The Trash Lady Who Stole the Duke's First Night
Chapter 32
“What? If we get caught, it’ll be awkward for both of us—”
“You asked me to pretend we were in love. Yet you intend to hide that you’re my fiancée from the estate’s people? What are you planning to do while hiding that I’m your man?”
The man stepped toward the entryway. Elio quickly shoved her feet into her shoes.
I’m your man. She was utterly dumbfounded by how nonchalantly he could utter words that made her face burn.
“W-What do you mean, do? I’m trying to make money! I’m really good at purification. Even the mercenaries praised my purification as top-tier and gave me free beer!”
The man, striding toward the front door with long steps, spun around. As his imposing frame bore down on her in an instant, Elio flinched and clutched the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“…Did you drink it?”
Letting go of the doorknob, he narrowed his eyes sharply and leaned down toward her.
“I-I didn’t?”
With his face looming right in front of hers, Elio shook her head. As his gaze grew fiercer, she hurriedly added:
“Really! I only purified for them. I don’t usually drink alcohol. I only drank because I was with you.”
Carlos stared quietly into Elio’s innocent-looking blue-green eyes—into those audacious pupils that seemed to show trust only to him.
“It bothers me seeing you sparkle your eyes at men and try so hard to be loved. You look starved for affection, too.”
He undid two more shirt buttons around his damnably suffocating neck. Just as Elio blinked rapidly and opened her mouth to speak again, he stepped out the front door.
“Now go to sleep already. It’s nine o’clock.”
“Wh-who goes to sleep at nine o’clock… Sir! Are you leaving? Do I need to thank Sir Grita separately? It’s getting late, is Sir Grita still at the Duke’s Castle?”
Elio, who had been following close behind Carlos’s back, bumped her forehead against his solid chest when he suddenly turned around, letting out a small groan.
He immediately cradled the back of her head, pulled her close, and rubbed her rounded forehead with his thumb, his voice a low growl.
“…Thank her for what? Did you ask Grita to introduce you to some guy?”
“No? A guy? I meant thanking her for bringing the meal.”
The man stepped forward by as much as she had backed away. With the evening breeze came a refreshing pine scent that seemed to be his own. Elio pulled back her fingertips and shook her head.
“I’m not interested in anyone Sir Grita offers to introduce.”
Carlos looked down at her intently.
“…Y-you said you’d introduce me to someone nice.”
“As if you know who I’d introduce.”
“…Someone wonderful, I’m sure. Someone sweet and gentle, like a peach.”
Carlos gave a hollow chuckle, the corner of his mouth curving upward.
“……It’s late, so please hurry along.”
He narrowed his eyes, gazing at the woman’s small hands fidgeting restlessly just like that night she had leaned against the wall in pain, and her tightly bitten red lips.
“Want me to tuck you in?”
“Sir…! Do you really think I’m a child?”
“My lady.”
At his sudden polite address, Elio paused and tilted her head.
“…Yes?”
Carlos let out a faint laugh at the way her voice had suddenly turned sweet and demure.
With flushed cheeks, Elio stared intently at the blanket that had fallen by her feet. Her heels felt cold against the chilly marble.
Carlos swept back his bangs and lowered his head.
As if shoved in hastily by force, the woman’s tiny feet were only halfway inside the yellow shoes.
“…I was going to see you out, but you left so quickly that I couldn’t put them on properly.”
Elio muttered like making an excuse, straining to push her protruding bare feet all the way in. Carlos slowly closed and opened his dry eyes, then brushed a hand over his lips where a faint smile lingered.
“Then please see me off, my lady.”
Elio softly lifted her gaze from where she had been staring fixatedly at his large combat boots.
The moment she saw the refreshing smile hovering on his lips, she primly looked away.
“…Shall I? On this night graced by the glory of God Himmel, thank you for treating me to such an exquisite dinner. Thanks to you, I enjoyed plenty of soft dishes and had a wonderful evening.”
Elio delivered her greeting as gracefully as a princess in a romance novel. Straightening her spine, she reached toward the entryway. She shoved her feet into the half-worn shoes and hastily hooked the straps over her heels.
“Wrap the blanket around you. I told you it gets chilly at night.”
Carlos bent down, picked up the linen blanket, shook it out, and draped it over her shoulders.
“……Why are you speaking informally again? You were speaking formally just a second ago…?”
Elio grumbled quietly as if to herself, clutching the blanket.
“Do you prefer it when I speak formally?”
Carlos turned the doorknob and loosened his cravat. Veins stood out once more on the back of his hand.
He quietly slipped the piglet-pink envelope from the good-for-nothing Imperial Princess—which had arrived in the entryway mail pouch at some point—into his inner breast pocket.
“…Well, you know….”
Standing close behind her as he reached an arm over her head, the man’s pine scent made Elio moisten her dry lips.
As soon as he swung the front door wide open, she hurried to take a step outside. Click. The sound of her shoes striking the marble rang out loudly.
“…Yes. Because it makes you seem like a gentleman as sweet as a peach.”
The night breeze tickled her flushed cheeks.
“Then I suppose I’ll stick to informal.”
Elio glared up at him. Carlos tilted his head shamelessly, as if asking what was wrong.
“What about me? We’re engaged as equal human beings, so why am I the only one who has to keep speaking formally? Carlos?”
Hearing the woman call his name so softly, Carlos raised the corner of his mouth in disbelief.
“You want to speak informally to me?”
“Yes, Carlos!”
“Then I’ll speak formally.”
Elio parted her lips in utter astonishment.
Seriously… seriously… so annoying. What kind of person is he…
“Well, of course. You’re six whole years older than me, Sir. To be honest, dropping honorifics with someone that much older would make me uncomfortable too. I prefer a husband the same age as me, someone I can comfortably speak informally with like a friend. I’m definitely going to meet someone my age later. Please introduce me to a twenty-year-old.”
Carlos couldn’t help but laugh, watching her chirp away like an angry little chick.
“Sure. Go meet someone your age.”
Elio stared at the broad back of the man walking ahead of her.
“…Do you like someone your age too, Sir?”
“I wonder.”
“How many years difference do you prefer? Older or younger.”
Elio minced her steps through the weeds, catching up to the man who had outpaced her again. The warm night breeze rustled the leaves.
“Well. A year or two.”
Elio blinked, and when her eyes met his dark gaze, she quickly averted them toward the green weeds.
……What the heck? After going on about how a ten-year age gap is common in marriage.
“…A year or two is reasonable, indeed. Like Sir Grita…?”
“Yeah.”
Carlos replied half-heartedly as he pulled up Elio’s slipping blanket and fastened it securely all the way up to her slender nape.
His gaze swept slowly over the rooftops and walls where guards had been stationed; then, gently cupping her small, red earlobe with his hand, he drew her against his chest.
Startled by his large, hot hand, Elio lowered her head and gripped his thick wrist. Was this also part of pretending to cherish her?
“Go inside now. It’s cold at night.”
“…I’m fine. I’m not cold. Really, not cold at all.”
“Well, I’m cold.”
“……Liar. Your hands are boiling hot, Sir.”
“They’re hot because it’s cold. Go in. Never open the door for anyone, and go straight to sleep.”
Practically chased back into the house by the man pushing her back with such nonsense, Elio opened her mouth in utter disbelief as the door slammed shut right before her eyes. Kicking off her shoes, she scurried over and pressed herself against the living room terrace window.
As if he knew she would stand there, the man already standing outside before the terrace window gave a clean, handsome smile.
Flushing red, Elio yanked shut the curtains he had rehung. Tapping her feet and hesitating with the linen curtain in hand, she parted it slightly, only to see the back of the man walking away without a backward glance.
With his jacket and cravat roughly crumpled in hand and his sweat-dampened shirt completely unbuttoned, anyone looking at him might have thought he was a thoroughly drunken man.
Yet it was a night without a single drop of alcohol.
The intoxication she felt… was simply because the midsummer night was too warm.
Though her attempts to secretly peek outside left fingerprints all over the glass, the man quickly vanished from view.
Elio quickly ran up to the second floor. Through the large window, she watched the tall, broad-shouldered man walk until the end of the alley, and only after he had completely disappeared did she collapse into a seat.
“……It’s boiling hot. What does he mean, cold? You could practically roast sweet potatoes on his body….”
Chirp!
“…Why is it so hot, seriously? It’s because of the rainy season. Right…?”
Chirp! Chirp!
Muttering that she would rather have a torrential downpour than this stifling humidity, she hugged her knees and picked up the spicy romance novels at her feet.
The Noble Knight’s First Kiss…
Pouting, she shoved the book far away.
…It’s all because of this book. I really shouldn’t have read it.
Clutching her thumping heart with one hand as scenes from the romance novel kept flashing in her mind, she crawled over. She rummaged through a small cookie tin and pulled out stationary and an envelope.
Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!
As she pulled out the letter paper, the carrier pigeon fluttered its wings.
At the pigeon’s noisy nagging, she pouted deeply and wrote the reply she had been putting off.
Unnie.
Where on earth are you sending this carrier pigeon from? You’re not sleeping rough in the middle of nowhere again, are you?
Anyway, I didn’t tell Sir Carlos anything about you, Unnie, and my identity hasn’t been exposed either. So don’t come looking for me. I’m going to see this engagement through to the end with him. There are only two months left anyway!
And please stop hurling vulgar curses at Sir Carlos. I know putting me in this situation wasn’t great either.
Still, he’s far better than you, Unnie, who always vanishes without a word. He’s not putting me in danger, and he takes good care of everything so I don’t face any inconveniences in daily life.
Not that I… like… Sir Carlos or anything. Absolutely not.
Flustered by the smudged ink on the last line, Elio pressed down firmly with her pen to rewrite it.