49.
“I apologize for the disturbance, Your Grace. I am Idre Smil.”
Idre, having regained her composure first, offered a polite greeting.
The Duke acknowledged her with a slight nod.
Countess Atech and Omanda hurriedly clutched their skirts, dipping into low bows.
“I am Soran Atech.”
“I am Omanda Atech.”
As the Duke remained silent, the Countess tentatively lifted her head. Beside her, Omanda was blushing, stealing lingering glances at the Duke’s face.
Though she briefly wondered what had brought the Duke to such a place, her base greed quickly clouded her judgment. Like a sycophant sensing an opportunity, the Countess’s eyes lit up.
“Your Grace, I was just about to submit a report to you. Would you believe that this Baronet’s daughter is impersonating your fiancée? Good heavens, one must at least tell stories that make sense. She deserves to be strictly punished for the crime of insulting the nobility.”
Having finished her sermon, the Countess wore a satisfied smile. If she could catch the Duke’s attention today, her husband would surely stop scolding her for her extravagance.
If, by some stroke of luck, the Duke were smitten by her daughter’s beauty, Omanda might even become his real fiancée.
The Countess subtly nudged Omanda in the side.
Omanda, wearing a confident smirk, took a step toward the Duke. But before she could speak, his firmly closed lips finally parted.
“Marin.”
“Yes?”
Marin wanted nothing more than to find a hole to crawl into and hide. This was precisely why she had wanted the mother and daughter gone before he arrived.
“Why is it that wherever you go, it is always so noisy?”
For a moment, the Countess could not grasp the situation. Why was the Duke speaking so familiarly to such a lowly noble?
She glanced at her daughter; Omanda stood frozen, eyes wide.
Only then did the Countess swallow a scream, realization finally dawning on her. Could they actually be acquainted?
Marin’s jade-colored eyes brimmed with frustration. She had known he would say something like that.
“This time, it wasn’t my doing.”
“You always say that.”
“It’s the truth! Those two insisted on taking my dress, even though they knew it was mine.”
The Duke turned his gaze toward them. Pressed by an aura that none dared to challenge, the mother and daughter could not even lift their heads.
“That seems unlikely. Not when it concerns my fiancée.”
The Duke’s voice was low, devoid of overt threat. Yet, under that signature, glacial atmosphere, the Countess and Omanda trembled like aspen leaves.
Overwhelmed by his presence, the Countess let out a faint groan, clutching her forehead. As she swayed, Omanda hurriedly steadied her.
“M-Mother.”
“I assume the matter regarding the engagement dress is already settled?”
“Because of them, we couldn’t even start,” Marin grumbled.
The Duke clicked his tongue.
The deathly pale Omanda dropped her gaze, looking as though she might faint at any moment. The quick-witted Idre stepped in, clutching the money pouch.
“Will you take the money for the dress and be on your way now?”
“Ah, no. You don’t need the payment. Just give me the dress.”
Omanda was calculating. She had spotted the gold-colored dress while passing by and, after snatching it from her friend, had deliberately ruined it. But things had gone awry. Idre, the designer for the Duke’s fiancée, would inevitably become the toast of high society. After today, it was clear she would never sell a piece to the Atechs again—and it was unthinkable for a society flower like her not to own a gown from such a famous house.
For the sake of her future, she had to have the dress.
However.
“No. I will only return the payment.”
Idre refused, her expression cold.
When things failed to go her way, Omanda bit her lip, but the Countess snatched the pouch from her and hauled her toward the door.
“Omanda, let’s go. Quickly.”
“Mother, I won’t be able to buy dresses here again…”
“Hurry up and leave!”
The Countess, who rarely raised her voice to her daughter, dragged her out. Once they disappeared, the shop fell into a heavy silence.
“I apologize for the inconvenience. Let me escort you to the parlor. I will have refreshments prepared shortly.”
After Idre guided them to the inner room, she quickly stepped away with her assistant. Marin glanced at the sofa and whispered to the Duke.
“You can just go straight ahead.”
“Are we going to keep doing this from now on?”
“Do what?”
“Act like lovers in love.”
“Ah…”
“Shall we begin?”
As the Duke lifted his arm, Marin awkwardly linked her own with his.
“If you do this, you won’t need to tell me the direction every time.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
As Marin walked slowly, guiding him, she studied his handsome profile. Wasn’t he sensitive to physical contact with others? Strangely, he did not seem uncomfortable.
“The sofa is right in front of us.”
When the Duke sat, Marin took a seat, maintaining a respectful distance.
“Marin. You have a talent for making me repeat the same words over and over.”
“Yes, yes.”
Marin replied in a whining tone before she realized it, then bit her lip.
*I think I crossed the line.*
She shifted slightly closer to gauge his reaction and saw the corners of his lips curl.
“Since when have you been minding what I think?”
“I have always minded it.”
“That cannot be true.”
The Duke said this with a tone of feigned surprise. Marin felt deeply wronged.
“It really is true.”
“Well, let’s say that’s the case.”
“It is true!”
He let out a scoff and turned his head toward her. Marin’s eyes widened. His eyes were closed, yet she had the illusion that they were making direct eye contact.
“You still don’t seem to be minding what I think right now.”
On that point, she conceded. Marin had nothing to say, so she pressed her lips together tightly.
It was then.
“Thank you for waiting.”
Idre arrived carrying a stack of catalogs. Juri followed, placing the refreshments on the table with trembling hands, nervously watching the Duke.
“Now then, when have you decided on the engagement ceremony? Next autumn? Ho ho. That is too soon, isn’t it?”
“We aren’t holding a separate ceremony; we are only planning a party to celebrate the engagement.”
Marin gripped her teacup, consciously avoiding Idre’s gaze.
“Oh my! Is that so? Then, about when?”
“…….”
Marin could not bring herself to speak, hiding her lips behind the rim of her cup. As the silence dragged on, Idre’s blue eyes flickered with anxiety.
“One month from now.”
The Duke spoke briefly in Marin’s place before picking up his teacup.
Idre covered her mouth in surprise, letting out an internal shriek. She signaled to Marin with her eyes, urging her to confirm. When their gazes met, Marin gave a slight, apologetic nod.
“Then you must choose a dress today, even if we have to stay up all night! Otherwise, I cannot complete the work.”
“I’ll just leave it to you, Designer.”
Marin was already exhausted and wanted to entrust everything to Idre.
“What are you saying! The star of the party is Lady Marin! The design must be one that satisfies you completely!”
Idre’s eyes widened, burning with passion.
“That is what she says.”
The Duke leaned back on the sofa, as if watching a fire from across the river.
“Are you planning to stay with Lady Marin as well, Your Grace?”
Idre looked at the Duke with a respectful gaze. Choosing a dress was a tedious task, yet men in love often stayed with their partners patiently.
“I shall.”
Idre marveled inwardly. The Duke was in love.