Chapter 41
The Duchess blinked rapidly.
What on earth had she just heard?
She had certainly listened to the exchange, yet her mind refused to process it properly.
No—more precisely, she couldn’t believe what she had just heard.
Then, as if reality finally caught up with her, she recalled the last words Sigmund had spoken.
“Sigmund! What on earth are you talking about?”
The Duchess turned to him, her face filled with disbelief.
“As you’ve already heard, Mother,” Sigmund replied smoothly. “I already have this person by my side, so I need no one else.”
His voice carried a sweetness that bordered on affectionate.
Arnulph, however, failed to notice that Sigmund had deliberately said this person instead of Joseph.
He was too busy being shocked by the strong arm suddenly wrapping around his waist.
By the time he thought to pull away, Sigmund had already drawn him close—so close that Arnulph could feel his body heat.
Though his expression remained outwardly composed, his green eyes wavered helplessly.
Instinctively, he grabbed at Sigmund’s arm encircling his waist.
Sigmund observed him quietly, amused by the contradiction between Arnulph’s calm face and his flustered gestures.
Only when the Duchess’s trembling voice cut through the moment did he turn his head.
“Surely you don’t mean to say the two of you are courting?” she demanded.
Sigmund tilted his head slightly, blinking languidly. That alone was answer enough.
The Duchess’s hand trembled around the folds of her gown.
Even her long eyelashes—dusted with pearly powder—quivered as she stared in shock.
Watching her, Arnulph exhaled quietly.
He had tolerated the act of pretending to be Sigmund’s lover for the ball—but he had never intended to say it aloud in front of the Duchess herself.
“Think whatever you wish,” Sigmund said, resting his chin lightly on Arnulph’s shoulder.
The gesture looked—infuriatingly—tender, even affectionate.
“Sigmund,” Arnulph muttered, unable to stand it any longer.
Now it wasn’t only the Duchess; it felt as though every pair of eyes and ears in the ballroom had turned toward them.
“Lord Joseph,” the Duchess addressed him sharply, “is what Sigmund said true?”
The question redirected every gaze to Arnulph.
Suppressing a sigh, he turned toward Sigmund.
Their eyes met. Sigmund urged him silently—say it.
His violet eyes gleamed beautifully, full of expectation.
How did I end up in this situation again?
‘Right. I should’ve known I didn’t want to attend that damn party.’
This had all started because he went to that dreadful Millionen Club gathering.
Had he not gone, he wouldn’t have argued with Baron Freang. He wouldn’t have fled to the balcony to avoid the nobles.
And he certainly wouldn’t have accepted the champagne Joseph had offered him.
Still, when all was said and done, the true cause of this mess was—
‘Those eyes.’
Yes. He had to admit it.
It was his own fault for never being able to go against that gaze.
Finally, Arnulph parted his lips.
“Yes.”
Short, but powerful.
The Duchess’s face froze over.
Gasps rippled through the surrounding nobles.
So the rumors were true?!
That the infamous libertine heir and the celebrated war hero Sigmund were in a relationship—
It had sounded absurd when whispered in salons, but now it stood confirmed before their very eyes.
The ballroom erupted into a low roar of shocked murmurs.
“Well then, Mother,” Sigmund said serenely, wearing a faintly fragrant smile. “Since that’s settled, I’ll be taking my leave.”
Every gaze followed him—some stunned, some scandalized.
Among them were the young nobles the Duchess herself had carefully invited.
A soft sigh escaped from nearby—just loud enough for Sigmund to hear.
He turned toward the sound.
Arnulph was looking at him with a helpless expression, as if asking, What on earth do I do now?
But what caught Sigmund’s attention wasn’t his eyes—it was his lips, slightly parted.
This wasn’t the body Sigmund knew: not the same eyes, hair, or features.
By all logic, this appearance should have held no allure. And yet—
Just knowing you were inside it made even that face seem… captivating.
He wanted to lean down, press their lips together, and feel that soft warmth.
Instead, Sigmund simply raised a hand and brushed his thumb across Arnulph’s lips.
“What are you doing?”
Arnulph’s tone was incredulous; his brow furrowed as he looked at Sigmund.
Sigmund withdrew his hand, smiling gently.
“I want to kiss you,” he murmured.
“…!”
“But I suppose I must restrain myself.”
His tone was so sincerely regretful that the tips of Arnulph’s ears turned crimson.
He quickly averted his gaze, not knowing where to look.
Sigmund’s lips curved faintly.
When he glanced around again, his eyes finally landed on the Duke of Waldeck—
a man who stood frozen like a statue.
The duke had been across the room, conversing with his entourage, and only now realized the situation.
He strode over in haste—only to stop dead when his gaze met Sigmund’s.
Then his eyes moved—
from the arm wrapped around Arnulph’s waist,
to their close proximity,
to the reddened tips of Arnulph’s ears and his flushed lips.
“You—!”
The Duke of Waldeck barely managed to choke down the shout rising in his throat.
There were too many witnesses for him to lose his composure.
He had tolerated that troublesome prince for years; he would not ruin his dignity now.
No—he must not show his temper here.
“Sigmund,” he said instead, voice taut with irritation.
Sigmund met his father’s glare calmly, not even bothering to answer.
“This is hardly behavior fit for a public gathering,” the duke said tightly.
At that, Arnulph tapped Sigmund’s arm twice—a silent plea to let him go.
Sigmund’s brow twitched in annoyance, but Arnulph didn’t notice.
“Lord Joseph seems uncomfortable as well. Release him.”
The duke’s inclusion of Arnulph only worsened Sigmund’s mood.
As if the situation weren’t bad enough—now even others dared to meddle between them.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Sigmund murmured.
“Ah…”
His breath brushed Arnulph’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine before he realized it.
He didn’t even notice that Sigmund had done it on purpose.
“Am I making you uneasy?” Sigmund whispered again, lips dangerously close to his heated ear.
Arnulph frowned and tried to lean away slightly.
“Or would you rather I take you outside like this?”
Sigmund’s tone was still teasingly calm.
“Ha…”
Why did every exchange with this man feel like a completely different conversation?
Arnulph sighed, unable to stop himself.
“No. Please let go.”
There was no way he could continue standing like this, especially under the watchful eyes of the Duke and Duchess.
Without looking at Sigmund, Arnulph spoke firmly—he knew that if he saw a sorrowful expression, his resolve might crumble.
He heard a faint click of the tongue. Then, finally, the strong arm around him loosened and fell away.
Freed, Arnulph exhaled long and slow.
The lingering warmth faded from his side.
He turned toward the Duke.
“My apologies, Your Grace, for showing you such an unseemly scene,” he said with measured politeness.
“I believe it would be best if I took my leave for today. I’ll visit again another time.”
It was a refined and proper bow—nothing like the brash “Joseph” everyone knew.
The Duke’s sharp eyes narrowed.
“It seems the recent incident has changed you a great deal,” the Duke said meaningfully.
By incident, he was clearly referring to the time Joseph—now Arnulph—had nearly drowned with Sigmund.
And by change, he might have meant either the prince’s new demeanor… or his relationship with Sigmund.
“Yes. It was quite an experience,” Arnulph replied evenly. “It made me realize a lot. I intend to start living a new life from now on.”
Beside him, Sigmund’s gaze fixed on Arnulph—listening to every word as though he might miss something vital.
“A new life…”
The Duke raised his brows slightly, feigning surprise.
Arnulph nodded calmly.
“I see. After such an ordeal, change is only natural,” the Duke said, his tone layered with implication.
“But I do hope this new path… leads to good things—for both you, and for us.”
Another statement filled with hidden meanings.
Arnulph only nodded indifferently.
“Thank you for your kind words, Your Grace. I’ll be taking my leave now.”
He bowed once more—unemotional, but impeccably polite—and turned to go.
Sigmund followed naturally at his side.
Many eyes trailed after them, whispering in their wake.
The Duke of Waldeck, however, stubbornly refused to watch them go.
His gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression harder than ever.
