Chapter 70 : A Dance Beneath the Gilded Masks
Chapter 70
“Duchess!”
The shrill call of Laura Hatzfeld split the air, laced with false concern and hungry triumph.
Every head turned toward me.
I slowly glanced over my shoulder, my expression pale and distant. And there she stood—Laura—with a satisfied sneer blooming like a thorned rose on her lips.
So this is what she’d been preparing.
A game of veiled cruelty and sharpened smiles. She hadn’t forgotten what happened at the reception… her pride was still stinging.
And so she reached for the one story guaranteed to unsettle me—Johannes Schulz. It was all a play. A ploy to shake my footing.
‘…I never imagined she’d stoop this low.’
Marilyn’s warning echoed in my head.
I should’ve listened.
My eyes shut tightly for a fleeting second.
Perhaps it was best to say nothing, to do nothing—to fade into stillness and let the moment pass untouched.
But then—
A pair of arms enveloped me.
Warm. Firm. Familiar.
The scent that curled into my senses was unmistakable.
Johannes.
He had arrived.
With practiced elegance, Johannes moved behind me as if the entire ballroom belonged to him alone. Unbothered. Unhurried. Unapologetic.
He undid one of the decorative ribbons on my skirt, and with deft fingers, fastened it across the loosened straps of my dress—repairing what had been undone with dangerous intent.
Every time his skin grazed mine, a ripple of shivers stole through my body.
Only once he stepped away did I release the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I remained frozen, trying to steady the storm inside me.
The hall had fallen into absolute silence. Every noble eye was trained upon us—witnesses to a scene far too intimate for the likes of them.
Johannes leaned closer, his voice barely above a breath.
“I believe I just saved you. Does that count?”
He whispered it like a joke, like he hadn’t just stopped a scandal from erupting in full bloom.
I turned my face slightly and met his eyes.
“…Yes.”
He offered a soft smile, then stepped away like a true gentleman, as if nothing had happened.
“Ah, my apologies,” he said aloud, addressing the ladies, “I fear I interrupted what looked like such an enjoyable conversation with my wife.”
They flinched—Laura and her circle—paralyzed until his voice stirred them to motion again.
“O-oh no, not at all.”
“We didn’t expect you to arrive today…”
Their voices trembled, no longer poised.
Johannes’ eyes swept over the group. “It seems the ribbon was cut with something sharp. Do you know how this happened?”
It wasn’t an accusation.
But the chill behind those words was unmistakable.
The women shrank back, scrambling for composure. Laura, ever the actress, tilted her head gracefully.
“Well… perhaps it was already loose before. One must always inspect one’s garments carefully.”
Her feigned innocence was galling.
And Johannes—he only smiled.
A warm, charming, utterly unnecessary smile. The kind of smile no man should ever give a woman who just tried to disgrace his wife.
Her cheeks flushed.
And something within me snapped.
‘There’s no reason to smile at her. Has he ever smiled at me like that…?’
I had remained composed when they whispered behind my back. I had endured their slights and mockery. But this—this—was too much.
Laura sipped from her glass, giggling lightly.
“I’ll be more cautious next time.”
“I would appreciate that,” Johannes replied, his tone still silky smooth.
Too smooth.
Why show such grace to a woman who had so clearly set her sights on humiliating me?
I bit down hard on my lower lip. I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me shaken.
Still, he kept talking to her. Pleasantly. Indifferently. As if I weren’t even standing there.
“The lady has a refined air,” he said.
Laura glowed. Her eyes flickered to me with quiet victory.
And Johannes said nothing of it.
Is that the kind of woman he truly wants?
Noble. Elegant. Born to this world of silks and cruelty.
Not a commoner.
Not me.
Maybe it really is better if we part ways, as they all seemed to hope. If he truly wanted someone like her, he wouldn’t miss me.
‘Yes… maybe divorce would be better. At least I wouldn’t have to live like this, not knowing where I stand.’
Of course, that only applies… if Johannes really is the murderer.
But when he says he’ll fulfill his duties as a husband…
My stomach twisted.
The dance music began. Finally, finally, the conversation ended.
Without hesitation, Johannes turned away from Laura and extended a hand—to me.
Her face fell.
And he passed her by without a second glance.
Still, I said nothing as we began to dance. I didn’t meet his eyes once.
After a while, his voice cut through the silence.
“You’re frowning. Are you upset? People will think we’re unhappy.”
I stared ahead. “I think that assumption has already been made—especially by the women you spent such a lovely time speaking with.”
He chuckled.
And I couldn’t understand how.
How can he laugh after all that?
He had nearly lost me to humiliation, and yet he stood there as if nothing had happened. As if all was a game.
‘Doesn’t he care anymore? Does he not even feel the need to pretend we’re a real couple?’
The family’s honor… he always claimed to uphold it. Was this not a threat to it?
I wanted to stay calm. I tried to stay calm.
But the words spilled out.
“…Why didn’t you marry Lady Hatzfeld? I heard there were talks before. You seemed… very well-suited.”
He drew me in closer, his breath brushing my temple.
“Jealousy suits you. You finally sound like a real wife.”
“…I asked in earnest.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Believe what you want,” I muttered.
Johannes Schulz—always gentle, always polite.
I reminded myself: he’s courteous to everyone. It didn’t mean anything.
Still, I couldn’t shake the sting.
“And please,” I added, “stop calling me your ‘fake’ wife. We were married in a cathedral. The certificate bears both our names.”
My voice had turned sharp, despite myself.
I glanced at him. He seemed… amused. Too amused.
“Do you have something to say to me?” he asked.
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“About earlier. Are you upset that I spoke with Lady Hatzfeld the way I did?”
His words were direct. Striking.
I stiffened.
Was I upset?
Of course I was.
But I couldn’t say it.
“…Why would I be angry?” I replied. “You’re a duke. Even if our family isn’t what it used to be, it’s still wise to stay in favor with the nobility.”
“I see.”
His face grew suddenly serious.
The music continued, but the lightness had fled.
“I suppose,” I added, “we agreed to marriage—not love.”
“…”
“If you were truly in love, then yes—perhaps you’d be angry about your spouse speaking so intimately with another. But that’s not us.”
The words echoed in the quiet between us.
Even I wasn’t sure if I believed them.
Was I angry about the situation, or about being ignored?
I looked away.
We moved in silence for a while, our steps aligned, yet our hearts adrift.
As the music reached its end, Johannes finally spoke—his voice low and unreadable.
“…I want to ask you something.”
