Chapter 68
“That’s a wonderful idea.”
Layla beamed and walked closer to Rainier, taking his arm.
“Let’s go upstairs. Our guest must be waiting.”
At her words, Rainier adjusted his mask, shot William a cold glare, then turned his gaze forward and walked on.
“My, thank you for coming all the way to my estate.”
Layla smiled as she walked with the Lady of Weimar toward her room.
“Not at all, my lady. I’m just happy I can show you my maid’s skills.”
Layla glanced at Catherine and smiled.
Lately, Catherine had found it hard to be mean to Layla—she kept tugging at her heart.
If she displeased the Countess, it would interfere with repaying her debt. And Catherine’s debt had been incurred for her deceased daughter’s hospital bills.
Perhaps that was why, every time she saw Layla—often sick and with eyes as brilliantly sky-blue as her daughter’s—she couldn’t help but think of the child she had lost.
Even now, she thought: If my daughter had lived, she’d be Layla’s age. And if we hadn’t gone bankrupt, she’d be wearing dresses and living as a baron’s daughter.
She knew it was presumptuous to think of Layla as her daughter, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Catherine, are you feeling unwell?”
Layla asked, noticing the pallor in Catherine’s face. Catherine shook her head.
“No, my lady. I was just thinking about how to do my very best.”
“Oh, my.”
The Lady of Weimar spoke brightly, then headed toward her room.
Until now, she had met Layla in the duke’s outer reception rooms or outside, but this was the first time she had invited her into her private chambers.
“I want to be made especially beautiful today.”
She sat before her dressing table.
“My lady, you’re a beauty no matter what. I truly admire women like you—capable, dignified, and beautiful.”
Layla met her gaze as if she meant every word. The lady smiled shyly.
“You do know how to make someone feel good, Layla.”
“And you do the same for me, my lady. Just being beside you puts me in a good mood.”
That wasn’t a lie. The longer the Lady of Weimar stayed in Mont, the more wealth Layla accumulated.
And in truth, it was beneficial for the lady as well.
Eclaire had originally been a salon catering to young noblewomen, but it suffered from poor management—especially with a man like Hugo running it.
Mont, on the other hand, kept its staff neatly uniformed and well-mannered. And whenever one visited, there was a good chance of meeting Crown Prince Anasis.
For a duchess’s household, being treated on equal footing with royalty was advantageous. Nobility stood just below royalty in rank, yet in Mont, they were treated almost the same.
On top of that, Mont had been subtly fostering a connection between the Lady of Weimar and Crown Prince Anasis.
The lady valued Layla’s business acumen and knack for handling people. Even her attendants—usually difficult with other young ladies—found Layla endearing now.
They hadn’t liked her before, due to the Siever affair. But after witnessing Hugo’s disgrace at Mont and recalling the false rumors Layla had endured, they couldn’t help feeling sympathy.
It took only a year in society to realize how cruel it could be—there was never a shortage of people suffering from malicious gossip.
Layla had fit herself perfectly into the lady’s circle, and the Lady of Weimar seemed pleased by it.
“Oh my, what an unusual technique.”
“Our Catherine is truly skilled.”
Layla smiled as Catherine curled the lady’s hair with a heated rod.
“She’s also amazing at makeup. I get mine done by her every day, and it always makes me look so lively.”
“Lively?”
“Yes… I’m often sick, you see. Without makeup, I look pale, and I hate it.”
Layla smiled wryly and glanced at the lady through the mirror.
“Sit down nearby, Layla. Don’t just stand.”
“Thank you.”
Layla pulled up a chair and sat, watching Catherine work. Catherine, meanwhile, felt a strange pang in her chest—almost as if she were looking at her own daughter.
“There are many doctors in the duke’s household. May I have one examine you, Lady Layla?”
“Yes, could you arrange that next time?”
“I will.”
When Catherine was done, the lady’s hair was curled into soft, luscious waves, and her makeup flawless. She looked more beautiful than she ever had before and was clearly satisfied.
Afterward, they set out for the opera house.
“Why are you still wearing a mask here?”
Crown Prince Anasis looked at Rainier—whom he believed to be Prince Fernando Lutenberg—and asked.
“I’d be sad if people compared me to Your Highness.”
“You had no such qualms when we were with my knights.”
“That was different. They share my tastes.”
Rainier recalled the reports he’d received, prompting Anasis to pat him on the shoulder with a mocking grin.
“If you must pursue one of them, stick to the one with gray hair. She might end up my wife.”
“You mean the lady?”
“Yeah.”
“And Layla?”
“She’s my business partner, so leave her be. She’s already engaged—to someone else. And she’s my lover. Don’t you dare touch her.”
“…I see.”
Rainier smiled faintly, hiding his clenched fist behind his back.
“If you need a woman to warm your bed, I can always arrange that.”
“Yes.”
“Or I can send you men like last time.”
“As I told you before, I enjoy drinking with them, but I’m not interested in sleeping with them.”
“Still on about that chastity thing?”
“Yes. Even if she’s not, I want to stay pure. That way, when I give myself, it’s entirely mine to give.”
Anasis scoffed.
“Men don’t show it. Not like women.”
“The heart shows it.”
Shaking his head at Rainier’s earnestness, Anasis moved on.
“I greet the Empire’s little sun.”
Layla and the Lady of Weimar bowed. Anasis gave them a false smile.
He had intended to praise the lady’s elaborate appearance, but it wasn’t easy. She had set aside her usual dignity and dressed like a young maiden, beautiful in a way that suited her age.
But ironically, it was Layla—dressed simply to highlight the lady—who looked even more stunning today.
Perhaps it was the fresh rain, but her vivid pink hair and glacial-blue eyes stood out more than ever.
“You’re truly beautiful, my… lady.”
He tore his gaze from Layla and addressed the Lady of Weimar.
“Far lovelier than usual. I didn’t know you had this side to you.”
“Oh my.”
“And your hair is charming. How was it done?”
He picked up a curl and kissed it. Meeting his eyes, the lady caught her breath.
“Layla’s maid helped me.”
“I see.”
His mother’s words came back to him:
‘It’s best if the Lady of Weimar proposes first.’
‘Weren’t you planning not to marry until you ascended the throne?’
‘Didn’t you want Lady Abière as your concubine? Then listen to me. If she proposes, her dowry will multiply, and it’ll all go toward making you Emperor.’
Remembering that soured his mood, but he forced himself to think of it as something for his benefit.
Taking the lady’s hand, he murmured in her ear,
“Show me this side of you more often. It’s truly impressive.”
Without realizing it, he glanced at Layla’s expression.
She had been staring off blankly, but when their eyes met, she acted the part of someone trying to hide sadness. She even discreetly faked a yawn to wipe at her eyes.
Then she linked arms with Rainier—still disguised as Fernando Lutenberg.
“You wear your mask even outside?”
“Yes.”
Layla thought his smile looked unusually genuine.
“Let’s go inside.”
Anasis fixed his gaze back on the Lady of Weimar, though he had lingered a moment on Layla and Rainier’s linked arms.
As they walked ahead, Rainier and Layla followed.
Loosening her grip on his arm, Rainier entwined his fingers with hers and whispered so only she could hear:
“I’ll let you drink my blood later.”
For a moment, Layla thought he had just promised her a kiss, and her cheeks flushed.
“You’re insane.”
Even so, she sighed inwardly, remembering she still had about three hundred and forty to go.
