Chapter 92.1

The morning sun had barely risen when an unexpected visitor arrived at the Grand Duchess of Del Casa. The butler of the Marquis of Vale, Angel, stood at the door, his forehead wrinkled in disapproval. The footman who opened the door stood behind him, sensing his unease.

“Welcome,” Owen greeted him coldly.

“I apologize for not contacting you before coming here,” Angel said, his tone apologetic.

“It must be an urgent matter,” Owen said, his voice softening. “Please come inside.”

Angel followed Owen to the drawing room, clutching a thick bundle in his hand as if it were a precious treasure. He stood with his back straight, his eyes fixed on the door, waiting for the Grand Duchess to arrive.

A maid was summoned to inform Canillia of Angel’s arrival. “Please tell her quietly,” Owen instructed, “the Grand Duke will be with her.”

The sound of footsteps rushed down the stairs, and Angel’s expression hardened as he turned to see Canillia approach him with a bright smile. But his happiness was short-lived as he saw her limp towards him, a reminder of the accident that he should have prevented.

I should have noticed that Dornan’s condition was strange when he came to the hospital that day, Angel thought to himself, filled with guilt. If only I had paid a little more attention.

“Angel, you’ve come all this way,” Canillia greeted him warmly, delight spreading across her face as she saw that he had fully recovered from his illness.

As they sat across from each other, hot tea was served. Canillia’s favorite blend. Angel looked at the blooming flowers, then offered her the bundle of letters he had brought with him.

“A reply from Geore has arrived. I tried to deliver it as soon as possible, so I hope you’ll forgive my rude arrival.”

Canillia’s heart raced as she took the letters into her trembling hands. She wondered what they might contain, what news they might bring.

“You’ve traveled far, Angel,” Claude said, standing up and gesturing for him to do the same. “Take some time to rest.”

Claude sent Angel to the tearoom with Owen, unable to take his eyes off of Canillia. He knew it would take some time to read all of those letters, and he wanted to be there for her every step of the way.

“Are you happy?” Claude asked, a smile on his face as he saw the joy in Canillia’s eyes.

“Yes, this is the first reply I’ve ever received,” she replied, a hint of wonder in her voice.

“There must have been some reason for the delay,” Claude said, sensing that there was more to the story. “Perhaps someone like Dr. Carl interrupted it.”

Though he knew it was Rosina who had hidden the letters, Claude kept that information to himself. The sight of Canillia’s happiness filled him with a warm and fuzzy feeling, and he decided to give her some space to read the letters.

“Read them slowly,” he said, before leaving the room.

Canillia was now completely alone in her drawing room, surrounded by a peaceful silence. She carefully broke the seal bearing the Sergio family coat of arms, and red beeswax powder fell to the floor.

***

That night, Canillia’s heart was heavy with grief as she refused to leave her bedchamber. Her servants worried, but Claude understood and instructed them to grant her solitude.

But it was the fourth day after Angel’s visit when Canillia finally emerged from her seclusion. In the stillness of night, Claude was lost in his reading when he heard the door to his chambers creak open. Before him stood Canillia, dressed in her nightclothes and looking crestfallen.

“Come here,” Claude whispered, holding out his arms.

With slow, shuffling steps, Canillia approached him, climbed into his bed, and allowed herself to be enveloped by his embrace.

The letter from her mother was filled with regret and remorse, detailing how close she had come to making an irreversible choice, only to be saved by Dr. Carl. But even as she spoke of peace, she expressed fear of the harm she could cause the nobility if she were to succumb to her guilt once more.

“To my beloved Canillia” the letter began, and “To my dear Canillia” it ended.

“I envy the Duke,” Canillia whispered.

“Why?” Claude asked, nuzzling her neck.

“Because you have a family,” she replied, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Holding her close, Claude whispered in her ear, “It will soon be yours, too.”

“Still,” Canillia whispered, “I cannot help but feel envious.”

“Have you read all the letters…?” Claude asked, trying to hide the turmoil in his voice.

“Yes. Mother never received the letter I sent. What could have happened? I sent so many… was the address wrong?” Canillia replied, her voice filled with frustration and sadness.

As she spoke, Claude let out a heavy sigh. It was already in the past, but why was he still holding onto that letter? He felt an urge to throw away the letter in his drawer.

“Louvre doesn’t have an address. I guess it went to the wrong place. But I feel like I put in effort. Didn’t I?” Canillia shook her head, twirling her fingers as she thought. She then smiled softly and pressed her lips to the end of Claude’s jaw.

“I’m very happy… Mother misses me, but I think she can handle it,” she said, her voice filled with hope.

“Just hold on a little. I’ll bring your mother here… to this place,” Claude promised, determined to make it happen.

Lia’s pupils trembled as she looked up at him. Her gaze seemed to doubt his words. His sigh also deepened like the deepening night. “I promise,” Claude repeated, the word “promise” echoing in Lia’s ear. Lia turned around and faced him completely. She hugged him tightly, and the gentle touch of his embrace around her waist was full of affection.

[I hope you won’t be swayed by the love of the nobles. They are untrustworthy beings. To them, a beautiful flower is just a decoration to be picked and thrown away without a second thought. I pray your heart won’t be hurt. Please walk a different path from them… with me.]

Had she not met Claude, she may have believed her mother’s advice. But Claude wanted to show her that he was different from other lords.

“Thank you. And… I love you.”