Chapter 12
Just the thought of those eyes, lifted as though in defiance, was almost laughable, yet compared to the other young ladies who flinched and cowered before him, she was remarkably bold.
‘And to think she was so brazen in that scant attire.’
Even when she fled from him, she remained dressed like that, barefoot, with bare skin clearly visible.
The only thing covering her negligee was his cloak, which he had draped over her.
‘What if someone else saw her like that?’
The thought that someone might have laid eyes on that pale, soft body soured his mood further.
Dominique recalled Kyrie Ehrenberg, who had recklessly thrown herself at him moments ago, paying no mind to how their bodies brushed against each other in the scuffle.
‘I told you it was the mine…’
That ridiculous cry, her chest pressing against his uniform, that slender body brazenly settling between his legs. Her white calves, like silk, brushing past his firm legs.
The ticklish warmth, the weight of her as if she were bunches of feathers rubbing against him.
She had been soft and warm.
If only she could accept his counsel with half as much grace as her touch.
‘She might have been far more interesting.’
Had she only been obedient to his words, he might have put her to use, perhaps even as a valuable resource.
Dominique had even considered humoring her, if only to provoke Lexion’s jealousy, perhaps offering a little help here and there.
Playing the part of a false lover wouldn’t be difficult, and placing his hand around that slender waist while watching Lexion’s face contort would’ve been an appealing diversion.
‘No.’
On second thought, this obsession was unlike him. He had plenty of other options besides her.
‘If anything, Kyrie Ehrenberg is the variable.’
It was with those thoughts that he slowly made his way into the imperial palace gardens, where he was meant to meet the Emperor.
“Grand Duke Haswell.”
At the sight of the figure standing in place of the Emperor, Dominique halted.
“Lady Miriam Mellure.”
“To meet you in a place like this, what a pleasure.”
Miriam was the Duchess of Mellure, a province in the east that offered tribute to the Empire in exchange for autonomy.
Around her, Mellure’s attendants stood still, watching Dominique.
“It has been some time.”
The woman’s eyes gleamed with subtle greed, but Dominique showed no reaction to the look. He simply regarded her with cold, measuring eyes.
‘A woman treated as a state guest wandering into the palace gardens unannounced.’
Perhaps the Emperor was seeking a new alliance.
Dominique spoke in a calm tone, even as his mind calculated the merits of Mellure and what such a move could mean for the Emperor.
“When did you arrive?”
“Just a short while ago. I’ve come to attend His Highness the Crown Prince’s victory banquet.”
“I see.”
“Though the official banquet ended yesterday, I hear the celebrations will continue for weeks.”
A victory banquet.
‘It can’t be just that.’
The cunning Emperor wouldn’t have summoned the Duchess of Mellure without purpose.
Miriam smiled faintly as she fanned herself. Though nearing old age, her tightly corseted figure and meticulously maintained appearance made her look decades younger.
The Mellure Duchess continued.
“His Majesty mentioned there was something he wished to mediate for us.”
It was news to Dominique.
Mellure and Haswell were provinces at opposite ends of the continent. Their primary industries didn’t even overlap, there was no reason for trade agreements, let alone mediation.
And then, a sharp, foreboding premonition stirred within him. A powerful, unshakable intuition that whispered surely not… and yet left no room for doubt.
His instincts had never betrayed him.
“I was recently widowed,” the Duchess said, her cheeks flushing as she laughed, her eyes trailing over him as though appraising a prize.
“…Hah.”
Dominique couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle.
‘So that’s why marriage was suddenly being mentioned.’
He quickly recalled what he knew of Miriam’s history. She had married three times already.
Her husbands, in effect, had all been consorts, forced to relinquish their family names to take Mellure’s, so as not to endanger the duchy’s autonomy.
Dominique hadn’t forgotten that one of them had even been a royal prince.
‘Though his claim to a throne was distant.’
It seemed that experience had granted Miriam quite a bit of confidence. After all, for a woman who had once married a prince, a duke would hardly be an intimidating match.
Especially a duke the Emperor was so desperate to offload at a bargain.
A slow smile formed at the corner of Dominique’s lips.
‘They’ve all lost their minds.’
Apparently, it hadn’t satisfied the Emperor to simply bind him to some powerless noblewoman. Now, it seemed he would prefer Dominique to cast aside his family name entirely.
Yet the fact remained- the Haswell name, as the Empire’s First Duke, outweighed Mellure without question. Not even the Emperor could trade away House Haswell so cheaply.
At least, Dominique understood the Emperor’s intent well enough.
‘Unless it’s a marriage that would disgrace me into abandoning my house.’
Such a relentless obsession. It was enough to make one sick.
Still smiling, Miriam gestured.
“Come, Your Grace. You must join me for some tea.”
But Dominique had no intention of playing along so easily.
With the same radiant smile Kyrie had shown him, something he would admit to having learned from her, he replied.
And for a brief instant, Miriam was visibly entranced by that smile.
“There’s something I’ve left behind.”
“Then I shall wait he…… ”
“No. It will take some time. It’s something I absolutely must retrieve.”
“Wait, Grand Duke Haswell…… ”
Dominique paused in his steps and spoke.
“Since you’re here, you should take a look at the imperial sable auction while you’re at it.”
“…Sables?”
“The auctioneers here are quite skilled at stitching old things together.”
His gaze as he looked at her was cold. Sables were, after all, the symbol of Mellure.
By the time Miriam belatedly realized the insult and flinched, Dominique was already walking away.
There was a limit to pretending to bow to the Emperor’s whims. No reason to subject himself to unnecessary humiliation.
Besides, he preferred hunting to being hunted. It wasn’t in his nature to tremble in fear at the prospect of being sold off as a political pawn.
‘Better to strike first.’
If it came to that, he would find a bride of his choosing before anyone else could act. But the problem was that none seemed to fit the role.
Striding deep into the garden, Dominique’s long legs covered ground swiftly.
The urge to wrap his hands around a smooth gun barrel gnawed at him.
‘Imagine, being treated like a commodity.’
Entertaining the Emperor’s games had apparently emboldened him to overstep.
And yet, in a way, the fact that he was now seen as so easy to handle wasn’t entirely displeasing.
‘He’d best grow even more careless.’
As he crossed the garden and loosened his collar in irritation, a shrill voice pierced his ear.
“Stop!”
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
Kyrie paused to catch her breath.
Before her stretched a painfully coincidental scene.
“…So then…”
“…If that’s the case…”
On the second-floor terrace of a private annex, built for the imperial family within the garden, a man and a woman conversed sweetly.
It was unmistakably Lexion and Elise.
‘Of all people…’
Had it been any other woman, Kyrie wouldn’t have cared. She had no expectations of Lexion.
The agreement between them was little more than a formality. He owed her no fidelity.
Lexion, no doubt believing he kept his dalliances well concealed, had long since bored Kyrie to exhaustion with the task of dealing with the young ladies he toyed with.
Where he went, and with whom, was of no consequence.
As long as he married her, that was enough.
But Elise was different.
Memories surfaced, Elise, standing among Kyrie’s brothers, gazing coldly down at her. Smiling, even at Kyrie’s misery during her own mother’s funeral.
It was then that Kyrie understood.
Elise, kind to everyone else, had despised her from the moment they met at the duke’s estate.
‘Why?’
She never did know the reason. But the truth of it was undeniable.
And now, a disquieting certainty gripped her heart. Elise hadn’t approached Lexion without reason.
Which meant she had to hear their conversation. without a sound, Kyrie slipped into the annex.
The air inside was unnervingly cold, whether by design or by her own growing chill, she couldn’t say.
“Your Highness.”
The closer she drew to the second-floor terrace, the clearer the voices became.
Kyrie held her breath and hid behind a pillar in the hallway.
Her shoulders jolted at what she heard.
“Someone might see us.”
“Let them watch. You’ll be Crown Princess soon. What does it matter?”
“Will you truly send a proposal for me?”
“Of course. You are the perfect Crown Princess.”
