Chapter 50.1

To the delight of the partygoers, fireworks burst into the sky, showering the darkness with sparkles of light and joy. The display of fireworks, known as the flower of the party, elicited audible approval from the guests.

Although one doesn’t see fireworks often, Marilyn couldn’t enjoy them. The young Duke—who had been within her sight just a moment ago—disappeared again.

Although Claude had been late to the event, he performed his duties as her escort properly, wearing a rare, sweet expression on his face. His happiness made Marilyn temporarily forget the horrible scene in the library.

But then, Claude disappeared without a word.

Marilyn, her body pulsating with annoyance and stress, looked around with a sharp gaze.

Claude had never acted like this before. He always towed the line, and that was fine with her. Marilyn had always found Claude’s confidence and coolness—his ability to never give his hand away—charming.

He is an Ihar, thought Marilyn.  Such sangfroid seemed like a necessity for the Master of Ihar to possess.

Is she misjudging the situation, or is he actually changing? Is another woman the reason for his coldness to her?

Marilyn shook her head to try to erase the image of Claude’s back at the library.

For a noble to have a mistress is a necessary evil. While it is a sin, it is also a way for nobles to flaunt their charm and wealth.

She didn’t want honesty or principle from Claude, who was to be her husband. He was the most charming man she had ever met. She didn’t think that ladies would leave that kind of man alone. She didn’t really care which woman would help him release any s*xual frustration.

She would be happy having his heart. She would be satisfied ensuring that no one would try to wrest the title of Duchess from her. She was justifying this to herself; this was the cost of trying to own a man that she felt she couldn’t even reach.

But, what if he actually gave his heart to another woman?

“I would like to see the Duke with father and mother,” Marilyn said to a servant, sending him to fetch them.

The Duchess, who had arrived from the North very early in the morning, had worry and concern all over her face. The Emperor, concerned about his sister, handled the situation by having the Duchess unpack in the Palace instead of the Townhouse.

The nobles greeted the Duke and Duchess in turn, followed by Marquis Shelby.

“I’ll let them know,” the servant replied to Marilyn.

“But you, do you know where the young Duke is?” Marilyn asked of the servant.

“He always likes moving around alone. I’m sorry, Miss.”

The servant bowed and started gathering food in small quantities. Marilyn’s eyes narrowed as she saw the variety of meats, fruits, and desserts on the plate the servant held.

Packing up food while everyone was focused on the fireworks? Was it to give it to his family?

“Such two-faced people,” murmured Marilyn.

Marilyn looked depressed as she approached Rosina. She felt jealous of Rosina, who looked happy sitting between the Prince and her fiancé.

The son of a low count approached Marilyn, offered his hand, and spoke. “Miss, would you like to dance with me?”

Marilyn responded by turning her back to him. The man blushed in embarrassment and left. At that moment, Marilyn saw a servant hurriedly going somewhere. It was the same servant who had been packing up food just a moment ago.

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More fireworks exploded overhead. Marilyn ignored the joyful reactions of the attendees and focused on the servant. She then moved like she was being dragged.

***

Servant Owen met Claude in front of the door. Claude quickly moved to take the plate from Owen.

Claude nodded saying, “It’s all gourmet.”

“It’s an important day. I’ll bring the drinks soon,” said Owen.

“Thank you, Owen.”

“By the way, Master,” Owen tentatively whispered to Claude. “Miss Marilyn is desperately looking for you. Are you really not going to go down to the ceremony?”

Owen didn’t know who was in the room with Claude. He had dutifully packed enough food for two, including a lot of sweets, at Claude’s orders. Owen assumed that Claude’s guest was a lady, as ladies seem to like sweets.

“The fireworks are prettier up here. Let Miss know that I’ll be back soon, but that she doesn’t have to wait,” Claude instructed.

“Yes,” Owen assented.

“Ah, please bring us non-alcoholic beverages. Juice would be good. Or lemonade.”

“I will.”

After Owen left, Claude brought the food into the room.

Canillian was leaning out the window, awed by the fireworks. Claude smiled at Canillian’s childlike reaction and he couldn’t hold back his admiration.

“Eat something,” prompted Claude.

“You brought food?”

“Not me. Owen,” said Claude, satisfied with the fare Owen had chosen.

The joy of the exploding fireworks was overtaken by hunger. Canillian picked up a fork and started eating, completely unaware of sauce dripping down his face. Claude’s hunger gave way to the delight of watching Canillian, as though Canillian’s eating satiated Claude.

“Wow,” said Canillian, “the Palace cook is really skilled. This is completely different from what I eat at home.”

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“The cook at your place is terrible,” noted Claude.

“But, he still makes great stew! And olive bread,” Canillian said, still eating.

The joy that Claude felt when he faced those innocent eyes was such a wonder to Claude.

“Wait. I’ll bring drinks.”

Claude took his gaze off Lia’s lips covered in sauce. It was possible that the servant was waiting outside the door without being able to knock.