The Duke of Hermont’s Male Mistress
Chapter 3
The match began. Natalie drove Vitor back with fierce momentum.
Her hand was solid and her grip immense—more than enough to take down an ordinary man without breaking a sweat.
Puzzled, Vitor spoke in a voice meant only for her ears.
“Have you done some sort of physical training? That’s not the kind of strength you build just carrying beer mugs.”
“You’re underestimating tavern servers. Anyone can manage this much if they’re carrying five beer bottles in each hand day in and day out.”
“Do beer bottles give you calluses on your palms these days?”
The woman flinched. It was a fleeting flicker of tension, subtle enough that only Vitor, their skin pressed together, could have felt it.
Vitor’s gaze swept calmly over her. Up close, she had not only calluses but countless minor scars scattered across her body.
Her shoulders and forearms bore a scattering of scars large and small. The rough marks etched into her soft curves struck him with a strange allure.
Yet, woman or not, he had no intention of throwing the match on purpose. She possessed strength that could easily be called monstrous, but she had chosen the wrong opponent.
It was no match for the power of a soldier forged by years of grueling training.
When her efforts failed to yield any ground no matter how hard she pushed, she spoke with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“And what is it you do, sir?”
“Take a guess.”
Having regained his composure, Vitor replied with a smile.
“You certainly seem like a noble, but…”
Yet he hardly carried the delicate, purely refined air of an ordinary nobleman. A flicker of suspicion showed in her eyes.
Watching her agonize over something so trivial coaxed a spontaneous chuckle from him.
“Could it be our noble young master indulges in a secret hobby behind his elders’ backs?”
“Like what?”
“Something like martial arts… It’s all the rage among young nobles these days.”
“Ah, martial arts.”
Vitor finally let out the laugh he had been holding back. Chuckling low, he allowed the back of his hand to fall against the table as if his strength had suddenly given out.
“Well, something like that.”
Leaving a smile behind, Vitor stepped away from the table. Alan, who had been watching from behind, cried out in disbelief.
“What?! You lost for real? Are you kidding me?”
Vitor shrugged.
“No. She’s strong.”
“Don’t give me that! There’s no way she’s stronger than you! You let her win on purpose, didn’t you? I told you not to go easy just because she’s a woman! Do it again!”
“He’s right. Let’s go again.”
A resolute voice cut in. Natalie was glaring at him with a look of indignation. Even though she had won, she didn’t look pleased in the least.
“I’d been arm wrestling non-stop, so I couldn’t put my full strength into it. Let’s go again with the other hand.”
Had she realized he had feigned defeat? She could have just savored her victory in peace. It seemed she possessed far too much pointless pride.
Not that Vitor had any reason to indulge her stubbornness. Impressive as her strength was for a woman, he already knew she was no match for him, and a contest with a predetermined victor held no interest for him.
That was why he had changed his mind midway through. Besides, an instinctive hunch warned him that getting further entangled with her would be trouble.
“Forget arm wrestling. Do you know how to play billiards?”
Yet why had he risen to her provocation so readily, as if he had been waiting for it? It was likely because Alan’s words had flashed through his mind.
The suggestion to take a woman of low birth as his mistress—one base enough to drag his high-society reputation straight into the gutter.
A tavern waitress more than satisfied that requirement.
Furthermore, with such a bold, refreshing personality, pretending to fall in love with her wouldn’t be all that difficult. Above all, objectively speaking, she was pretty and captivating.
Yes. If entanglement was what it came to, he had no reason to refuse.
Natalie soon took up a cue. Their match entered a new phase.
This time, the loser had to take a drink. Her billiards skills were top-notch as well.
Just what kind of life had she lived? She seemed intimately familiar with men’s pastimes. The games between them continued, making time slip away unnoticed.
While waiting for his turn, he found himself watching her expression. Her face, utterly absorbed in the game and so completely earnest, kept drawing quiet laughter from him.
“Are you falling asleep?”
Before long, the young noblemen around them had collapsed asleep one after another, and Natalie began to nod off with her cue in hand.
“No… I’m not asleep yet…”
Natalie’s body tilted sideways. Vitor swiftly caught her by the back.
Cheeks flushed red with drink, soft breaths parting her full lips, delicate eyelashes, and a subtle scent lingering from her skin…
His grip around her waist tightened without him realizing it. Where had he smelled this scent before? It was familiar, yet elusive.
Sweet and evocative of lush greenery, like freshly crushed grass. Mingling harmoniously with the air, it felt soft and light, yet possessed a lingering depth that made it impossible to forget once inhaled.
“Just one… more game…”
Natalie mumbled, as if continuing the game in her dreams.
“All right. We’ll play again next time. We’ll have plenty of days ahead to meet.”
Vitor lifted her in his arms and carried her straight to the bedroom.
The moment he laid her on the bed, she complained of the heat and threw off her clothes. She was clearly thoroughly drunk.
Rather than erotic, the sight struck him as endearing. Watching her, a mischievous urge suddenly welled up.
‘What if I strip down and fall asleep beside her?’
Given the circumstances, she would assume they had spent the night together. Knowing her personality, she didn’t seem the type to demand he take responsibility—she’d probably start by screaming.
He wondered what her reaction would be when she woke in the morning.
Whatever it was, he anticipated it would be amusing. But that expectation shattered to pieces the very next morning.
“And yet, she left without a single word of farewell…”
Vitor murmured to himself, staring at the empty space beside him.
He had never envisioned a situation like this. Vitor was in an utterly foul mood.
His pride was wounded, the situation was unbelievable, and he felt a strange touch of hurt.
It was astounding to feel such emotions toward a woman he had met for the first time yesterday. Had he expected some great sense of loyalty just because they shared a few games? It was absurd.
‘No. Let’s not jump to conclusions.’
She might have had an urgent matter to attend to. There had to be some misunderstanding. He reined in the agitation bristling inside him.
“Vitor. I asked the owner, and…”
“Yeah.”
Alan, who had stepped out to inquire about her whereabouts, walked back in, treading lightly.
“She quit…?”
“What?”
“N-No, I mean, she was planning on quitting anyway. It wasn’t supposed to be effective immediately, but well, she quit, so she doesn’t work here anymore.”
“…”
“Vitor?”
Vitor’s expression froze instantly into ice. He remained silent for a long time.
Ha. What was he supposed to make of this? It was difficult to define the emotion seething within him.
Was it anger, hollow disbelief, or simply bafflement over an incomprehensible situation?
Then, his gaze suddenly caught on a familiar object on the bedside table. It was the floral-engraved silver pendant the woman had worn around her neck.
Vitor slowly picked up the pendant. Opening the locket cover, he saw an inscription.
[Louise]
It seemed even her name had been a lie.
“…Unbelievable.”
“What did you say?”
A strange, simmering fire flared in his blue-green eyes.
“Find that woman. Drag her before my eyes this instant.”
“Phew, finally done…”
Roy wiped the sweat trickling down her forehead.
She had meticulously checked the sights and safeties of the rifles and scouted the areas frequented by beasts to map out the optimal hunting routes.
Servants bustled about carrying refreshments and drinks, arranging a rest area beneath the pavilion. Before long, the noble ladies of the Hermont ducal family gathered one by one under the canopy.
‘So the one with the relatively gentle expression is the Duke’s mother, the former Duchess Elise Hermont, and that stern-looking lady is his grandmother, Grand Duchess Leonora Hermont?’
Roy recalled the descriptions she had overheard among the servants, deducing who they were.
Yet strangely, they felt familiar. Convinced she had seen those faces somewhere before, she was searching her memory when another pair walked over.
“I hurried to come out early, but it seems I’m late.”
“Not at all. We just arrived ourselves. Please, have a seat here.”
The former Duchess warmly directed them to their seats. The arrivals were a noble lady with striking auburn hair and a man.
The man wasn’t particularly tall, but his solid, robust build made him stand out.
‘Is that man the Duke?’
The Duke of Hermont’s male paramour.
