Chapter 10
“Or whatever else she might prove useful for.”
Compared to the other households of the capital, the young lady nicknamed the ‘mad dog’ already seemed rather usefull. That alone was reason enough for Dominique to keep an eye on her.
‘When planning anything, it’s always better to have more pieces on the board.’
And so, ignoring the curious onlookers lingering around his carriage, Dominique made his offer.
“Get in, young lady.”
“……”
“If you’re headed to the Imperial Palace, I’ll take you.”
Kyrie was dumbfounded.
“And why should I?”
“Aren’t you holding a weakness in my hands?”
He was, of course, referring to the incident where she had slipped into the Crown Prince’s bedchamber and lay upon his bed.
Rather than flinching, Kyrie tilted her head in mild confusion.
“A weakness, you say.”
“Is it not a weakness for a proper young lady of a noble house to be found in the bed of a man in the dead of night?”
She nearly laughed aloud. This, from the very man who had so boldly called her a mad dog to her face, yet now spoke as though she were still a decorous noble lady.
“Please, would you be so kind as to spread that rumor for me? That I was in His Highness the Crown Prince’s bed?”
Kyrie bit out each word as though pressing them down with her teeth.
“Better yet, spread that His Highness lay in bed with me. That would be ideal.”
If such a rumor spread, it would only work in her favor. Thanks to the Grand Duke, her carefully laid plans had already been undone.
Rather than pointing that out, Kyrie turned away, intent on leaving.
But the Grand Duke called to her again.
“I said, get in.”
“And I said, why should I…?”
“If you insist on walking, I imagine you’ll parade down the main street grinning ear to ear again, won’t you?”
“And what of it, my lord?”
Kyrie lifted the corner of her lips in a defiant smirk, refusing to back down even a single word.
Dominique, watching her closely, shrugged.
“Now this is getting interesting. It would be dull if you became boring again.”
“Are you saying my smiling strolls are dulling your amusement?”
The way he spoke of her, as if she were no more than a curiosity, ignited a sudden, sharp anger within her.
She had grown accustomed to such treatment from others, but for some reason, coming from this man, it struck a nerve.
“I decline your company, Grand Duke.”
She narrowed her eyes and chose her words deliberately, ones he would no doubt find distasteful.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I make it a point not to be entangled in scandal with any man other than His Highness.”
“Scandal, is it?”
As expected, Dominique reacted as though she’d told the most ridiculous joke.
An expression of mild disbelief, as if wondering how she could ever presume such a thing between them.
Of course, Kyrie hardly thought differently herself. Even if she were to ride in his carriage, the tongues of the capital would spin a different tale this time, that the mad dog had the Grand Duke by the throat and was running rampant. Not a word would be said of scandal.
‘In any case.’
Let them think what they would. Kyrie smiled radiantly, firmly determined to seize the upper hand this time, and said boldly.
“Unless you wish for a rumor that you’ve begun courting the mad dog, I suggest you leave it here.”
At her words, the Grand Duke’s gaze deepened.
“From scandal to courtship, now. Do I appear so?”
“Well, what else am I to think?”
“Ah.”
“Then, if you’ll excuse me….. ”
Kyrie was just about to slam the carriage door shut when it happened.
Thunk.
Something soft slipped between the narrowing gap of the door, a firm male hand. With a sharp noise, the door was forced back open.
“Then I suppose you’ve no need for this?”
Clink.
Something dangled from the Grand Duke’s fingers, glinting in the light. Kyrie caught it immediately.
“……!”
The very pendant she had been searching for.
“Looked to me like it’d been handled enough.”
As he spoke, his fingers caressed the surface of the pendant, now worn smooth from being held so often.
Kyrie stepped into the carriage without hesitation. At once, Dominique withdrew his hand.
Thud.
The heavy door shut, and the carriage began to move. Even then, Kyrie’s gaze remained locked on the pendant.
“Sit, young lady.”
“……”
The pendant necklace swung from his fingers, catching the light. Strangely, it looked just like bait hanging inside a trap. Kyrie shuddered.
“Return it to me.”
“I found it. It’s mine now, isn’t it?”
Utterly absurd. There was no reason to listen any further. Kyrie reached out without another word.
“You shouldn’t, young lady.”
But Dominique raised or withdrew the pendant exactly as she drew near. Every time her fingertips brushed close, the distance widened again.
Kyrie glared at him from an awkward half-standing, half-sitting posture, breath growing unsteady.
“Unless you wish to get yourself hurt in a moving carriage…”
The Grand Duke gestured meaningfully to the seat across from him. Kyrie, unwilling to yield, reached out one last time.
“Give…it…back…!”
She all but growled through gritted teeth, and just then,
Thunk.
The carriage gave a violent jolt. Kyrie lost her balance, tumbling forward with her hand still outstretched.
“Ah!”
A short, involuntary sound escaped her lips, whether it was a gasp or a cry of shock, she could not tell. In the next instant, her body landed squarely atop Dominique’s.
“……”
A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the carriage.
She could feel her soft chest pressed firmly against his broad, uniformed torso, her pulse pounding erratically.
His steady heartbeat sent a subtle vibration through both their bodies. Her slender legs brushed against a frame like hewn stone.
Any attempt to rise was thwarted as the carriage jolted again.
Thunk.
This time, Kyrie ended up seated squarely atop the Grand Duke’s lap, as though astride him.
A vivid, unpleasant memory of the previous night came rushing back.
That oppressive sensation, as though his large hands might seize her at any moment.
His hand, broad enough to enclose her narrow waist with just one palm, rested there as though to steady her.
Even through layers of cloth, the heat of his touch felt like a brand.
‘…Damn these cursed roads.’
Kyrie inwardly cursed the capital’s poorly maintained cobblestone streets. The blame swiftly extended to the indolent officials, and ultimately, to the Emperor himself.
If he were half as concerned with state affairs as he was with disciplining the nobility and flexing his power, these roads would be passable. And she wouldn’t be in this humiliating position.
An unfamiliar, prickling sensation climbed her spine. Whatever it was, something she had never known before, Kyrie decided it must be disgust.
Her heart stuttered out of rhythm, her body unwilling to obey her will. If not disgust, then what else could it be?
“Haa.”
No matter how she reached, she could not reclaim the pendant. A long, weary sigh escaped her lips.
Dominique glanced down at her, then tilted his head.
“That’s not quite what I meant when I told you to sit.”
“And where I choose to sit is none of your concern, is it not?”
Her sharp-tongued reply betrayed none of the turmoil in her chest.
“I suppose the ride’s far superior, hm? You must’ve been saddled with some poor carriages until now.”
Even as he spoke, the Grand Duke made no move to return her pendant. Infuriating man.
Biting her lip, Kyrie finally pushed herself off his lap. With a rough thud, she dropped into the opposite seat. Only then did Dominique extend his hand.
“Such a gentleman you are.”
She snatched the pendant from his palm, her voice like a blade. Its familiar weight, warmed by another’s touch, settled into her hand.
He must have been holding it the entire time. That too was infuriating. Kyrie scrubbed at it furiously, and for once, her usual bright, blooming smile refused to surface.
It irked her, but now, she no longer had the will to force a grin.
Watching her fidget with the pendant, Dominique spoke again.
“Wasn’t that supposed to be precious to you?”
“It is.”
“Then why treat it like that?”
The words were polite enough, yet Kyrie still felt mocked.
“If your intention is to insult me in this manner….. ”
“Calm yourself, young lady.”
With the same tone he had used to call her ‘mad dog,’ Dominique uttered the courteous title and nonchalantly drew a cigar to his lips.
The sharp strike of a match sent a pungent scent curling through the air, making Kyrie cough and wrinkle her nose.
“No insult intended.”
A lingering, maddeningly familiar smile followed.
