# 21
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After a while, Walter said in a low voice:
“I see what you mean.”
Happiness appeared on the faces of the Marquise and Flora.
“I think you'd better get some rest. "We'll leave now."
The Marquise rose with a friendly smile.
“Yes, please rest.”
As for Flora, she leaned slightly and whispered as sweetly as she could:
“Rest easy, Your Highness.”
As soon as they left, the maid hurried to remove the hospitality utensils. Unlike the Marquise and Flora, who had taken a few sips, there was no trace of a single touch in Walter's cup.
When the maid also came out, Joseph, who had been standing next to Walter the whole time, muttered in a voice like a fart:
“Ah... when Your Highness smiles like that, I feel goosebumps on my knees. People who don't know you seem to think it's just an elegant smile.”
You look at them and think: How do I crush them?
Walter did not comment, just looked coldly, then pointed with his eyes to the large vase that Flora had brought under the pretext of arranging flowers.
“Remove it.”
“Yes, I actually intended to.”
Which house is Beit Lewin? Isn't it the house that, along with the Marquis and his wife, made every effort to send Walter to the Wall of Death, and contributed greatly to the exclusion of the Knights' Houses?
While Joseph was lifting the vase, Walter again took out the documents he had been looking at earlier.
These were statistics on the territory's total income in the first half of the year. It was clear, clearly and beyond interpretation, that most of the proceeds had been poured into the pockets of the Marquis's group. They did not even try to hide it in the documents themves. The thieves who entered the house in the absence of the owner of the house were having a noisy feast.
“Respect, then...”
Walter muttered, resting his head on the back of the sofa.
“Let us see what a gentleman I have been.”
His sharp voice crept into the warmth of the autumn sun, then faded away.
＊ ＊ ＊
In the hallway, Flora's face suddenly brightened.
She placed her hand on her throbbing chest and gasped in unsteady breaths. Something was tickling her heart, and her limbs were trembling with a slight tingling sensation.
This feeling... these feelings!
No doubt about it! The Duke's heart was moved for her, even if only for a moment!
As she pressed her breast, the Marquise whispered:
“I thought she was at least a fallen noble, but she doesn't even look like it. Just a name, nothing more.”
“How did she master the imitation of nobility to this extent?”
“And who only has her body, what can’t she do? In the capital's cafés run by Hazel Chernin, you'll see many commoners who look like nobles. But the real and the fake... must eventually separate.”
The Marquise smiled as she looked at Flora scrutinizingly.
“In that barren land, his heart may fall to a woman without a title, but when the environment changes, the outlook changes. “Anyway, the Duke’s looks at you were not normal.”
“Don't say that... I'm ashamed.”
The Marquise laughed and tugged Flora's arm, then linked her arm with hers and they walked slowly down the hall.
“Visit him often in a manner worthy of a duchess. Show him that you are not compared to those who feign sophistication.”
"yes i will."
“I appreciate you so much. Maybe because I have no daughter, you have been my daughter since you were young.”
“I also see you as a mother to me.”
"Good."
When they reached the central staircase, they stopped together as if on a date.
The intense sunlight was pouring through the huge glass arch of the stairwell, and Flora's blond hair looked like scattered shards of light.
The frown on Flora's brow intensified, and the Marquise whispered:
“The Duke is lucky. With a girl like you by his side, he will live here in peace. Imagine him keeping a woman next to him who does not know which den she came from... Who will respect him then?
Flora nodded, a determined look on her face.
“Yes, you are correct. "I will do my best for His Highness's reputation."
At that moment, Grace was walking up the stairs with light steps, holding the hem of her skirt with one hand. She could clearly sense two looks full of hostility, but she intended to completely ignore them and move on.
However, this seemed to increase the Marchioness's provocation.
“This is not your place.”
Grace paused at the harsh word. When she turned towards the Marquise, the first thing her eyes fell on was the extravagant necklace hanging around her neck. Seeing the large diamond, she thought of Eliza's annex, which looked like the ruins of a palace of a collapsed kingdom.
Her chest grew colder, while the Marquise exclaimed sharply:
“This mansion of the Duke of Richmond is not worthy of being set upon by even a hair of your own. Get out on your feet.”
Grace laughed secretly at the woman's f-confidence, but she could not remain silent.
“Do you know who I am?”
The voice was soft, but Flora blurted out as if she had had a fit:
“How dare you, you lowlife, open your mouth?!” People like us know from feeling alone: who is vile and who is noble. Behavior reveals everything!
"sense?"
"Yes!!"
Grace quickly considered her words, then smiled slightly, and smiled innocently.
“So then.”
Then she turned around before they could reply, and walked away with calm, uncontrollable steps. Behind her, Jessie muttered through clenched teeth:
“What are you raving about?”
“Shh.”
Grace motioned for her to be quiet and walked away. At the back, the Marquise said angrily, grinding out the words:
“How impudent! She goes without greeting, relying on the Duke's love. "Look well at this ridiculous spectacle, Flora."
“Of course, ma'am.”
As for the idea of saying goodbye in tears, it has been cancelled.
I will hold his hand in front of you and laugh on purpose. I will make you realize with bitterness what woman truly suits him.
With this thought, warmth came to her chest after coldness.
As she descended the stairs, the Marquise gave an order to one of the ladies-in-waiting:
“Do not provide any support to the Chandelier Room.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
The mere use of that room, by someone who was not even a minor noble, was chilling.
The Duke, and that insolent woman too, should taste it. They realize that those who do not have the permission of the Marquis of Linco cannot live in the Duke of Richmond's palace.
＊ ＊ ＊
After the Marchioness and Flora left, Walter returned to his book. But he couldn't concentrate. His thoughts frequently drifted toward the door connected to the chandelier room.
It's been a fair amount of time since Grace went to the annex.
...Grace.
His thoughts flowed without order, like channels of water making their way randomly.
When he looked at Flora, Joseph felt like a monster staring at its prey, but the truth was that Walter was thinking about Grace at that moment. This was inescapable.
Her expressions that change with every look, her eyes, her movements.
It was only ten times, but every one of them was fresh in his memory.
“Ha.”
Walter laughed bitterly as he ran his hand over his face.
Grace Taylor is a dangerous person. He must prepare well so as not to get hurt by the blade of the sword he is holding.
While he was trying to remove her image from his mind
«……»
Joseph's hand, who was sorting flowers in the distance, suddenly stopped.
At the same moment, the two looked in the same direction and held their breath. A strange sensation came from the chandelier room.
A heavy feeling, not like that of a woman.
Joseph approached without a sound and asked:
“What do we do?”
Walter answered quickly, staring at the door:
“Sure.”
Joseph dashed toward the door, ready to engage if necessary. He listened to the movement behind him, then suddenly opened it.
As soon as the door opened, Joseph's eyebrows twitched.
Standing one step away was a tall man. He stared at Joseph steadily. Just as Joseph had read his trail, the man had read Joseph's trail and waited for him.
Wavy silver hair, blood red eyes, and the sharp features of a handsome man.
Joseph asked quickly, examining him for a weapon.
“Who are you?”
The man pulled his red lips into a lazy smile and replied:
“Who do you think I am?”
...Hey, that's a familiar phrase.
Then, Walter, who had been watching the confrontation, got up. As he rose, the red gaze turned from Joseph to him.
Walter walked forward with steady steps, revealing his full presence.
Hitman? no.
A spy for the Marquis? no.
Joseph stepped aside, and Walter crossed the threshold. But the man did not back down. Rather, he faced him with a look as if it were a rude test.
While Walter stared directly into his red eyes, he asked in a low voice:
“Did Grace summon you?”