Chapter 19
19
Kiss Me
Kyle led Leila to the terrace overlooking the rose garden. As the boisterous, glamorous atmosphere of the party faded away, Leila finally let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Kyle. Thank you so much.”
Leila leaned against the marble railing and patted her chest in gratitude. Kyle, whom she had expected to smile as always, wore a stiff expression for some reason.
“Kyle?”
“Why are you putting up with it?”
“Huh?”
“They’re treating you like a sideshow, dragging you around everywhere, and you’re just taking it? You, the proud and clever Leila Llewellyn.”
“So what.”
Unlike Kyle, who was uncharacteristically angry, Leila gave a cool smile.
“Not a word of it was wrong. I’m an orphan, I’m in Uncle Bill’s debt, and I’m going to be a teacher.”
“Sometimes I just don’t get you.”
“People are multifaceted by nature, Mr. Etman.”
“You’re always so quick with the clever comebacks.”
Kyle finally let out a reluctant chuckle at Leila’s playful retort.
“Go on now, Kyle. I’m really fine.”
“Go where?”
“You’ve got people to meet here. Friends, too.”
“Nah.”
Kyle waved a hand dismissively, as if it were all a bother, and leaned against the railing beside Leila.
“Don’t be like that…….”
“Leila, I came here tonight as your partner.”
Kyle turned his head slowly. His gray eyes gleamed with a warm light, even in the darkness.
“So I’ll stay by your side.”
A slow smile spread across Kyle’s lips and the corners of his eyes.
“I want to.”
The breeze from the garden carried the sweet scent of roses. Leila pressed her lips together, abandoning whatever she’d been about to say, and toyed with the railing instead.
“Why no answer?”
Kyle prodded her softly. Leila, who’d been staring down at the tip of her pointed shoe, lifted her gaze, now a touch awkward.
“……I don’t know.”
“Suddenly shy in front of me?”
“It’s not that!”
“Your face looks red, though?”
“No!”
Leila touched her cheeks in a fluster, both hands flying up.
“Gotcha.”
Leila deflated into laughter at the sight of Kyle giggling mischievously. It was then that Mrs. Etman, searching the hall for her son, spotted the two on the terrace.
“Kyle. What on earth are you doing here?”
She approached with a heavy sigh.
Leila hastily straightened up and bowed her head in greeting. Mrs. Etman acknowledged it with a brief nod before turning her gaze back to her son.
“There are plenty of people waiting to see you.”
“It’s Father they’re waiting for, not me.”
Kyle flashed a grin, but Mrs. Etman’s eyes only sharpened.
“Kyle Etman, do my words amuse you?”
“Mom, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Come along. Lady Norma’s looking for you. You wouldn’t dream of keeping her waiting, would you?”
Her tone brooked no argument.
“Go on, Kyle.”
Leila, who’d been holding her breath, spoke up cautiously.
Lady Norma of the ducal family doted on the physician’s only son. Leila knew exactly how proud Mrs. Etman was of that fact.
“I’ll wait right here.”
Leila tacked on a bright smile to reassure him.
“Thank you, Leila.”
Mrs. Etman finally smiled at her. Though her gray eyes matched Kyle’s exactly, the look she gave Leila always carried a hint of chill. Leila knew that well, too.
Kyle dragged his feet away reluctantly. Leila waved lightly at him as he kept glancing back.
“Wait!”
Kyle called out, face scrunched in a frown.
“You have to wait for me, Leila!”
Yeah.
She wanted to answer brightly, but her lips wouldn’t part. All Leila could manage was to smile wider and wave more vigorously.
Once Kyle and Mrs. Etman were gone, the terrace fell peaceful again. Music and laughter drifted from the hall, mingling with the beautiful glow of the lights to create a languid charm. Without her glasses, the lights blurred into a haze—but that only made the scene feel more dreamlike and enchanting.
Leila Llewellyn’s role was over.
Leila sighed in relief, marveling at it all with childlike wonder. Her mind at ease, she finally took in her unfamiliar reflection.
She shifted her legs just a little, and the ribbon at her waist fluttered along with the hem of her dress. In a playful mood, Leila rose onto her tiptoes and settled back down again and again, watching the full skirt ripple like waves.
The white gown, embroidered with golden thread, was as lovely as the night itself. The fabric felt so soft against her skin that for the first moments, it had tickled her all over.
And the necklace.
Leila touched it quietly, her shy smile fading.
Why had Lady Brandt said such a thing?
Perhaps it was refined disdain and pity. But Leila didn’t care. Uncle Bill’s gift was dazzlingly beautiful to her. No matter what anyone else said, that was enough.
When Leila looked up with a smile again, a tall man emerged onto the terrace. Her face lit up, thinking it was Kyle—then froze solid.
It was Duke Herhardt. Lady Brandt was with him.
“The night air is so crisp, isn’t it?”
Claudine drew in a deep breath and beamed. She’d led Mathias out here with such brazen nonchalance, as if the breeze truly were the only reason.
“I love summer nights—they’re so beautiful. And you, Duke Herhardt?”
Claudine rested a light hand on the marble railing and smiled radiantly. Her gaze had left Mathias’s face entirely, fixed now on her true purpose: Leila Llewellyn, standing at the terrace’s far end.
“I don’t care much for summer, my lady.”
Mathias halted at Claudine’s side. The gaze he’d fixed on the blooming rose garden flicked briefly over Leila’s face. She looked utterly flustered and on edge at these uninvited guests.
“Oh? I could’ve sworn you liked summer, Duke.”
Claudine now faced Mathias squarely, her back to Leila.
“Now that I think about it, you’re such an impassive man, Duke Herhardt. Not that I mean it as a criticism, mind you?”
Hands clasped behind her back, Claudine stepped even closer. They were now near enough to feel each other’s breath.
“Truth be told, I like that impassiveness of yours. That poised demeanor, never swayed by joy or sorrow—it’s so aristocratic, so refined.”
“I’m glad it meets with your approval, my lady.”
Mathias held his ground, meeting her eyes.
“Kiss me.”
Claudine stared straight at him and made her bold demand. Mathias regarded her in silence.
“I do like the impassive Duke Herhardt, but surely we need at least a spark of passion between us?”
Claudine tilted her head, her thickly curled brown locks bouncing with elastic grace.
“For an engagement. For a marriage. For a lifetime together.”
“A minimum of passion…….”
Mathias narrowed his eyes for a moment, then gave a small nod of assent.
“A fair point.”
Without hesitation or reluctance, Mathias cupped Claudine’s cheek. She looked faintly startled but soon closed her eyes as if it were the most natural thing.
Gazing at the shadow of her long lashes, Mathias’s eyes drifted—unbidden—to the terrace’s opposite end. Leila, who’d been pacing anxiously in place, looked up at him right then.
Holding Leila’s gaze unwaveringly, Mathias lowered his lips slowly to Claudine’s.
The audience Claudine had wanted—Leila Llewellyn—played her part to perfection. She stood rigid and frozen, staring at them in a daze. Even the distance and the dark failed to hide the scarlet flush staining the woman’s cheeks.
Throughout that restrained kiss, Mathias’s eyes never left Leila. Her green eyes met his, helpless and paralyzed, as innocent as they’d been that moonlit night.
Only when Leila finally looked away did the chaste kiss end. As Claudine slowly opened her eyes, a curious smile tugged at her lips—and Leila bolted down the stairs to the garden.
“Shall we?”
Mathias extended his hand with perfect courtesy. Claudine took it casually, as if nothing at all had happened.
“I’m certain of it, Duke Herhardt.”
Claudine smiled as they reached the hall doors.
“Certain that we’ll make a fine couple.”
Leila raced down the stairs in a blind panic. She knew full well they wouldn’t follow, yet her feet flew faster still.
The sharp click of her heels echoed through the silent night garden, shaking its stillness. Only at the grand central fountain did Leila finally stop. As she gasped for breath, the foot pain she’d forgotten in her flight came roaring back.
“Ah…….”
She slipped off one shoe and grimaced with a sigh. Her feet—tormented by the stiff new heels—were scratched and raw. Her heel was skinned bloody. She longed to dash straight to the cottage like this, but in the end, Leila turned back.
She’d promised Kyle she’d wait. The least she could do was leave word before slipping away first. Yet the thought of returning to that brilliantly lit mansion—that strange, stifling world—filled her with dread.
After agonizing over it, Leila limped down the path to the right. It led to the rose arbor. She’d wait there in the garden, then head back to the mansion once Kyle returned.
But… could she sit?
Leila eyed the bench uncertainly. She’d helped Uncle Bill prune and tend those rose vines with such care, but she’d never lingered beneath them. Servants weren’t permitted.
Tonight, though, she was a guest at Arbis. Surely that made it all right?
Only after endless deliberation did Leila perch gingerly on the bench’s edge. Removing her shoes took even more courage—and time.
Leila leaned back against the armrest, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her throbbing feet met the cool marble, and the pain ebbed slightly. Pretty shoes were pure poison for the feet. She couldn’t fathom putting them back on.
If only she hadn’t run, her heel might’ve been spared.
Leila brushed the sorest wound with gentle fingertips. A sudden memory made her flinch sharply.
The image of that man—Duke Herhardt—kissing his fiancée while staring straight at her soured her face on instinct. Claudine accepting it so casually, fully aware of the other presence, was just as baffling.
“What the hell are they playing at?”
Leila muttered to herself, rubbing her lips absently.
“……Disgraceful.”
This time she scrubbed harder with the back of her hand, even the inner side—as if she could erase the memory and sensation from that frozen moment, the one that had flickered back to her from that bright moonlit night.
