Chapter 77
“Please keep this a secret. I hope the prince’s lips aren’t lighter than those of noble young ladies.”
Franz snorted and let out a short laugh. Allen, who had been smiling leisurely, froze at the chill in that laugh. It felt as if his heart had dropped.
“Why do you say that?”
She had tried not to be noticed, but her voice trembled faintly.
If you’re going to get scared at something this small, why act so bold?
Things she’d shrugged off because they hadn’t affected him much were starting to prick at his nerves one by one. The most annoying of them was the Allen Giebermann standing right in front of him.
“Is that all you wanted to say? Is that why you begged me to come yesterday?”
“……”
Allen didn’t answer — it wasn’t an untrue accusation.
“Whether talent is wasted or talent is used, it’s disappointing either way, but it’s not a particularly shocking secret. What a shame.”
“Is that so?”
Allen answered primly, trying to hide her trembling heart.
“Miss Giebermann. Why do you think the young ladies hush about it?”
“Because we implicitly promised to keep it secret.”
“Loyalty to Eila Clarence? Friendship? Do you really think it’s because of promises?”
She nodded as if that would be the natural answer.
“No? It’s because they don’t want their own ugly desires exposed under the pretense of affection.”
“To call someone’s desire to have even one picture of who they like an ‘ugly desire’ seems a bit much, don’t you think?”
“Too much?”
Franz folded his arms and smirked as if amused.
“Is that an excuse you give yourself for trading a portrait with Eila?”
Allen’s face flushed with embarrassment in an instant. Her legs trembled but she stood firm.
Franz chuckled at the correctness of his guess. Thinking it over, Allen Giebermann was indeed the same sort as him. Beyond confidence, there was shameless arrogance.
“You did commission it. But that commission will be treated as if it never happened.”
Allen immediately refuted.
“Why?”
“Because it’s no longer necessary. And Miss Clarence wanted that too.”
“Making it as if it never happened makes anything more honorable? Well, whatever — I’m glad it’s no longer necessary. Not all attention is a good thing.”
Cold eyes turned to Allen.
“I hope your young lady’s mistake won’t be repeated. Did you say she merely wanted to have one painting? Everyone is keeping this hush-hush for a reason; if that affection is revealed, it would be awful. Could Miss Giebermann withstand that blame?”
Franz blamed Allen and every young lady who had commissioned portraits. Because Eila couldn’t be entirely blameless, the others weren’t either.
And he was warning that if she opened her mouth again, all arrows would be aimed at her.
“I understand your meaning well, Your Highness.”
Allen forced a smile and bowed. Now that things had turned this way, rather than feeling bad, she felt relieved.
Franz stared down at the crown of Miss Giebermann’s bowed head, lost in thought. Now that he considered it, Eila had seemed odd when he met Allen yesterday. He hadn’t figured out why then, but perhaps he understood now.
Was she being threatened? If it were Allen Giebermann, certainly.
“What a waste of a painting.”
Franz muttered to himself.
If Miss Giebermann didn’t use her heart as carefully as she used a painting, her feelings would inevitably be revealed and look ugly.
Franz turned and left the parlor. As soon as he left, David hurried over to check on Allen.
“You okay, Allen?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“What’s been going on since yesterday? What did you get up to?”
Allen smiled wryly at David’s accusations.
“You can’t hide anything from me.”
“Why is that? Aren’t you supposed to like that person? Isn’t it shameful to look so pathetic?”
“I liked him. As a husband, there’s no man like him in Lapland. But listen — there’s no opening at all. I tried to get in through my parents, but they gave me no chance.”
“You must have been upset.”
“Right, so I gave up. My life is too precious to spend with someone so cold.”
Allen’s gaze turned to Eila’s portrait.
“But why — what kind of spite is this?”
“It wouldn’t have worked anyway, but I just wanted to be spiteful — even if only a little.”
Miss Clarence, who he had thought could never match with Prince Franz, actually fit him perfectly. The man who had been cold to Allen was so gentle with Eila that Allen couldn’t begrudge her. Though she felt some guilt toward Miss Clarence, Allen soothed herself with the thought that if everything worked out, Eila could also be freed from the burden in her heart. Thinking of the prince’s warning glance made Allen’s smile deepen.
Franz left the parlor and went straight out of the mansion. He told the footman to prepare a carriage, checked his watch while waiting. He’d been here three hours — that was polite enough.
A group approached, feigning familiarity.
“Franz. Leaving already?”
“Is the card game not fun? You’re not coming.”
Billy Edmond and his close friend George Hamilton — pathetic men for whom gambling and women were everything. No wonder George’s nickname was “Dirty George.”
“If you say we were waiting for you, your pockets must be stuffed?”
“Is that what you think? Haha. We should be careful then.”
“You haven’t been coming to the card room much. It’s been awfully boring lately.”
Franz drew a clear boundary from the two men who clung to him without tact.
“Busy.”
“Oh! In love?”
When George chuckled, Billy quickly tugged at him.
“Why? Everyone knows about it.”
“What do you want to say?”
A brief silence, then words with a dangerous tone. But George, drunk, lacked subtlety.
“Hey, hey. You’ve been seeing that boring Miss Clarence; you’ve gotten so dull. Or have you discovered some other fun we don’t know of? Haha.”
George laughed as if he thought his joke delightful.
Franz’s blue eyes sank cold and his clenched fist whitened with strength.
“Stop it, George. Tone it down.”
Billy, who still had some sense despite being drunk, tried to stop him, but George didn’t know limits.
“If you tame a stony woman well she can be good in many ways. Those types are often passionate in bed. There’s pleasure in conquering them, you know? So Franz, don’t keep her to yourself, share her with us.”
George overstepped. Billy shut his eyes and muttered, “What a madman,” and at the same moment Franz’s fist struck George’s face with a sharp blow.
What they feared happened. George staggered from the force.
It was time for the ball, so few people were in the entrance hall — just some servants and a few passing garden guests. Someone screamed faintly, but the mansion’s music and laughter drowned it and no one came out.
Franz kept punching; George couldn’t withstand it and collapsed, sprawling.
George, struck and drunk, had no resistance. But Franz didn’t stop. He followed with kicks.
Rage erupted like a volcano. He was like a beast who couldn’t control his fury.
“Stop it, Franz.”
Billy grabbed Franz’s arm and clung to him.
“Let go. Damn it, let go! I’ll kill that bastard.”
Franz swung like a madman.
“Please, stop. He’s drunk and not in his right mind.”
Billy clung with all his strength to restrain Franz. If he didn’t, George might actually die.
Damn. What a hassle having a bad friend.
As the commotion continued, people started to emerge into the entrance hall and ring them.
“Oh? Franz!”
Andrew and Richard spotted Franz during the chaos and helped Billy pull Franz away from George. The three together barely managed to separate him — Franz was in a state of excitement.
“What the hell is this?”
“Calm down, Franz.”
Despite the ongoing admonitions, Franz tilted his head as if calming and breathed heavily.
“Ugh.”
Pain hit George all over; he bent over and groaned.
When Franz tried to approach George again, Andrew tightened his hold.
“Let go.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not going to kill him. So let go.”
Pushed by the arms holding his, Andrew and Richard reluctantly released him. Some of his reason seemed to be coming back.
Franz went to the sprawled George, grabbed him by the collar, and hauled him up.
“Ugh. Fr—Franz.”
“Watch your tongue. You are not someone to speak of recklessly.”
Franz’s cold, bluish eyes stared sharply and George trembled. Blood had probably come from his mouth; dark blood oozed between his trembling lips.
“A-alright.”
“And damn it, I don’t share what’s mine with anyone. Understand?”
The sharp warning spat out as if he were chewing on his disgust made George nod fearfully. Even that motion was clanky and broken with pain.
George realized belatedly he had gone too far, but he never imagined Franz would be this angry. Facing that manic gaze, George’s body shrank.
“You don’t have to thrash about; I’ll break it for you, so don’t bother.”
Franz dropped his hand that had grabbed George’s collar to the floor as if throwing something filthy, then shook his hand as if cleaning it.
“If you’re aggrieved, bring a lawyer to Granville. I’ll countersue for defamation.”
The carriage was already waiting in the entrance hall amid the commotion. Ignoring the curious onlookers, Franz climbed in without looking back.
As the carriage started, he took off his dirty glove and threw it away in a fit of annoyance. His movements were prickly; the anger hadn’t subsided.
“How dare they……”
Just imagining it made him feel foul and dirty. An unpleasant feeling crept up.
He wasn’t unfamiliar with leering people who nosed around what he cared for like hyenas — people making low sexual jokes. You could just ignore such low-class men.
Yet now he felt unusually angry and dirty; it grated on him. He couldn’t control the feeling that might explode at any moment.
