Chapter 8: Saint and Villainess
* * *
Slap!
The crisp sound of impact set the man’s face aflame. Lyra stared at his angular eyes, gradually contorting, with trembling hands. Or more accurately, she had yet to recover from the shock of the words she had just heard.
‘What… did he just say?’
The man who received the slap, Cody Ferret, rubbed his stinging cheek before pulling his lips into a sardonic smile.
“Ha, for a lowly courtesan, you’ve got quite a sting to your hand. It’s not like I said anything untrue. You’re the daughter of a prostitute, aren’t you? Am I wrong?”
A prostitute? She had no idea how such rumors about her had spread. As she bit her lip, he continued, as if to say “there, you see?”
“Then it must also be true that you offer your body for money? Your relationship with Duke Lianton is obviously the same.”
“…!”
Her pulse quickened at his continued insulting remarks, and her skin prickled at his gaze that brazenly traveled up and down her body.
“What’s the reason for entering the ballroom in such a revealing dress that goes against proper etiquette? Could it be the Duke’s preference?”
Cody Ferret took a step forward. His gaze lingered on her décolletage before rising.
“Well, Duke Lianton has always liked women with large breasts. You seem to fall a bit short of the standard, but I suppose it doesn’t matter since your face is pretty?”
“…”
“What do you say? If you leave with me now, I could give you a night to die for. I happen to be very compatible with bad women.”
The way he moistened his lips while looking at her was so repulsive and humiliating. Yet Lyra couldn’t find words to retort. Despite the different circumstances, it was true that she had shared the Duke’s bed just last night. It was also true that she now lived a noble-like life under his patronage.
A conscience that wasn’t entirely clear pricked at her uncomfortable spots.
What should I do in this situation?
‘What should I do, madam?’
Trying to recall Mrs. Beightle’s teachings wasn’t easy.
“Don’t let them find your weaknesses… if someone pries into personal matters…”
The advice the lady had given her buzzed in her mind before fading away. Lyra closed her eyes tightly to hide her trembling heart.
As she slowly regulated her breathing, the man who had taken another step closer grabbed her wrist.
“I’ll take the offered cheek as permission, shall I?”
At that moment, Lyra’s eyes opened. Her wavering gaze suddenly changed, as if she had put on a mask.
“Let go.”
“Huh? What did you say?”
The man, who was about to lead her outside, turned his head at the sudden change in atmosphere.
“I said, let go.”
A small but clear voice slipped through her teeth. Lyra stared directly into the eyes of the man who let out an incredulous laugh. There was no one here to save her anyway. Her only ally was absent, and everyone else was an enemy.
If that was the case, wouldn’t the best strategy be to inversely use her ruined image?
“You seem to have forgotten that I am Duke Lianton’s fiancée, Lord Cody.”
As the unexpected name left her lips, the man’s face, full of mockery, instantly hardened. It was natural, as he hadn’t expected a woman he thought had luckily stumbled into high society to even know his name.
Moreover, there was a subtle hint of threat in her tone. Cody Ferret unconsciously swallowed and raised both hands. His thoughts of using her for a night’s pleasure, or perhaps meeting her a few more times if he found her agreeable, behind Duke Lianton’s back, deflated completely.
“Haha, how could I forget? I thought we could become good friends, but I guess not?”
Even his condescending tone from earlier suddenly changed. If, as Lyra suggested, Duke Lianton were to step in, the situation would be quite different.
He quickly sought out the Duke’s location with a sideways glance, then turned to Lyra with a sly smile.
“One doesn’t make friends in bed.”
“Oh my, I can’t even joke now. I sincerely hope the lady realizes there are various kinds of friendships in this world.”
“I doubt it. That won’t happen.”
Lyra turned away before the man could respond. She ignored the lingering gaze she felt from behind throughout her departure. She was already overwhelmed just trying to control her slightly trembling fingertips.
* * *
Beyond the dancing crowd, two figures occasionally caught the eye before disappearing again. The man sticking close to the slender beauty, who was around the same age as his daughter, clearly approached with unsavory intentions for anyone to see.
The son of the Ferret family, notorious for his loose conduct and wandering hands, made for a scene sufficient to evoke anxiety in any observer. Yet Kaylon sat indifferently, merely twirling his wine glass.
Duke O’Neill asked Kaylon with evident suspicion in his eyes.
“Why aren’t you intervening?”
Kaylon smirked as he watched the Duke’s eyes narrow thinly. He could see right through what Duke O’Neill was thinking. How curious he must be, seeing a man remain so composed when the woman he had publicly declared his fiancée was in distress.
He glanced at Lyra, who looked as if she might be dragged away at any moment with her wrist in Cody Ferret’s grip, before answering smoothly.
“Not every woman in the world waits for a prince on a white horse. My woman isn’t that weak, you see.”
“Your arrogance is excessive.”
“Well, whether it’s arrogance or not, we’ll find out by watching, won’t we?”
Duke O’Neill, squinting one eye, picked up his glass and drained it in one go. Despite Kaylon’s attitude falling far outside the bounds of gentlemanly conduct, he strangely couldn’t feel at ease.
Just moments ago, Duke O’Neill had been convinced this was merely a well-orchestrated play, but perhaps due to that confident attitude, he felt himself being persuaded otherwise.
Recalling Davira, who had locked herself in her room refusing food and drink until the ball began, he asked in a displeased tone.
“Is it trust?”
Despite the question implying whether such trust had built between them in such a short time, Kaylon’s expression remained unchanged.
A couple who had met just a few months ago, cultivated love, and promised a future together. Was that really possible? If it were an arrangement between families, he might understand, but wasn’t Lyra Norris’s very birth suspicious?
A woman who had stirred up all sorts of rumors upon her entry into society. As he inwardly clicked his tongue, Kaylon answered.
“Let’s call it love rather than trust. I was drawn to her and had my heart stolen precisely because she’s that kind of woman.”
As Kaylon’s gaze turned toward the floor, Duke O’Neill’s head naturally followed. He searched for the woman who had been flustered moments ago, and promptly furrowed his brow.
“She certainly doesn’t seem to have a docile personality.”
“Is that so.”
Kaylon chuckled softly. For some reason, the image of Davira came to mind. He couldn’t help but compare her to his own daughter, whom he had cherished and protected, almost too precious to show off, afraid she might fly away if even a breeze touched her.
In such a situation, Davira would surely have shed tears first. Not that she was entirely fragile, but somehow, he understood what Kaylon meant.
Duke O’Neill quietly clenched his fist. Apart from his anger at the woman’s outrageous behavior yesterday, he felt a pang of guilt toward his daughter for unconsciously comparing her.
He directed that anger at Kaylon. After all, it was clear that he was disrupting the atmosphere at his family’s party.
“Are you truly certain you won’t regret this?”
“Do I have a reason to regret? I’ve merely chosen love over practical benefit.”
“You seem like someone who wouldn’t bleed a drop if stabbed. I understand yet don’t understand why Davira had her heart set on you.”
“On that point, I completely agree.”
When Kaylon promptly replied to his grumbling remark, Duke O’Neill let out an incredulous “Ha!”
“In any case, you must pay the price for ruining the party and hurting my daughter.”
“Of course.”
Duke O’Neill quietly gritted his teeth at Kaylon’s nonchalant attitude, habitually rummaging through his inner pocket. Desperately craving something to settle his nerves, he frowned as he realized he had left his cigar case in his room.
He called over a passing servant, instructing him to bring it, then spoke again.
“You must definitely participate on the final day of the hunting festival. It seems the gray fox will be yours to claim, after all.”
Understanding Duke O’Neill’s intention, Kaylon smiled lightly and replied.
“Certainly.”
It was clearly meant as an instruction to capture the prey and present it to Davira Claudia as a form of apology. Kaylon watched Duke O’Neill rise from his seat with an unyielding expression, then turned his head away.
But when he couldn’t spot the woman whose position he had been periodically checking, his eyes immediately hardened. He uncrossed his legs and quietly stood up.
