Chapter 38
If the promise is destined to break anyway…
Dominique let out a sigh anew, glancing at Kyrie before aligning the tip of his polished shoes with her small feet.
“One wonders how such feet could even mount a saddle.”
Still, on reflection, purchasing the horse had been a wise decision.
The Haswell estate lay at a considerable distance, and Dominique believed any rightful heir to such a place should learn to ride early.
“Assuming, of course, she bears me an heir healthy enough to ride.”
The woman’s body was still so delicate. He stifled the sigh that threatened to escape, pressing his lips together instead.
“How on earth does she even endure me?”
With a body like that, it seemed miraculous she could accommodate him at all.
“Perhaps that’s why…”
It might explain why he kept betraying an odd softness toward her.
“So, what did you think? I imagine the capital’s dating courses must’ve bored you.”
“Not at all. I hadn’t been to any of them before. They were quite pleasant.”
“You hadn’t?”
“Outside the imperial palace and the duke’s manor, I’d never had the chance.”
He had asked for her thoughts after their first date, intending it to be their last, and had received that unexpected reply. And so, their outings continued, one after another.
“There was still work to be done in that area anyway.”
Taking advantage of loosened surveillance, Dominique used the pretense of dates to meet with allies. There were many such encounters Kyrie could not be present for.
Yet each time he returned from such meetings, he would find her standing quietly, waiting. Her blue eyes, always full of curiosity, wandering the surroundings, it stirred something in him.
She might never have realized, but whenever he took her somewhere new, a spark of youthful wonder, so befitting a young noblewoman, would flicker in her gaze.
And when those eyes, seemingly waiting, turned to him…
Eventually, Dominique found himself caring less for his secret meetings and more for their time together. Seeing those eyes look only at him made it impossible not to give her everything.
It was for that reason, in the end, that he bought her the horse, in preparation for their journey to the estate.
“Truly brazen.”
While Dominique thought thus, Kyrie bit her lip, seemingly lost in thought. A hint of anxiety shadowed her face.
The Grand Duke gently brushed her lower lip, redirecting the conversation.
“Are you nervous?”
Kyrie turned to face him at the question.
“Nervous?”
She spoke as if the question were incomprehensible. The Grand Duke shrugged.
“You looked the part. If the ball is burdensome, ”
Coming from someone who paraded her about the gossip-hungry crowds every weekend in the name of ‘dates,’ it was quite the ironic concern.
“Do I seem like someone who’d get nervous over such a thing?”
“If not nervous, then tired?”
“Tired, again?”
“You’re tired every day.”
“That’s because of you… no, never mind.”
Kyrie diverted the topic before the conversation turned to how he pushed her physically every night. If it did, he’d only tease her again.
“What about you, Your Grace? Aren’t you tired?”
“Hm.”
“Didn’t you personally oversee my preparations?”
She glanced down at her dress, far more splendid than the original. The crashing-wave blue gown sparkled more radiantly than ever, thanks to his meddling.
“The maids must have been on the verge of collapse.”
The Grand Duke had stood in the corner of the toilette room, calmly observing the entire process. Whenever something displeased him, he’d have it replaced, jewelry, fabrics, even entire accessories.
Kyrie chuckled, recalling the tense maids, whose every move was filled with dread.
The moment they realized she was more lenient and composed than expected, their shoulders had dropped with relief, only for the Grand Duke to transform the atmosphere into a battlefield.
Despite the tension, the outcome had been nothing short of spectacular.
Even the boutique madam, once teetering on the edge of ruin after a poor review from the Crown Prince, would likely find herself resurrected by this dress alone.
Kyrie glanced at the Grand Duke, inwardly clicking her tongue.
“At this rate, you ought to be exhausted.”
“Hardly. Do you think something so minor could wear me out?”
“…No.”
“Then what of you? You’re not tired, you say?”
Clearly goading her, likely referencing their nightly encounters again, his mischievous tone made Kyrie retort defiantly.
“No. I’m not nervous, and I’m not tired.”
“So our park strolls served their purpose?”
“How very belated of you to say.”
She answered with intentional brusqueness. He smirked, one of those crooked smiles she’d come to know.
His fingers reached out slowly, brushing against the rim of her ear.
“So, you’re mentally prepared.”
“There’s no reason I wouldn’t be.”
“Then I suppose… I can pierce them now.”
As he pressed down on her earlobe and retrieved a satin case from his pocket, Kyrie let out a long sigh.
Even after their visit to the jeweler and all their outings, her ears had remained unpierced. Neither the shop assistants nor the manor’s maids had dared pierce her ears in his presence.
Not that the Grand Duke would have grown angry.
“How peculiar.”
While Kyrie mused thus, the Grand Duke opened the case.
“It cannot be delayed any further.”
“……”
“They’re the only thing out of place.”
Indeed, she had been adorned from head to toe, yet her ears alone were bare.
The diamond necklace encircling her slender white neck like a net, the sapphire bracelets coiling up her arms like serpents, against all this, the empty ears stood out all the more.
“As you wish, ah!”
Without warning, the Grand Duke drove the earring post through her lobe. Kyrie’s brows knit together in pain.
“…Nngh.”
A sharp sting followed the clean puncture.
It felt even more acute than when she had clumsily pierced her own ears as a debutante. Back then, a minor infection had left her bedridden for days, yet she had smiled through it all for appearances’ sake.
“Compared to that…”
Though this was done with practiced hands, the pain felt strangely vivid.
The crimson dot that welled up on her pale lobe was dabbed away casually with a white handkerchief, its color making the stain stark and blatant.
Kyrie grimaced at the sight. The Grand Duke, watching her expression, let a crooked smile play on his lips.
“You’ve endured far worse… and more than once.”
“And every time you say such things, I question whether you’re truly a Grand Duke, or some street scoundrel.”
“Just as I wonder if you’re a proper duchess or society’s mad dog?”
He answered coolly, wiping away the last of the blood behind her ear.
As he touched the tender lobe, still burning like a fresh spark, the earring’s weight and ornate beauty settled heavily upon her.
“It suits you perfectly.”
With those words, he retrieved the second earring. Kyrie closed her eyes, ignoring the chill running up her spine.
His breath, his fingers so close, it all felt overwhelmingly warm.
𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆🌷͙⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
Eventually, the two arrived at the ballroom after lingering still longer on the road.
“We’ve arrived, Your Grace,” the coachman called out.
At once, the imperial attendants approached to open the carriage door.
“Welcome, Duke Haswell. Welcome, Duchess.”
The Duke stepped down first, dipping his head in acknowledgment, then extended his hand toward Kyrie.
Feigning politeness, Kyrie placed her hand in his, only to scrape her nails lightly across his palm in quiet revenge for the unexpected piercing earlier.
Though the sting had long subsided and the wound was trivial at best, a subtle phantom heat still lingered. The Duke merely snorted in response.
The moment they stepped from the carriage, eyes turned from every corner. Yet while many glanced out of curiosity, few dared approach. Kyrie entered the hall on the Duke’s arm.
“Presenting His Grace, Dominique Roman Haswell, First Duke of Haswell, and Her Grace, Kyrie, Duchess of Haswell!”
The herald’s cry drew attention again. Eyes from every corner shifted to them, ladies behind fans, their gazes sharp with appraisal, and gentlemen who coughed conspicuously as they stole glances.
She spotted several young ladies whispering furiously while eyeing her dress and jewels, sparks of envy and disdain flaring in their expressions like flint striking steel.
‘Familiar, isn’t it.’
Kyrie smiled a touch deeper. The heat of the Duke’s hand in hers was steady.
In this battlefield called society, having him by her side brought a surprising sense of calm. When his tall frame shielded her from others’ sightlines, a quiet relief settled in, one she couldn’t quite deny.
Time passed as they stood within the hall. A soft waltz for the guests began to flow from the musicians. Kyrie hesitated, wondering whether she ought to ask him for a dance.
‘He would dance, if I asked…’
But would he think it necessary?
As she hesitated,
“Your Grace. My lady.”
Someone approached with a respectful bow.
