Chapter 34
In truth, Dominique was rather displeased.
How dare they.
Kyrie Erenberg was his mad dog. From the moment they were wed, she had become part of him, his possession.
So if anyone was going to mark her or wound her, it could only be him.
He was well aware of the rumors that clung to his unruly bride. In fact, he had even allowed some of them to spread unchecked. But that was separate from letting someone actually harm her.
His voice turned cold, slipping into sarcasm.
“I heard this was the finest boutique in the capital.”
“……”
“Seems one shouldn’t trust everything they hear.”
Without waiting for a reply, Dominique held out his hand to Kyrie, as if to say they’d seen enough and it was time to go. The madam, white-faced, cried out in desperation.
“P-please, allow us a chance to redeem ourselves!”
The madam was desperate. After all, their client was the first Grand Duke. A boutique that earned such scathing disapproval from someone of his rank wouldn’t survive for long.
Sensing the shift, the other staff followed suit, bowing their heads deeply.
“Please, grant us another chance!”
“We beg you, Your Grace!”
Kyrie, watching this, felt a quiet shock settle in her chest.
‘Wasn’t that supposed to be my tantrum to throw…?’
But the thought didn’t linger long. Dominique, who had been glaring at the bowing staff with ice-cold eyes, slowly turned to her.
“What do you say, my lady?”
“…You’re asking me?”
‘Why is he asking me? Shouldn’t this be his decision?’
A soft but firm hand tilted her chin upward.
“You were the one insulted.”
“……”
“So the decision is yours, my lady.”
Wasn’t it to his benefit that she be humiliated? Was he now drawing the line, only tolerating offense from nobles, not common shopkeepers?
She wanted to ask, but the question stuck in her throat.
No one had ever asked her before, what she wanted to do with those who humiliated her.
This was a first.
Her lips parted, then closed again. She hurried to school her expression. Dominique alone wore the faintest of smiles in that frigid air.
That smile lingered stubbornly in her mind.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
When they finally exited the boutique, Kyrie wore the madam’s masterpiece.
The staff, now fearful of so much as grazing her skin, had dressed her with trembling hands, every touch careful, their attitudes transformed.
It took nearly twice as long to fit her into this one gown as it had to try on the last ten. By the time the work was done, Kyrie was thoroughly drained.
She stepped into the center of the fitting room, standing before a towering mirror, and all who saw her fell into stunned silence.
Even at the height of her notoriety, when she was infamous as the “mad dog,” none had dared deny that Kyrie was a renowned beauty. She could carry even the most extravagant outfit with grace.
But back then, it had felt more like she was playing a part than wearing clothes that suited her.
Now, tailored precisely to her shape, meticulously styled and groomed. Not Kyrie Ehrenberg, but Kyrie Haswell stood there.
“…You look beautiful.”
The madam murmured softly, her tone tangled in conflicting emotions. There was a hint of defeat in her face, offended that her finest creation had gone to someone she’d scorned… yet also proud, as an artist, that her masterpiece had found the right wearer.
Kyrie, too, had to admit it, the dress was stunning.
So different from the past, when she had scrambled to buy anything flashy or expensive before someone else stole it first. Then, she had never truly had a choice.
This dress… suited her. And more importantly, she had chosen it.
It felt strange.
This kind of gown…
This was the sort of dress a lover might gift his beloved, not something offered out of politeness to a contractual spouse.
And Dominique, who had confronted the staff on her behalf when she’d stayed silent…
‘You asked to be treated like a wife, her thoughts whispered. Is this him… actually trying?’
She turned her face up toward him, trying to read his expression.
Dominique, seeing her puzzled gaze, answered with a calm voice.
“Is something wrong?”
“…No.”
Still wearing that unreadable look, he offered her his arm and escorted her down the boutique’s hallway.
As they left, Kyrie glanced back. Through the slightly ajar door, she saw the madam speaking harshly to the staff, her face twisted with fury.
Good, Kyrie thought.
While she’d been changing, Dominique had approached the staff member who was clearing the shattered glass.
“Make sure the dresses I ordered arrive at the Grand Duke’s estate on time.”
“Of course, Your Grace. You needn’t worry.”
“And the one the Grand Duchess wore here, throw it out.”
“Pardon? But Her Grace asked that it be altered and returned…”
Kyrie had made that request because she guessed the dress had once belonged to Dominique’s mother, the former Grand Duchess. She’d hesitated to discard it, even if it had been ruined.
But Dominique stared coldly down at the kneeling staff member.
He remembered her. She had mocked Kyrie the most, bringing the ugliest dresses and giggling behind her back.
Keeping his eyes fixed on her, Dominique addressed the madam standing nearby.
“Useless things should be discarded quickly, shouldn’t they?”
“…Yes, Your Grace.”
“I don’t take kindly to advice.”
The experienced madam understood the warning perfectly. He wasn’t just talking about old dresses. He was saying: Get rid of the dead weight, or I will.
“Yes, of course. You’re absolutely right.”
The staff member, now ghost-pale, began to tremble.
She likely wouldn’t be returning to the boutique.
Dominique didn’t care about the details.
What mattered was that the air felt cleaner now, settled.
His foul mood from seeing Kyrie hurt had lightened. And when he saw her again, radiant in the madam’s masterpiece, it lifted even further.
“Sapphire. That’s the gem you’ll wear.”
“……”
“You’ll wear this dress to the banquet as well.”
“…This one?”
Kyrie looked up at him, clearly unconvinced. But Dominique remained firm.
“Yes. I’ll inform the maids.”
Each time she moved, the hem of the gown flowed like water, scattering blue light in waves. The soft silk whispered like the sea, gliding with her steps.
Her silver hair was laced with pearls, each strand arranged so delicately it resembled ocean foam caught in sunlight.
The shimmering beads glinted like the sparkle of white sand beneath moonlight.
Not bad at all.
The sight pleased him. It was enough to stand and watch her as if he were admiring a work of art.
Even if it wasn’t the original plan…
At first, he’d brought her here to dress her like a jester, garish, overdone. A spectacle.
If she played the fool at the banquet, it would send a clear message: the Haswell duchy had not secured a proper mistress.
In high society, the role of a lady of the house was nearly as vital as her husband’s. A household with a flawed duchess was seen as unstable, vulnerable to isolation.
That was what Dominique had hoped for.
He wanted people to see the Haswell line as broken, no longer worth fearing, no longer worth watching.
And those I need to sway in the capital are already playing their parts nicely.
If his wife caused a scene at the banquet, all the better.
But the moment he saw her in that dress, his thoughts shifted.
That deep blue… it reminded him of her eyes.
When she was defiant, they were pale. But when she softened in his arms, they glowed like the ocean at dusk.
And when he kissed her, when she kissed him back, they darkened, pulling him into their depths like the sea’s abyss.
On a whim, Dominique made another decision.
“Shall we visit the jeweler first? Or dine?”
“Dine?”
“You need to eat.”
“……”
“And you’ll need the stamina. A walk should help with that.”
She was still too weak.
At night, when she took him into her body, she rarely lasted more than a few hours before exhaustion overtook her. The next day, she could hardly rise from bed.
That wouldn’t do, not if he wanted an heir.
“Central Park should be suitable.”
It was a purely practical comment.
Still, when he saw the faint confusion in her eyes, it amused him, though he couldn’t explain why.
Kyrie hesitated, her lips moving slightly before she finally spoke.
“Your Grace… don’t take this the wrong way, but… are you…”
He tilted his head.
“Am I…?”
“Are you… asking me on a date?”