Chapter 23
“Please tell him I apologize for my rudeness so early in the morning.”
The butler was taken aback by her determined attitude, as if she were about to march straight out, when Hans entered the drawing room.
“Good day, my lady. I am Hans O’Neil, in service to His Highness the Prince. His Highness has summoned you.”
Eiela hesitated for a moment, eyeing the politely bowing Hans.
Should I just leave and tell them to return it later?
No… then I’d have to see him again later.
Even if she said she was leaving, Hans—standing firmly in the doorway—did not look like he would let her go.
“Please follow me this way.”
After a brief pause, Eiela took a deep breath, as if steeling herself, and nodded.
The thought that she would actually be meeting the prince in a few minutes made her heart pound so hard she thought she might go mad. If she could have avoided it, she would have.
As she took each step toward the staircase leading to the second floor, it felt like she was heading into an unknown world.
A luxurious blue velvet carpet lined the entire staircase, while the walls were decorated with paintings by famous artists and ornate candelabras. Above all, the fresco painting on the arched ceiling above the stairs was so beautiful it drew an involuntary gasp from her lips.
“Oh my… it’s so beautiful.”
She couldn’t help but stop walking, her gaze fixed upward like a delighted child. Hans smiled at her expression.
“This was painted by Master Marzio Almonte himself when the palace was built.”
“M–Marzio Almonte? Oh… so it’s his work.”
Marzio Almonte was a renowned fresco painter. In his lifetime, he had created six remarkable ceiling frescoes—two in the royal palace, one each in the cathedral and the monastery library, and the remaining two here in Grenville Palace.
“I think I’ve heard of them before. They said Grenville Palace has two of his frescoes…”
“One is on the ceiling of the Great Hall.”
“The Great Hall… then it must be enormous.”
“It is—ten meters wide and seventy meters long, so the painting is equally massive. In June, the Prince’s birthday celebration will be held in the Great Hall, so you will be able to see it then.”
“Huh? Ah… I see.”
Not so sure about that, she thought, tilting her head. She wanted to see it, but the chances of her actually attending that event seemed slim.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
She followed Hans again. At the end of the second-floor corridor, Hans opened a door for her.
Knock knock. Passing through the antechamber, Hans knocked on the office door.
“It’s Hans.”
“Come in,” came the prince’s voice from inside. Hans opened the door, and Eiela gave him a small nod before stepping inside.
The office was filled with the warm scent of wood. Decorated with walnut paneling, golden embellishments, and a crystal chandelier, the space was both warmly inviting and dazzlingly opulent.
Prince Franz sat behind a massive desk, reading through documents.
“Your Highness, I’ve brought her.”
“Just a moment. Let me finish this.”
Without lifting his head from the papers, Franz spoke in a calm but commanding tone.
Soon, Murray and a servant entered, setting down teacups, a teapot, cookies, and a punch bowl full of ice on the table before quietly withdrawing. Once Hans left as well, only the two of them remained in the office.
Rustle, rustle. The sound of pages turning echoed quietly in the room.
The prince kept his eyes on the documents, not even glancing at her. Standing awkwardly near the door, Eiela didn’t know whether to announce herself or just wait.
At last, without looking up, Franz spoke.
“Don’t just stand there—sit.”
There was authority in his voice. She wanted to just take what she came for and leave, but she reluctantly moved to the couch in front of the table.
The moment she sat down, she was startled.
“Oh my goodness!”
The couch was far softer than she expected, and she sank into it with a muffled whump.
Her face instantly flushed red—she must have spoken far louder than she realized. She thought she heard a small, stifled chuckle… a mocking one at that.
Eiela slowly turned her head toward the prince. He was staring at his papers with a blank expression, as if he’d never laughed.
He laughed. He definitely laughed.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Great. Another blunder. It seemed she only ever managed to make a fool of herself in front of him.
“…Your Highness, will you be long?”
She fidgeted with her hands on her lap before cautiously asking.
“This is urgent business. I can’t help it. Please have some refreshments while you wait.”
So I really did come at a bad time…
When she’d been waiting in the drawing room earlier, she had thought the prince was making her wait on purpose. But now, she felt a twinge of guilt—it seemed he was truly busy.
She let her eyes wander around the office. Several paintings hung on the walls, along with some sculptures. She took in every detail, sipped the warm tea, and tapped her feet out of boredom.
Sitting quietly and waiting was no easy task. Only the faint sounds of pages turning and a pen scratching across paper broke the silence. The plush couch was so comfortable she felt she could fall asleep at any moment. In fact, she yawned twenty times.
No… I can’t…
It was all his fault. She had barely slept all night because of him, and now she was fighting to keep her eyes open.
While silently cursing Franz in her heart, she eventually dozed off, breathing softly.
“Ha!”
Franz let out a short, incredulous laugh.
He couldn’t believe it—she had fallen fast asleep, slouched comfortably against the couch.
What kind of woman is this?
His gaze, tinged with amusement, lingered on her peaceful face.
Leaning back against his desk, arms folded, Franz studied her. She looked the same as always, yet today there was something about her that drew his attention more than usual.
Her nose was small but elegantly straight, her jawline soft. Her unusually pale skin was matched by hair so light brown it was nearly blonde, and her eyes—when open—were a translucent emerald gray, likely due to her naturally light pigmentation. Strangely, her full lips were a vivid red, lending her an air of both femininity and stubborn resolve.
No makeup, yet her skin is flawless.
He disliked heavy makeup, but considered a certain degree of it a sign of self-care and a lady’s etiquette. Still, the perfect, almost excessive makeup she’d worn at the ball yesterday had felt strangely off-putting—a feeling he only now recognized.
Today, Eiela Clarence wore a simple, deep-green dress that emphasized modesty above all else. It was slightly too large for her, and a chemisette covered her neckline and chest completely.
It was the opposite of the revealing gowns worn by women desperate to show off their figures. While not exactly unpleasant to look at, there was something frustrating about it, too. The longer he stared, the more irritated he felt for reasons he couldn’t quite name.
It was as if his composure was slipping—as if he were doing something he shouldn’t.
She was the one who had fallen asleep without a care, yet somehow he was the one feeling unsettled. In a sudden fit of annoyance, he kicked the desk.
Bang!
The loud noise made Eiela stir, opening her eyes in a daze as if waking from a dream. Even fully awake, the unfamiliar surroundings made her blink and close her eyes again before reopening them.
Where am I?
The strange scent and setting startled her—until she realized where she was and sat up quickly. Only then did she notice the prince leaning casually against his desk, watching her.
She had no idea how long he had been standing there. She must have fallen asleep while silently resenting him.
“Comfortable, are we?”
She couldn’t bring herself to deny it. Embarrassed, she bit her lower lip. Then, mustering her courage, she glanced at him—only to meet his gaze directly.
His blue eyes held no warmth, and the faintly upturned corners of his mouth looked almost mocking. Something in his expression made her clench her teeth without thinking. Cold sweat dampened her back and palms.
“I couldn’t sleep a wink last night,” she said stiffly, meeting his eyes.
Maybe it was paranoia, but she felt everything—accepting Allen Ziberman’s commission, tailing someone like a spy, and her sleepless night—was entirely his fault.
Haah.
She sighed, her frustration with the complicated situation mingling with irritation at herself.
“And?”
His voice was cold enough to chill the air.
She knew it was a defensive reaction, but the prince never tolerated selfish emotional displays in situations like this. He despised people who acted petulant without even having the courage to state their feelings outright.
“…”
Eiela tried to think of an excuse, but in the end, no words came.
After the rudeness of yesterday, she had now fallen asleep in an unfamiliar place—before a man she barely knew. It was inexcusable, utterly unladylike behavior.
“Am I supposed to understand all your circumstances? It seems you’re quite the naïve young lady after all.”
His cold, cutting words jabbed at her chest without mercy.
