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Chapter 31
It was hard to believe a person could move so quickly. Even if she’d been pretending to sleep, no one could move this fast.
She tried to pull her body back in a hurry, but it was already too late.
Just as the chill of the blade made her stiffen and gulp, the Duke, looking thoroughly displeased, recognized that the person standing beside him was Pricia.
“What are you doing?”
“I was going to serve tea, but you looked tired, so I thought I’d tidy up a little.”
She didn’t know what kind of secret message he’d written, but the scribbles looked like worms crawling across the page.
It was such atrocious handwriting that there seemed to be no risk of leaking information—it was unreadable.
Despite the horrific penmanship, the Duke openly expressed displeasure and snatched the paper from her hand.
“Did you read it?”
“Of course not! How could I possibly read that?”
If calligrapher Han Seokbong came back to life, he would probably beat the ground and weep, asking how such terrible handwriting could exist in the world.
She was curious about what kind of words her husband had written so horribly, but he had no intention of revealing it.
Which only made her more certain of what the contents were.
“That’s about me, isn’t it?”
Hit right on the mark, the Duke looked even more displeased and asked her again.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because you went out of your way to make sure I didn’t see it.”
She was being serious, but suddenly a smirk spread across his face. Maybe he was laughing because it was so ridiculous, but she was serious here.
“It is, right? I mean, what are you, a first-year academy student? How old are you to be doing something so childish?”
“My wife, who hasn’t even spent the first night with me, got drunk and clung to my neck. Said she liked me.”
“…What?”
With a crooked posture, the Duke arrogantly crossed his legs and looked at Pricia like he was reading off someone else’s story.
“She postponed our first night for a year because she was scared of me. I didn’t want to force a woman who disliked me, so I decided to wait patiently until she could accept me.”
“I… I did that?”
“But for some reason, my wife started throwing off her clothes in front of me and whispering how much she liked me while clinging to me in a drunken haze.”
“I never did that!”
Just as she was about to deny it, the memories that had been buried suddenly flashed through her mind like a lantern flickering on.
Clinging to his neck, whispering over and over again how much she liked him, even lightly biting his earlobe…
She remembered it all. Every last bit of it.
“…Oh.”
“Well, the thing is, when I said I liked you…”
“So I started wondering. What exactly does my wife mean when she says she likes something? If she had to choose between me and pudding, which would she pick?”
“Pudding, obviously. You’re just…”
“I’m just?”
“…Nothing. Forget it.”
She almost let slip something awful—Pudding is sweet, and you’re— Thankfully, she swallowed it just in time.
Who knew the effects of spending all day every day thinking indecent thoughts would linger this long?
“Well. Pudding may delight your taste buds, but I can make you feel good in a completely different way.”
“…Excuse me?”
What was he saying? And why was he looking at her like that?
With eyes as sweet and sticky as honey, he stood up without hesitation and took a step closer until he was right in front of her.
“This whole flinching thing every time you get scared—yeah, I really don’t like that either.”
“Exactly. That’s why I…”
The Duke reached out and gently caressed her cheek, then teasingly tapped the spot on her nape where the paper knife had touched earlier.
“Come to think of it, I never said it properly, did I? That’s on me.”
“W-What do you mean?”
“I think I’ve come to like my wife—Pricia Devlann—quite a lot.”
She took a deep breath in front of this playful Duke and questioned whether she had heard him correctly.
No way. I must’ve misheard.
“How… how could you say something like that…”
“To hear such displeasure even after a husband’s confession. Could it be that you’ve come to like someone else, my dear?”
At the question that practically accused her of cheating, she quickly shook her head.
She was stuck in the mansion every day—how could she cheat? The idea was absurd.
With a strangely gentle smile, the Duke lightly tapped her cheek again.
“Um, Duke? Could you please move your hand…”
“Hm?”
“I mean, Duke…”
“My name’s not Duke, you know.”
Of course, of course it’s not.
He could’ve just asked to be called by name, but instead he tilted his well-shaped nose right up to hers and pressed in closer.
“You do know your husband’s name, don’t you?”
“Wi-Wilfred?”
“You can be a little more casual with me.”
“Really?”
“Actually, no. Just moderately.”
She thought it was her chance to say something, but in less than ten seconds he changed his mind again.
She tried to sneak back, but he stepped forward every time, cornering her until her back hit the bookshelf.
Was this that infamous wall slam?
“Anyway, you know…”
“In front of everyone, you tossed your husband aside and ran to Madam Benoit and shouted, ‘You’re so pretty, sister!’”
He picked up her twin-braided hair and kissed it lightly, clearly expressing his displeasure.
“I was drunk. That was just my real feelings slipping out.”
“Hooh. So when you said you liked me, that was your real feelings too?”
No matter how frantically she nodded, his displeased expression didn’t budge. What exactly didn’t he like?
“The tea’s ready! You should drink it before it gets cold!”
“…Do you really like me?”
What was she supposed to say now, when her sincerity was being questioned?
Left with no choice, Pricia decided to use her secret weapon.
She gave him a soft peck on the lips and looked up at him with the most pitiful puppy eyes she could muster.
“Can’t you let it slide this once? I know I was wrong. I won’t drink recklessly again.”
It was just a light baby kiss—but it worked wonders.
“Well, I don’t mind if you get drunk in front of me. Brandy mixed with tea actually tastes pretty good.”
Fortunately, the tactic worked. The Duke backed off quietly and headed for the bookshelf.
He rummaged deep inside and pulled out a honey-colored bottle.
“It’s brandy from Filonne Mountain. Known for its sweet, nose-prickling vanilla scent.”
She thought she’d never be able to drink again after what happened yesterday, but he even poured it for her himself.
As expected of a drink known for its aroma, the scent blended with the tea and tickled her nose.
“How is it? Want to try?”
While he sorted the papers on the desk, Pricia took a tentative sip of the warm tea.
It was sweet and slightly bitter, like honey tea—definitely the taste of a grown-up. The elegant aroma made her sigh without realizing.
“It’s delicious.”
One sip, then another. Before she knew it, she’d had several sips and was feeling tipsy.
Her cheeks flushed red, and when she looked up again, the Duke behind the light looked almost like he was glowing.
“Seems like it suits your taste.”
“Yeah. Lily loves this kind of thing too.”
Madam Benoit had said that once she got permission from the Duke, everything else was fair game.
Pricia snuggled closer and gently rested her head on his shoulder.
“Can I invite my sister and brother?”
“If there’s a proper reason.”
He used to say no outright. Now at least he was asking why—maybe she should be grateful.
Remembering what Ada had said about jealousy, Pricia racked her brain for a good enough reason.
“They’ll only stop worrying if they see I’m doing well.”
Especially Rose, who once said she’d feed and support her for life and begged her not to leave. Just thinking about that made her heart ache.
“If my sister weren’t in that situation, she’d never have let me marry. You may not know, but I was a precious daughter in the Devlann family.”
“I’ve heard. Rose Devlann hid you away like a treasure, saying she wouldn’t let just any man see you—beautiful, mysterious, a jewel of Devlann.”
His expression was still infuriatingly smug, but her cheeks burned with embarrassment nonetheless.
Hiding her blushing face with both hands, Pricia barely whispered the truth in a tiny voice.
“It’s embarrassing hearing that out loud.”
“Still, it’s thanks to the Cromford name that I was able to bring such a lady home.”
Well, yes. If it hadn’t been for Marquis Gondaire, Rose never would’ve allowed this marriage.
The Duke shrugged casually.
“Having lost such a precious sister to a terrible husband… I can understand wanting to call me trash.”
“No one called you trash! Why would you be trash?”
Sure, he was annoying, infuriating, and drove her crazy sometimes, but he was still her husband.
“Trash” was a term reserved for jerks like the Duke in The Runaway Duchess.
As she looked at him seriously, the Duke snorted.
“Because I brought home a woman who hated me. Didn’t you say that any man who forces a woman who hates him is trash?”
She wasn’t sure how he made that leap, but judging by how many times he emphasized “hate,” he clearly wanted to hear her say she liked him.
She sighed—was he really begging for compliments like this?
Still, he seemed serious.
So Pricia quietly closed her eyes and whispered:
“Well, I like you… a little.”
“…Just not as much as pudding, right?”
“That’s not what I meant!”
