CHAPTER 21
Her appearance was exactly the same as the Priscilla he had once known—yet, there were subtle differences. She seemed sharper somehow…?
Unlike the ever-simple Priscilla, the current Claire was dressed in a way that was both glamorous and elegant, making her overall impression more striking.
And those cold green eyes that stared directly at him—they were not Priscilla’s.
“So this is Franz’s daughter!”
The Duke immediately grasped her identity and smirked slyly.
He had invited her out of curiosity about her.
“Tsk, not bad at all.”
It felt like the beauty he had once proudly shown off—Priscilla—had been reborn into something even more dazzling, and he liked it.
She resembled her aunt a little too much, but that made sense, given that her father and Priscilla had been twins.
Claire frowned at the unpleasant way he looked at her, as if assessing a slab of meat.
“You haven’t changed a bit, Brian Muteon.”
Still rude, still repulsive, still disgusting.
She remembered how he had treated her like a trophy in her youth, then used her as a tool as she grew older.
Theodore stepped slightly in front of Claire to shield her and spoke.
“Duke, what do you think you’re doing?”
“…Ah, my apologies, Your Highness. It’s been a while. Have you been well?”
The Duke finally tore his eyes away from Claire and offered Theodore a formal smile.
“I didn’t expect Your Highness to attend today’s party. I was quite surprised.”
“Doesn’t seem like you’re thrilled about it.”
“Haha, not at all! Why would I be? After all, Your Highness and my son are close friends—”
“Perhaps you haven’t heard that I’ve cut ties with Erik Muteon.”
At Theodore’s sharp remark, the room fell into a brief silence.
Claire looked up at him, surprised. Cut ties? They’d seemed close before…
The Duke’s lips twitched, but he forced a casual reply.
“Well, that doesn’t mean the relationship between you and our family has to end, does it?”
“I believe it ended completely a year ago.”
The Duke’s expression hardened. Several nobles began whispering amongst themselves.
Sensing the tension, Claire stepped in to smooth things over.
“His Highness prefers to make things clear. He knows it saves discomfort for everyone in the long run.”
“Do I?”
Claire gently nudged him with her elbow and smiled.
Theodore wisely chose to stay silent. The Duke gave Claire a fleeting glance—
“Haha, Your Highness, you wound me.”
And ignored her entirely.
“…?”
“Oh, that’s right. You haven’t been introduced to my wife yet. Let me do so now.”
Claire watched the Duke call over Charlotte with disbelief.
What’s he trying to pull now?
He had just approached her earlier, calling her Priscilla, and now he was pretending it never happened?
As she stared at her shameless ex-husband introducing his new wife, Claire realized his intentions.
“He has no intention of speaking to an illegitimate child publicly.”
The Duke valued appearances above all else.
Even if curiosity had driven him to invite Franz Ravello’s illegitimate daughter, he had no intention of interacting with her openly. That would only damage his own image.
“What a conniving bastard.”
Cursing inwardly, Claire turned her attention to his wife.
A young and beautiful woman blushing as she looked at the crown prince while clinging to a man old enough to be her father.
Charlotte Fennec.
Priscilla had met her once before her death.
Not to fight—but to reason with her, to convince her to stop being the Duke’s mistress.
But when Claire (as Priscilla) had gone to her with some pity and concern, Charlotte had said:
“Well, maybe you should’ve managed your husband better.”
“…Lady Fennec, what did you just say?”
“What did I do wrong? Of course the Duke prefers someone lively like me over a stiff, cold wife like you.”
After that one encounter, Priscilla realized:
Charlotte was no different from Brian Muteon.
There was no need to pity her for her poor background or excuse her behavior due to youth. She was simply that kind of person.
“Still, I don’t really hate her.”
She had never loved Brian anyway.
If anything, it was laughable that she had once tried to hold onto someone like that.
“You can have him, Charlotte.”
And may you fall into ruin with him when the time comes.
“So, did Your Highness attend the party alone today?”
The Duke asked with feigned innocence, wrapping his arm around Charlotte’s waist.
Theodore looked at him in silence for a moment, then replied bluntly:
“Lady Ravello is my partner.”
“…Pardon? Surely, you’re joking?”
The Duke looked between them, flustered, then let out an awkward laugh.
“Well, a little thrill now and then isn’t so bad. But do be cautious. You never know what might happen.”
The odd choice of words irritated Theodore, who answered coldly:
“I won’t be making the kind of mistakes you do, so don’t worry.”
“….”
The Duke’s lips twitched violently.
Claire could guess what he’d just barely refrained from saying.
No doubt it was something like ‘that disrespectful brat.’ He used to say that all the time.
“…I’ll be taking my leave now.”
Not wanting to let things escalate further in front of others, the Duke was the first to retreat.
Claire watched his back as he walked away and let out a faint, bitter laugh.
Their encounter had ended more anticlimactically than she expected.
But she knew exactly why.
“Brian Muteon looks down on me completely.”
As Priscilla Ravello, he may have used her like a tool, but at least he acknowledged her as a fellow noble.
But now, as the illegitimate daughter barely bearing the Ravello name, he saw her only as a curiosity—not even worth dealing with directly.
In a way, it was a relief.
But it also stung her pride.
Because it was a painful reminder that even now, she couldn’t stand on equal footing with Brian Muteon.
“This won’t do. I can’t stay like this…”
She clenched her fist so tightly her nails dug into her palm—when suddenly, a warm hand gently wrapped around her wrist.
“Are you all right?”
Theodore tilted his head slightly, looking down at her.
His piercing blue eyes brought her back to her senses.
“Yes, I’m fine. But… why are you speaking formally all of a sudden?”
“Oh.”
Theodore scratched the back of his neck.
“Must’ve picked it up while talking to the Duke.”
“…Really?”
Claire gave a small smile. It reminded her of when he was younger, awkwardly trying to sound grown-up.
“Have you been well, my lady?”
“Your Highness? We just saw each other yesterday. Isn’t that greeting a bit much?”
“…R-Really?”
“Yes, please speak comfortably.”
But Theodore had never once spoken comfortably around her.
Probably because of Erik Muteon’s influence—he’d always treated her with cold hostility.
The thought left a faint bitterness in her mouth.
Unaware of her thoughts, Theodore said flatly:
“Stay close to me for the rest of the evening.”
“Yes.”
Claire answered obediently.
Whether fortunate or not, she had no further contact with the Duke that night.
She simply watched from afar as the ex-husband she wanted to kill strolled through the party with his young new wife on his arm.
After the party, Claire rode back to the mansion in Theodore’s carriage.
As he helped her down, she offered a polite farewell.
“Thank you for escorting me, Your Highness. Please travel safely.”
“Of course.”
Just as Theodore was about to let go of her hand and turn away, he suddenly gripped it again.
“—Wait.”
Claire looked at him in confusion.
“What is it?”
“I’ve decided. I think you’re the best choice.”
“…For what?”
She tilted her head at his cryptic statement. Under the moonlight, his face was shadowed like a painting—and he was smiling.
He leaned in slightly. His face came so close that Claire flinched instinctively.
Then, in a deep, soft voice, he whispered:
“To be my lover.”
“…What?”
Claire’s eyes widened in shock. For a moment, she thought he was joking, but his gaze was serious.
He meant it.
“But… why all of a sudden?”
Claire tried to pull her hand away, flustered. But Theodore held onto her fingertips and added:
“I want you to be my fake lover.”
“Fake…?”
“Yes. I need someone to play the role, so others won’t bother me.”
His fresh green eyes blinked slowly. After gathering her composure, Claire asked calmly:
“Why me, of all people?”
