Chapter 32
No.
Kyrie hastily corrected herself.
He probably just enjoys sleeping around with women.
Thanks to that, the nelion flowers she had rushed to fetch from the greenhouse were running low again.
Suppressing the edge of unease she felt, Kyrie replied casually.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already kept a few mistresses on the side.”
After all, among nobles, it was hardly uncommon.
Even the Crown Prince Lexion, who now acted as though he were utterly smitten with Elise, had left a trail of ruined young ladies behind him. No one knew that better than Kyrie.
But the Grand Duke only looked more displeased.
“I see no point in indulging in such vulgar behavior.”
He lowered his hand to grip her waist, then slowly moved it to her lower abdomen. His touch was light, lingering against her skin like a ghost of heat.
It felt almost… possessive.
As though this single body was all he needed.
“There’s no reason to keep a mistress and risk creating some useless bastard child.”
At his blunt words, the breath left Kyrie’s lungs. He spoke with a cold clarity that left no room for misunderstanding.
“Such things are nothing but fodder for attacks.”
“Attacks?”
“Yes. Attacks.”
She didn’t need to ask from whom.
The pressure Haswell faced from the Emperor was on another level entirely, something no other noble family had to endure.
Looking back, it was probably the reason he had agreed to this marriage in the first place.
He could keep others if he wanted…
But he chose not to, solely to avoid giving his enemies ammunition.
Not because she was precious to him.
As Kyrie reached that bitter conclusion in silence, the Grand Duke went on, expression unreadable.
“That’s why I intend to plant my seed in only one woman, my wife.”
“……”
“I have no need for anyone else.”
A strange chill prickled up her arms. He was staring at her belly with such intensity, as if just by looking, the heir he desired would materialize before his eyes.
Kyrie instinctively tensed beneath his gaze, then managed to speak.
“…If you truly respect me as your equal, ”
“Yes?”
“You wouldn’t barge into a lady’s toilette room while she’s being dressed.”
She hadn’t meant to say it. After all, theirs was a marriage in name only, what difference did it make what he thought of her?
She wouldn’t be wounded just because he saw her more as a mistress than a wife.
Still, since the subject had come up, she felt she might as well get it out.
“And you certainly wouldn’t keep calling me ‘young lady’ in front of the maids.”
“That’s what’s bothering you?”
It was one thing when they were alone. But to address her like that in front of others, that created a problem.
If this doesn’t look like a proper marriage to the outside world, that’s dangerous.
The thought made Kyrie anxious.
If someone tries to claim the marriage is invalid…
She knew it was probably just paranoia, but the path to this wedding had already been so rocky.
And if anyone could be petty enough to act out of revenge, especially someone like Lexion…
“There’s one person I must convince above all others: His Majesty the Emperor.”
She ended her statement firmly.
Dominique tilted his head and said:
“You’re not wrong.”
He sounded like someone genuinely surprised to have been corrected. That, more than anything, caught Kyrie off guard.
Only now did Dominique seem to realize just how often he had called her “young lady.” He rubbed his jaw, thoughtful.
He’d been so worked up at the wedding that he’d called her “wife” a few times then, but still…
There are moments when she looks more like a feisty girl than a married woman.
Especially when she narrowed her eyes and shot him that sharp glare. She likely thought she looked intimidating.
To Dominique, she looked more like a puffed-up kitten, bristling, trying her best to act fierce.
Still…
He recalled how satisfying it had been to call her “Grand Duchess” in front of Lexion and see the prince’s face twist in irritation.
And when he’d whispered “wife” while moving inside her…
Yes. That had felt good.
“Wife,” he said now, suddenly, as if to test it.
Kyrie flinched.
Clearly, she was recalling the same moment.
So Dominique smiled and said again, “Yes. Wife.”
“……”
“Does that satisfy you?”
“…‘Grand Duchess’ will do.”
“Isn’t that a bit too cold?”
Smirking, Dominique circled behind her and began fastening the buttons of the dress the maids had left half-done.
“You specifically asked me to use a warmer, more affectionate title.”
“I never said that…”
“Didn’t you beg me to make it look like we’re truly married?”
At the word “beg,” Kyrie’s eyes narrowed again.
Dominique, amused, suddenly ran his hand up her bare back, under the open dress.
He could feel her body tense beneath his touch.
She must think I’m about to undress her again.
And honestly, he couldn’t say the idea didn’t appeal to him.
His gaze dropped.
The pale skin between her shoulder blades still bore traces of last night, marks he’d left.
Feigning innocence, Dominique continued buttoning her dress, letting his fingers brush over each faint mark.
He leaned in close, his lips grazing her temple.
“Wife,” he whispered.
Her ear turned red. Ripe cherry red.
It made him curious, what would it taste like if he took it between his lips?
But instead, Dominique leaned away, feigning nonchalance.
“Yes. ‘Wife’ sounds much better than ‘Grand Duchess.’”
“…Do as you please.”
Her response was cool, almost curt.
Dominique, gazing at her flushed ear lit softly by the morning sun, murmured:
“You were the one who asked me to use a tender title. Are you unhappy now?”
“…No.”
“Then what will you call me?”
“……”
“‘Husband’? That sounds too stiff. How about ‘my Dominique’?”
“Enough with the jokes.”
“I was serious. You wound me.”
Despite her frosty tone, Dominique only laughed and fastened the last button. In an instant, she looked composed again.
The dress she wore was an outdated piece from the manor’s storage, dull enough to make her seem austere.
Dominique clicked his tongue, resisting the urge to rip the damn thing off.
She hardly brought anything with her.
The Ehrenberg family had packed next to nothing when sending her off to the convent. Most of it had been burned along the way after that bandit attack.
Realizing that, Dominique made a sudden decision, something impulsive, rare for a man who usually lived by strict schedules.
Normally, such disruptions would irritate him.
But today, he felt oddly light.
Wife. Just that one word had made everything better.
“Come on.”
With a satisfied smile, Dominique held out his hand to Kyrie. She looked confused.
“Now that you’re dressed, let’s go.”
“Go where?”
His wife blinked at him in surprise.
Dominique’s eyes sparkled.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
“Not bad.”
“……”
Several hours later, Kyrie stood in the middle of the boutique, utterly exhausted. The madam and her staff looked no better, just as worn out as she was.
“Yes, indeed, Lady Erenbe– oh, pardon, I mean, Your Grace the Grand Duchess.”
“You look absolutely lovely in that.”
Even in their clearly fatigued state, they still managed to shower her with syrupy compliments.
Kyrie found it oddly impressive how quickly they could switch from passive aggression to professional flattery.
“Funny,” she thought, “considering how they were scratching at me the moment I walked in.”
From the moment she had entered the boutique alongside the Grand Duke, several employees had made no attempt to hide their curiosity, or their barely veiled malice.
One of them, while helping her change dresses, had even “accidentally” scratched her with a fingernail. Another had pulled out a strand of her hair while fixing her style.
“Oh, I’m so sorry…”
And when Kyrie turned to look at them, they bowed their heads with mechanical apologies, claiming it had been a mistake, secretly hoping, no doubt, that she would explode like the rumors said she would.
“They must think I seduced the Grand Duke by playing the innocent for some nobleman who doesn’t know his way around the capital.”
She wasn’t surprised.
It wasn’t hard to guess what was being said behind her back these days.
Half of it came from her own familiarity with high society.
The other half came from that absurd letter Johansson had sent her recently, full of ridiculous gossip and venom.
“What did it say again…?”
Something about the entire Empire now whispering that the mad dog of Ehrenberg, desperate to avoid the convent, had shamelessly thrown herself at the Grand Duke, after flirting with the Crown Prince no less, and had used her body to seduce him into marriage.
Kyrie smiled dryly as she recalled that line, imagining Johansson’s furious scowl as he had scribbled it out.
