Chapter 17 : A Lesson in Elegance and Pretending
Chapter 17
The dressing room was cool and spacious, its polished marble floor gleaming beneath the soft light. It was large enough for several people to change at once, and the air was filled with the gentle rustling of fabric as servants moved in and out, carrying armfuls of dresses.
Dresses in every color and style lined the hangers. Every time the door opened, the sound of clinking hangers echoed softly.
I stepped forward and stood before the mirror. The servants brought countless gowns to Marilyn, who silently examined both me and the dresses. Without hesitation, she selected three and held them up one by one.
“With your fair, luminous skin and chestnut hair, warm yellows suit you well,” she commented. “But since you’ll be practicing the waltz, a soft cream tone would be more appropriate.”
“Let’s go with that,” I agreed.
“This one shall do,” she said simply.
It was, undeniably, the most elegant choice.
After dressing, Marilyn inspected my posture and the refinement of my gestures. Unlike earlier, her expression remained neutral—neither sharp nor displeased.
“Did your father teach you noble etiquette himself?”
“Not really. Maybe some people are just… born with it.”
She nodded with a faint air of indifference. “Perhaps you are one of those rare few.”
Then, the lesson continued—waltz steps once more.
“Your greeting is flawless. It’s the steps that are outdated. Let’s fix them.”
Strict, yes—but she was undeniably skilled.
“Keep your feet grounded when not moving. Distribute your weight evenly. As you dance, hold your shoulders back, spine straight, and maintain a balanced distance.”
Although it required focus and correction, I adapted quickly.
Apparently, I was not a bad student—she even remarked that I picked up her style with ease.
As the lesson ended, Marilyn glanced at the clock.
“…The master will arrive shortly. I believe you dine together after dancing.”
Her voice, oddly, trembled ever so slightly.
“You’ve grown,” Marilyn said. These were her first words upon seeing Duke Johannes Schultz.
“What a thing to say,” he replied with a humorless laugh. It sounded light, but the undertone was more bitter than amused.
Marilyn transformed before my eyes. Gone was the severe tutor; she looked almost uncertain, as if unsure how to face him.
“Forgive me for not greeting you sooner,” she murmured. “You resemble your late wife.”
“Enough,” the Duke interrupted coldly. “That’s not why I summoned you.”
The room went still. Even I felt a chill.
“I called you solely to assist the woman who is to become my wife.”
His gaze, sharp and unyielding, turned toward me.
“Miss Prim.”
I straightened instinctively.
“Ah… Miss Prim,” Marilyn stammered. “She has a solid foundation. She’ll learn quickly.”
“Good. You may go.”
His voice was flat, dismissive.
Marilyn bowed deeply, sorrow etching her features as she exited.
Was there something between them…?
As the doors shut, a tall shadow fell over me. I looked up.
The Duke’s expression had softened—his face no longer devoid of feeling.
“Did the practice go well?” he asked, voice kind.
He extended a hand, and I curtsied, placing my hand in his.
“Yes. Marilyn taught me well. Are you all right now?”
“There’s no other option,” he said, half-smiling as he gently placed a hand on my waist.
“Excuse me.”
The closeness was startling. Our breaths mingled.
This wasn’t like dancing with Father or with Marilyn.
It’s… embarrassing.
Especially with no music playing.
The faint sound of my gown brushing against his legs, our shoes on marble, even our breathing—it was all too vivid.
Heat bloomed in my face. My palms and brow were damp with nervous sweat.
If I looked forward, I saw his chest beneath a thin shirt. If I looked up, our eyes met. Looking down was inappropriate, and over his shoulder felt awkward.
I just kept shifting my gaze.
My shoes, slightly too big, caused me to stumble. My steps were clumsy—nothing like with Marilyn.
I moved stiffly, barely managing to keep up.
The Duke, meanwhile, moved with fluid ease.
How foolish I must have looked.
“I’m sorry. I was nervous…”
“It’s all right. You’ll grow used to it.”
“I hope so…”
And indeed, as he predicted, I began to adjust.
“Have you thought of how you’ll address me?” he asked suddenly.
“Oh… I’m sorry. I was too distracted to think about it.”
We discussed how we might refer to each other—a title not too distant, yet intimate.
Eventually, we agreed on first names, or simply ‘you’ in private. In formal settings, I’d still address him as Duke.
“Wait.”
Just as I turned to leave after one final waltz, he stopped me.
“Would you take a walk with me? There’s something I wish to say.”
“Do you have any experience with romance?”
The question struck out of nowhere.
If I answered yes, would he call off the engagement?
I paused.
Thankfully, I didn’t need to lie.
“None.”
Instead of relief, his brow furrowed.
“That’s… troublesome,” he muttered to himself.
“Why do you ask?”
“Is there someone else you love? It’s late to ask, I know. But I’d like an honest answer.”
I blinked in confusion.
He hesitated, then finally said:
“After marriage, we’ll have to share a room. It’s Schultz family tradition. If we don’t, there’ll be backlash.”
“All right. That’s fine.”
“It means we must appear like lovers. Genuinely in love. Nothing untoward will happen, of course.”
“Understood.”
“We may even need to kiss. At the banquet, or during the ceremony. Just once or twice.”
So that’s what all this fuss is about?
I nodded calmly. “That’s fine. I’m prepared.”
“I don’t want you to misunderstand.”
“I don’t. A kiss is just… touching lips. I accepted this engagement with full awareness.”
His expression twisted slightly.
Even to me, my voice sounded uncharacteristically resolute.
It wasn’t that I found kissing romantic—it was a confusing act, frankly. Why rub lips with another?
But if necessary, I could endure it. It was just an act.
“If you’re asking because you have a lover, I’ll respect your privacy. I don’t mind who you meet.”
I meant it.
“I’m not sure I even have the right to say that,” I added, shrugging.
Rumors of Duke Schultz were known even among commoners—women flocked to him. Surely he’d been with others.
Lost in thought, I didn’t realize he’d moved closer.
“Miss Prim,” he said softly.
I turned to him. His voice was a sigh.
“You seem to misunderstand me.”
I said nothing.
“I’m sorry this didn’t begin like a fairy tale.”
He gently raised my chin, making me meet his eyes—deep, brilliant blue.
“But I intend to be a decent husband. There’s nothing to fear.”
His voice was calm, but the sentiment behind it… was warm.
I simply nodded.
He tilted his head, seeming to take that as permission.
“This should suffice.”
His breath hovered near my lips. I whispered:
“Shall I close my eyes now?”
And I did.
The air between us shrank. My heart raced. I’d never been this close to anyone.
Just breathe.
I prepared myself.
Yet, the kiss never came.
I opened my eyes, puzzled.
“Why not just do it?”
His gaze flickered.
“I believe that’s enough practice.”
Why hesitate now? Wouldn’t it be easier to practice?
“Isn’t it silly for two ‘lovers’ to have their first kiss at the wedding? It’ll look forced.”
He didn’t move.
I insisted, “You can go ahead. I don’t place any meaning on it.”
I leaned closer.
He hesitated, then lifted my chin again.
“All right, then.”
His lips brushed mine—soft, warm, fleeting.
I froze.
I’d been embarrassed while dancing… but this?
A realization struck:
I don’t hate kissing.
I was just… embarrassed.
That kiss, brief and quiet, on a winter night, held more than I expected.
