear, this is why Davira just doesn’t work. You look at things too innocently, just as they appear, and that’s why you lost Duke Lianton to a woman like that.”
Other women shot disapproving glances at Emily, who, unable to contain her momentary excitement, had brought up a subject that was practically taboo. Emily quickly covered her mouth and made excuses.
“Ah, I mean, I’m just worried… It’s also frustrating that you were treated this way by such a woman…”
Then suddenly, filled with spite again, she pounded her chest.
“Ugh! It’s so frustrating. Are we just going to let that frivolous woman who goes around flirting take the Duke away like this?”
Her face appeared much more at ease after finally blurting out what she had been holding back since yesterday out of caution.
However, seeing Davira’s hardened expression, Emily promptly sealed her lips. While Davira generally had a gentle personality, it was also true that she could be intimidating when angered.
With a sigh, Davira spoke as if for everyone to hear.
“Please respect the Duke’s choice. I appreciate your concern for me, but I’d like you to maintain proper boundaries. I don’t want my one-sided feelings to burden Duke Lianton. The same goes for all of you.”
“My goodness. This Emily simply can’t help but adore Davira.”
As if she had never been tense, Emily’s face appeared touched by Davira’s words. How could she make such a noble statement, gently indicating that she wouldn’t forcefully push her love?
Just as Emily was thinking that Davira Claudia would be a woman worth loving even without her saintly aura, the ballroom suddenly erupted in commotion.
Disturbed from her moment of admiration, Emily turned her head toward the source, as if it were to be expected. And then, aghast at the situation that had unfolded in the brief moment she had looked away, she called out to Davira again. She began chattering excitedly once more.
