~Chapter 48~
The place where Theron set Aveline down was the most luxurious salon in the capital.
“Duke Ribes! To what do we owe the honor?” The salon’s madam herself rushed out, startled by such an important guest.
“This establishment only makes women’s clothing, you know… Eh?” The madam’s gaze drifted past Theron, landing on Aveline, who was half-hidden behind him.
“I’d like to see some shoes,” Theron said smoothly.
“Oh! Yes, of course!” The madam snapped to attention, still processing what was happening.
“I just have to ask—surely the shoes are for the young lady behind you?” She turned back to double-check, as if reality hadn’t quite set in that the notorious Duke had brought a woman to her salon.
From the madam’s rattled expression, it was clear she hadn’t yet heard about Theron’s scandalous announcement at the Nor Marquis’s ball.
Theron simply nodded, and the madam hurried away.
“Why shoes, all of a sudden?” Aveline asked once they were alone. To be swept off her feet and deposited at a high-end salon was something she never could’ve imagined.
‘Not that I’ve ever been anywhere else…’ Four years had passed, trends had changed, and new shops had sprung up—but none of it meant anything to Aveline, who’d been shut away at home.
“To buy you a pair, of course,” Theron replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Did he notice my feet were hurting? Aveline wondered, chewing her lip in embarrassment.
“Please, have a seat.” Theron took her hand and guided her to the sofa, then knelt in front of her and started unfastening her shoes with his bare hands.
“What are you doing?” Aveline was so startled by the sudden intimacy that she pulled back instinctively.
“You’re hurt.” Theron’s tone was gentle as he examined her foot, completely enveloped in his large hand.
“It comes off too easily—these shoes are too big for you.”
“I know,” she admitted.
“Then why wear shoes that don’t fit?” he asked, baffled.
“Well…” She hesitated, the truth stuck in her throat. Because wearing my mother’s things makes people like me more… It was the truth, but admitting it out loud stung.
“Well… They’re pretty, that’s all.”
In the end, Aveline said something shallow instead.
So much for yesterday’s resolve, she thought, feeling her confidence slip. All her promises to become stronger seemed hollow now.
Just then, the madam bustled back in, trailed by staff. She gasped at the sight of Theron, on his knees, holding Aveline’s bare foot.
“Oh, my goodness!”
The other staff nearly dropped their trays, gawking at the scene.
“Let go!” Flustered, Aveline instinctively kicked out—and hit Theron square in the chest.
“Ugh.” Theron doubled over, clutching his chest, his breath knocked out.
“So you really are as strong as you say,” he managed.
“A-are you okay?” Aveline’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment—she’d had some knight’s training, after all, and hadn’t meant to kick him so hard.
“It hurts,” Theron admitted, his voice a little raspy.
Startled, Aveline moved to check on him, but Theron seized her hand and pressed it to his chest.
“You hit me right here,” he said quietly, holding her hand to his heart.
What the— Aveline froze, her palm resting over a steady heartbeat. Was it his—or hers? Either way, it was strangely warm and solid beneath her hand.
Is he insane? Why put my hand there? Is he a pervert?
A memory flashed of Theron dodging that question once before, never really denying it.
Still, even through her confusion, Aveline felt the warmth beneath her hand—a quiet, hidden strength, unlike Serio’s showy muscles.
“It’s getting warm where you kicked me,” Theron whispered, lowering his lashes.
“Huh…” The dangerously close proximity of such a handsome face was hazardous for Aveline’s heart.
“Can you feel it?” Theron murmured, his voice like a slow-acting spell.
Aveline felt like a rabbit facing a snake, paralyzed, about to be swallowed whole.
The madam cleared her throat loudly, reminding them they weren’t alone.
Startled, Aveline quickly pulled her hand away. Theron closed his own around the lingering warmth, as if reluctant to let her go.
Get a grip, she told herself. He’s the very definition of a dangerously polite madman. He talks like a gentleman, but his actions say otherwise.
“These are the latest designs,” the madam said, trying to maintain composure as staff lined up shoes before Aveline.
“Not these. I want something comfortable,” Theron interjected. “Something that won’t hurt such small, delicate feet.”
Given how those very feet had just kicked him, the request felt a bit ironic, but the madam held her tongue.
Even after the shoes were chosen, Aveline spent the rest of the day with Theron, returning home only in the evening.
“Welcome back,” Count Herols greeted her at the door.
“…Were you waiting for me?” Aveline asked, seeing him outside, looking like he’d been there all day.
“Ahem. Of course not. I just went for a walk because I couldn’t sleep,” he bluffed, tugging his robe tighter over his nightclothes.
“So, what did you do today?” he asked, getting right to the point.
“I bought shoes.”
“Shoes?” The Count’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting that answer.
“Yes. The ones I wore today hurt my feet.”
“Haven’t you always managed with those shoes?” he asked, puzzled.
“They’re a bit big, so I’ve been shuffling around,” she pointed out. “Remember the night I had to go to the party for you, and I wore Mother’s shoes? You were there—you must’ve noticed they didn’t fit.”
The Count had assumed she was fine since she never complained. Now, he felt a pang of guilt.
“…Why didn’t you say anything?”
He was honestly upset with himself for not realizing sooner.
“The Duke figured it out without me saying a word,” Aveline replied.
“What?”
“Goodnight, Father.” Aveline bowed her head and headed inside. The butler, who’d been lurking by the entrance, hurried to welcome her in.
Count Herols stood in the doorway, staring blankly into the night, a hollow laugh escaping his lips.
“You’re home late,” Ares remarked, leaning against her door as Aveline made her way back to her room.
“What?”
“Hey, I’m your brother. I’m allowed to worry,” Ares grumbled, frowning.
“Anyway, was everything all right while I was gone?” Aveline asked.
Ares thought for a moment. “That Barom guy left not long after you, but otherwise, nothing happened.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Oh, right,” Ares snapped his fingers, remembering something. “Father asked me when I was finally going to track down Duke Ribes’s documents.”
Aveline blinked. It was an errand their father had given Ares a while ago.
“I thought he’d forgotten about it, but he brought it up again today.”
“What’s so important about those documents, anyway?”
“No clue,” Ares shrugged.
“So maybe that’s why Father was standing outside earlier—maybe he wanted to talk to you about it?”
Ares shrugged again. “Who knows? But he’s definitely been acting different lately. I don’t know if it’s because of those papers, but something’s going on.”
“Is that so…” Aveline pondered her brother’s words. Could it be the Crown Prince?
Her father had always been oddly wary of her getting involved with the Imperial family. She needed to figure out why.
For some reason, she thought of the late Empress, who’d died suddenly of poison not long after giving birth to the Crown Prince.
