The Trash Lady Who Stole the Duke's First Night
Chapter 22
“Later.”
Carlos said in a low voice, taking the stack of documents.
Grita lowered her voice as she stared at Elio, who was lying with her head pillowed on Carlos’s lap.
“Are you planning to stay like this until she wakes up?”
Grita paused, fixing her gaze on Elio. The soft swell of Elio’s full bust rose and fell slowly, swaying with each breath.
“…Senior. Did you touch the lady’s undergarments?”
Grita let out the word ‘Senior,’ just as she had during their days at the Military Academy. As she always did whenever they were alone.
“……She didn’t seem to be breathing properly.”
Carlos replied after a few seconds of silence.
“You told her to wear this, didn’t you? Isn’t it constricting her chest too much?”
Carlos slowly stroked the woman’s back over the blanket. He tapped the part fastened with five large hooks and furrowed his brows.
“The child could barely breathe.”
“It’s for her safety. It can prevent a fatal wound even if she gets stabbed by a blade. We don’t know when an assassin might strike, so we have to be careful.”
The corners of Grita’s neat mouth lifted.
“I’ll pay closer attention to the lady’s safety, so put your worries to rest and keep your boundaries, Senior.”
“…….”
“No matter how much of a child she looks like, this is crossing the line with a young lady. Anyone seeing this would think she’s your daughter.”
Carlos silently patted Elio’s back.
At his indifferent attitude, Grita shook her head with a chuckle and held out another document.
“I’ve shortlisted suitable marriage prospects for the Young Lady of Aquitaine, including those from the Kingdom of Cyprus. They are families free of succession disputes, so there shouldn’t be any threat to her safety.”
“Fine.”
Carlos gently smoothed out the furrow between Elio’s brows. What on earth was she dreaming about that made her smack her lips and scowl like that?
Was she no longer having nightmares? He wished he could pry open her head to see why she had groaned and suffered all night, complaining that she hated the bed.
“Ah. My father says he will be visiting Schuppenhardt.”
“…Marquis Hoffmann?”
Grita steadily watched where Carlos’s gaze and hand were directed.
“Yes. Father says our—”
“Wait outside.”
Carlos brushed back Elio’s sweat-dampened forehead and said,
“We will talk later.”
With a faint smile, Grita stared at Carlos for a few seconds before giving a slow nod.
“…Yes. I’ll be waiting in my room.”
❖ ❖ ❖
Dawn, when a dreary drizzle scattered across the air. Beads of sweat dripped from Elio’s flushed face.
“Ros. You know, that man…”
The massive black horse shook its head with a snort, as if unwilling to listen.
“Hey. Carlos.”
Crouched in front of the stables attached to the annex, Elio knitted her brows and stroked the black horse’s head.
“I’m serious right now, okay? Why was that man sleeping with his arms around me? You’re his horse, so you should know.”
Elio placed a hand over her still-thumping heart. Her racing heart, pounding from sneaking away from that huge man, refused to settle down.
“Did he go into the wrong room because he was drunk…? Does your master have a low alcohol tolerance?”
The horse stamped its hooves fiercely and tossed its head.
Even its temper resembles its master’s to a tee…
…He really… is handsome…
Recalling the man’s exquisite face seen right in front of her nose, Elio stared blankly at the black horse.
Could he be the kind of frivolous man who easily enters a woman’s room and holds her to sleep…?
Elio bowed her head toward the muddy ground. Muttering the word ‘playboy,’ she suddenly felt a wave of gloom wash over her as memories of last night flooded back.
Was he really telling the truth when he said he had no interest in the imperial throne?
She felt she would feel less guilty if he truly had used her just because he didn’t want to become Emperor. If only her father’s sabotage, which had used her as a pawn, had been utterly meaningless…
“…Hey, Ros. Should we practice purification?”
Even though the man hadn’t pressed her to show her purification, Elio felt an uneasy prick of conscience. She was already walking on eggshells; after all, wasn’t she the most incompetent person here?
“You are now the daughter of a Baronet of Aquitaine, Lady Elio. Which means you are practically a commoner. Your legal treatment will differ in many ways, so make sure to read the Holy Book thoroughly.”
Remembering the words Grita had told her last night made her heart beat frantically with anxiety once more.
Though she had forced a nonchalant reply to Grita, thanking her for the advice to prepare herself well in advance, her insides had burned with enough anxiety to make her gulp down wine.
Only now did she understand why that man had said so calmly that the bridal night’s vow in the Blue Orb could be revoked.
Since she wasn’t the daughter of legitimate nobility, the marriage vow could probably be nullified at any time.
…If it was going to be like this, wouldn’t it be better to just be a complete commoner…? Even as a baronetcy, the taxes and tax rates were the same as a commoner’s anyway.
Elio bit her lip and rolled up her sleeves.
“…Ros. I’ll try the lowest-grade purification magic. I’ll do it slowly, so…”
Suddenly, a pitch-black shadow fell over her. Elio looked up in shock.
“Hey, you bastard! You only carried the hay and left all the water buckets to me—whoa, holy crap!”
The water bucket sloshed, splashing droplets all over Elio’s dress.
“M-My Lady? What are you doing here?”
At such an ungodly hour, the squires who had come out to prepare for dawn training gaped in shock the moment they spotted the tiny lady in the dark.
❖ ❖ ❖
Carlos rested one hand on his hip and roughly wiped a dry hand over his face.
Having rushed down without even changing into his training attire, his chest muscles heaved under his disheveled, thin tunic.
“Lord Carlos!”
Draped in a raincoat far too large for her petite frame, Elio burst into cheerful laughter atop the massive black horse.
“What do you think you’re doing right now?”
Carlos narrowed his eyes as he watched the woman looking delighted atop his black horse in the middle of the training grounds. What on earth was she doing at the crack of dawn after sneaking out of his arms? She should have just slept in.
The answer came from an unexpected direction.
“We’re teaching her how to ride a horse!”
“The lady was hanging out alone at the stables saying she wanted to try riding, sir!”
“She can screech like a pterosaur and wield a dagger! She ought to know how to ride a horse too!”
The squires, clad in raincoats, surrounded the mounted Elio like an entourage of attendants.
Carlos pressed a hand to his throbbing temple and closed his eyes.
Had they all collectively lost their minds?
“Lord Carlos! Look, look!”
Flushed with excitement, Elio gently tugged on the reins, and the black horse took slow, measured steps.
That abominable beast had probably never walked so slowly even on the day it was born.
“Oh! Our Lady has a real knack for riding!”
“She’s petite, but with a little effort, she could become a fine warrior of the North!”
Rather than the woman riding the horse, it looked more like the horse was obliging her and humoring her game, yet all sorts of nonsense kept pouring out.
Carlos looked between the brainless fools and the bright, sunny creature, then pinched the bridge of his nose with a low, breathy chuckle.
“A warrior of the North…? Would I be able to fight properly with you, Lord Carlos…?”
Carlos twitched an eyebrow.
“And what would you do by fighting me?”
“J-Just…”
Elio stammered as she looked at the man who wrapped his hand around hers.
Carlos pried loose the small hand clutching the reins blindly, threaded the strap between her ring finger, looped it up, and tucked it beneath her thumb.
“We should be getting along; why fight me?”
Elio curled her reddened fingertips tightly. The man standing there, holding her hand, was endlessly composed.
He was terribly handsome today as well, looking as though he had slept wonderfully. The man’s sun-kissed, golden skin looked smooth enough that a finger might slide right off it.
Just how well did he sleep to look so radiant?
No matter how drunk he was, does it make sense to sleep so nonchalantly while hugging a woman…?
She could vividly imagine how many women he must have messed around with in the Military Academy dormitories.
“Are you coming down?”
Elio nodded.
“……I actually have great leg strength normally. But I’m worn out from the pilgrimage, and I drank yesterday, so…”
Carlos rolled up his sleeves without even pretending to listen.
“Try coming down by yourself.”
Elio’s eyes widened.
“I haven’t learned that yet!”
“Take your feet out of the stirrups. Swing your right leg over toward me and lie flat against the horse.”
As Elio swallowed dryly, not knowing what to do, the squires who had betrayed her sat far off, diligently polishing their swords while shouting, “A warrior of the North can do it!”
Can’t you just lift me down? Isn’t helping a lady dismount basic manners for a playboy?
She couldn’t bring herself to utter such cheeky words out loud. With her mind going blank, she recalled how her unnie used to ride horses, swinging her right leg over to the left.
Bringing both legs together, she lay sickle-shaped across the horse’s back. Feeling like she might slip off the shifting black horse, her body stiffened.
Just as she gauged the height she was dangling from and was about to let go, the horse—docile until now—suddenly stamped its hind hooves with force as if to fling her off.
“L-Lord Carlos!”
Right from behind her, Carlos caught her around the waist.
“Let go of your hands.”
Elio clung tightly to the saddle.
“Hands.”
Elio opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. Heat surged through her—both from the man commanding her as if telling a dog to “Give paw!” and from his hard abdomen pressed vividly against her rear.
“Let go. Just set your feet on the ground.”
When Elio refused to let go, gripping the saddle as if it were a lifeline, Carlos chuckled like a sigh. He drew her into his embrace, peeling her off like a clinging little leech.
His breath brushed the nape of her neck, and in the next moment, her feet touched the ground safely.
The young knights burst into delighted laughter at the mere sight of him helping a lady dismount. They made a cheerful commotion, like boys who had just caught their teacher in a romance.
Whispers followed about whether he might take her as a mistress even if he didn’t marry her.
At that, Grita, who was sitting on a bench, nodded with a gentle smile.
“As long as he doesn’t get her pregnant, it doesn’t matter how many commoner mistresses he keeps.”
“Oh, come now, Sir Grita. Is that something that goes according to plan?”
A knight lounging beneath a tree chuckled chidingly. He clicked his tongue, saying that an innocent young noblewoman didn’t understand a man’s lust.
Grita gave a soft laugh, “Haha,” and said,
“Haven’t contraceptives been invented?”
