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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: The Art Salon
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✵ ✵ ✵
Another four days passed.
The butler worked tirelessly to completely remold me. When teaching me table manners, in particular, he began treating me less like a human and more like a dog.
‘Now, you hold it like this. Go on, try it! That’s it, that’s it!’
‘Oh, wonderful! Our madam is doing so well!’
‘If you get this right, I’ll give you some lemon mousse!’
After Eric told him not to be too harsh with my education, the butler changed his approach, luring me with carrots instead of sticks.
What a terrifying man, the kind you’d have nightmares about…
Still, thanks to him, I was beginning to absorb the manners of high society. It was almost frightening to see myself acting so elegant at every meal.
And so, the day of the art salon finally arrived.
A famous designer the butler had commissioned brought a dress tailored perfectly to my body.
It was a deep navy, off-the-shoulder gown. Its elegant, yet potentially dull, design was enlivened by gold embroidery scattered throughout.
I gazed at the gold thread and asked.
“By the way, this thread… would it fetch a good price if I sold it?”
“…Young Madam!”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”
Although, I was genuinely curious if it was real gold plating.
As Nina listened to the butler and me bickering, she generously applied fragrant oil to my mutt-like hair, pinning half of it up and letting the rest fall loose.
Once my hair was done, the butler, who had been grumbling the whole time, smacked his lips and cleared his throat.
“You look… presentable.”
What’s with him? His face is even a little red.
When I furrowed my brow and glanced at Nina, she moved a lock of hair from my shoulder and whispered.
“He means you look pretty, Young Madam. There are only men in the ducal estate, so they’re a bit clumsy with their expressions. The Young Lord will be the same, so please don’t be too disappointed.”
I looked at my reflection in the mirror.
My red, mutt-like hair, usually a source of ridicule, now cascaded in elegant waves. Though I was skinny, the exposure of my straight shoulders and collarbones made me look, even to my own eyes…
I twitched an eyebrow.
“This is more than just ‘pretty,’ isn’t it?”
I spun around to face the butler.
“Honestly, I look drop-dead gorgeous, don’t I?”
Nina giggled and stepped back. The butler chuckled.
“You truly are something… but for today, I’ll admit it. You look drop-dead gorgeous.”
The butler gave me a thumbs-up.
I smiled brightly and rose from my seat.
As I went downstairs, I saw Eric standing by the entrance.
He was wearing a navy vest, jacket, and trousers of a similar shade to my dress, likely arranged by the butler. As expected, he was…
‘Tall, so tall.’
I licked my lips like a cat eyeing a fish.
A fish I couldn’t eat, anyway.
His simple attire—a white shirt with a navy vest, jacket, and trousers, accented with a touch of luxury from the buttons and watch chain—beautifully highlighted his natural physique.
‘That inverted triangle… and the inverted triangle-like… what you might call an inverted triangle…’
My eyes were fixed on his back, so broad I wondered how it fit in our marital bed, and the slim waistline that tapered from it.
Moreover, the haggard look he’d had was gone, replaced by a radiant glow on his skin.
‘Why the hell are you sleeping so well?! Huh?!’
For the past few days, Eric had been blatantly sharing the bed with me. Though, he placed a cushion in the middle—
‘If you cross the line…’
‘If I cross, then what?’
‘…I’ll pinch you.’
He’d made such a ridiculous threat.
But last night, I confirmed it was no idle threat.
‘Ouch!’
When I accidentally crossed the line slightly in my sleep, Eric pinched the back of my hand. It didn’t hurt much, but to think he actually did it!
‘…You weren’t sleeping?’
‘I was, but I woke up.’
‘Hey! Even so, is it right for a former knight commander to go around pinching civilians?! Huh?!’
Despite being so on edge that he thought I might pounce on him, he’d been oversleeping lately. I’d often wake up to find his face, lost in slumber, right beside me.
The cute part was that he slept like a true knight, flat on his back and perfectly straight…
But if I so much as touched him, he would wake with a start.
‘…I can’t seem to sleep anywhere else now.’
‘What?’
‘I must have gotten used to you talking in your sleep.’
‘You’re… really something else…’
Such a strange man.
I had been momentarily lost in admiration of Eric’s form before shaking my head to clear my thoughts.
‘Get a grip! This is Eric Orleans! The man who pinches my hand because he’s afraid I’ll attack him!’
Getting hung up on a fake husband will only make things harder for me, that’s for sure!
I should use this art salon to find two or three real lovers. Honestly.
Lately, I’d been spending more and more time secretly watching Eric sleep.
‘…Then covet it.’
It’s because you say things like that!
I was recalling the sound of Eric’s low breathing in my ear when he turned around.
Seeing his hair neatly styled was a different experience from the usual sight of it hastily combed down after training.
It made the strong lines of his dark eyebrows and his high-bridged nose stand out even more clearly.
I’d never thought of Eric as someone with bold features, but that must have been because he only ever showed me his unguarded side, and I’d never seen him so dressed up.
Now I saw it. Eric Orleans was a man who exuded an overwhelmingly powerful aura.
As I stood frozen, gripping the staircase railing, Eric looked up at me and smiled faintly.
‘Oh… my heart.’
Eric spoke.
“You’re beautiful.”
His words were so full of sincerity that I couldn’t even muster the arrogant smile I’d shown the butler. I was petrified.
‘The Young Lord will be the same, so please don’t be too disappointed.’
Nina? Weren’t you the one who told me Eric would be clumsy with his expressions?
I turned to look at Nina with reproachful eyes. She was gazing at Eric and me with a rosy blush, looking even more thrilled than I was.
“What are you doing? Come down.”
Eric kept his smile as he extended a hand to me. His voice was gentle, but…
I couldn’t move at all. My leg muscles were refusing to obey me.
I said to Eric urgently.
“I think I’ve forgotten how to walk down stairs. What do I do?”
“…What are you talking about?”
The smile vanished from Eric’s face. He stared at me blankly for a moment, then, as if deciding it couldn’t be helped, he walked up the stairs.
He took my hand. The rings on our fingers clinked together.
“Why can’t you walk? Are you hurt somewhere?”
“My heart…”
Eric narrowed his eyes.
“You’re not about to say your heart hurts because I’m too beautiful, are you?”
“He knows full well he’s gorgeous.”
As I muttered this, Eric’s ears turned bright red. He gritted his teeth and said.
“…Now, left foot first.”
Eric placed my hand on his arm and then called out the steps.
“Left foot.”
“…”
“Left foot.”
“…”
“That was your right foot.”
“I told you, my feet aren’t listening to me.”
I grumbled, clutching the hem of my dress tightly. Then I looked Eric up and down and said.
“I think you’re prettier than me.”
“Not a chance. You’re prettier.”
Eric said it so casually. Once we were at the bottom of the stairs, he took my hand.
The word ‘pretty’ kept echoing in my ears, making me avert my gaze as I said.
“S-So, this ridiculously expensive dress was worth it, right?”
Eric frowned.
“…I suppose.”
I suppose? What’s that supposed to mean?
Does he not know how much money was poured into this dress?
As Eric helped me into the carriage, I asked him.
“Are you saying you don’t like this dress? It’s a really expensive one.”
“Honestly, all dresses look the same to me.”
I barely managed to swallow the curse that was about to escape my lips.
And it was a good thing I did. Otherwise, I would have missed what Eric said next.
“The one I called beautiful was you. Not the dress.”
“Nina definitely said the Young Lord was clumsy with his expressions.”
As I mumbled, Eric said.
“Does it take expressiveness to just state what I see?”
My jaw dropped.
This. This is what women usually call expressiveness!
‘Forget a naive young master, isn’t he a complete rogue?’
✵ ✵ ✵
The carriage soon arrived at the art salon.
I had attended many social gatherings in the capital with my mother, but this was my first time at an art salon.
Was it a sort of forum for artistic discussion?
The art salon was structured like a coffee house, with tables set up but most of the chairs removed, so everyone stood around looking at the paintings on the walls.
Some stood before a painting for a long time, absorbed in appreciation, while others gathered at tables, smoking cigars or chatting.
Of course, there were also those who were just there to drink.
‘The art salon is a place for cultural exchange. Here, you must have a basic level of knowledge to participate in conversations!’
I had heard the butler’s explanation, but seeing it in person was even more intimidating.
The social gatherings I had attended before usually followed a set order: some small talk, a long meal, and then drinks after the meal. But the art salon seemed to have no such rules.
The absence of rules meant freedom, but for a novice like me, it also meant that if I didn’t act with discernment, I wouldn’t be able to fit in anywhere. After all, there was no rule that said they had to include a beginner.
“Good evening, Young Lord Eric. Good evening, Madam Imeline.”
Everyone greeted Eric and me warmly, but the conversations never lasted long.
“…So you’re saying you’re not interested in Belle Nouveau architecture?”
Belle Nouveau…
Ugh… that blasted butler only taught me about painting movements! Why are they talking about architectural styles here?
“Architecture? Uh… you mean, like, building houses, right? I like houses, too. A white house on a hill…”
As I spouted such nonsense, Eric quickly came to my aid.
“We’re thinking of building another country house, and we plan to use the Belle Nouveau style. That’s what my wife is referring to.”
“Ah, I see.”
Eric helped me splendidly, but the other person had already sized me up. They looked me up and down with an air of subtle contempt, exchanged another word or two with Eric, and then disappeared.
“…Damn it…”
I said, bringing the champagne flute in my hand to my lips. Eric took the glass from me.
“Trying to drink again?”
“It wasn’t because of the alcohol that day. I can hold my liquor.”
“Regardless, don’t drink. You’re publicly pregnant.”
Ah, right. Rose…
I fiddled with my stomach and smacked my lips.
“But what can I do if I’m craving a drink… Because of me, it looks like our Young Lord won’t get to talk to anyone either.”
I looked around with a disgruntled expression. Everyone else seemed to be engaged in productive conversations, while Eric and I were left out of every mainstream discussion.
Eric shook his head and said.
“I was never one for that kind of chatter anyway. Why have you suddenly become so obsessed with social gatherings? It’s necessary to manage our reputation to some extent, but you can’t force it.”
“Since I found out that our reputation almost derailed the plans of you and the princess?”
Eric’s expression hardened.
I had only realized a few days ago that after the rumors of us being ‘Ella’s lovers’ spread, not just the newspapers but even the staff at the ducal estate had started talking about how the princess might be pushed back in the line of succession during the upcoming council meeting.
It seemed the ripple effects of our fraudulent marriage were growing stronger than I’d thought.
‘Of course, rumors tend to be exaggerated, but…’
“In any case, that means ending this fake marriage will also become a distant prospect, right?”
“You seem eager to end this fake marriage quickly.”
Eric looked at me intently. For a moment, I read his expression.
For some reason… he looked displeased…
Why?
