As the lights dimmed one by one, indicating the start of the play, the audience hushed in anticipation. The heavy damask curtain in deep green lifted, revealing a beautifully dressed actress stepping onto the stage.
A server, who had momentarily stepped away, returned with a silver platter bearing two glasses of wine. Richard picked up one and handed it to Charlotte.
“Drink.”
Her gaze fixated on his elegant, long fingers, Charlotte lifted her head. Under the dim light, his piercing violet eyes shimmered mysteriously, reminiscent of an alligator’s—enticing yet unreadable.
“Before I have to feed you.”
As her hesitation lingered, Richard’s patience wore thin. Charlotte finally reached out towards the man who seemed about to drop his facade.
“I’ll drink.”
With that, she downed the wine in one go.
As the performance unfolded, Charlotte was quickly drawn into the unfamiliar world presented on stage. The beautiful singing, elaborate costumes, the orchestra’s play, and the lyrical narrative of the play absorbed her attention.
Unconsciously leaning towards the balcony, she felt a heavy weight on her hand. In the dim light, Richard covered her hand with his own, intertwining their fingers with firmness.
The warmth felt through their gloves sent a tingling sensation starting from where they touched. Charlotte instinctively straightened her back as Richard delicately began peeling off her glove, moving from the back of her hand upwards.
“Ah…”
Caught in a discreet yet provocative seduction, Charlotte’s breath grew shallow. The stage that had just captivated her gaze now faded from view. Just as she felt as though she might faint from lack of oxygen, Charlotte suddenly stood up. The audacious man grasped her waist, almost pulling her back down before she whispered urgently.
“I feel dizzy… maybe it’s the wine. I need a moment.”
The excuse seemed desperate, a hurried fabrication to escape a potential devouring, but the intoxication was real. The unfamiliar, expensive alcohol had not agreed with her. Feeling overheated, Charlotte quickly left the hall without giving Richard a chance to detain her.
Without him by her side, she felt a liberating breath of air. Guided by an attendant, Charlotte headed to the ladies’ powder room. It was still early for intermission, so the room was empty.
“I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
“There’s no need, but thank you.”
Her polite refusal masked her discomfort, and Charlotte entered. The powder room was spacious, typical of a large theater, complete with dressing tables for freshening up, comfortable couches, and decorative plants, all contributing to a cozy atmosphere.
“…It’s hot.”
Charlotte approached a wide window and opened it. The night air, edging into early winter, was notably chillier. The cool breeze soothed her flushed cheeks. As she closed her eyes to enjoy the cold air, the sound of the door opening behind her was nearly imperceptible.
“You…”
A cautious voice made her turn too late; someone was already close. The woman who had approached startled Charlotte, who stumbled backward but thankfully landed on a couch right beneath the window. They awkwardly sat facing each other on the couch, and the woman smiled.
“Charlotte, right?”
“…Miss Denoir.”
“It’s been a while. I didn’t expect to see you here like this.”
“That’s…”
Unlike the pleased woman, Charlotte’s face was pale. Louise realized her oversight in thinking about Charlotte’s distressed expression.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
Richard Kensington was known for his cold demeanor towards clingy women, which even led to rumors questioning his sexuality. That such a man was now openly escorting a woman with tenderness was noteworthy. The pretense of nobility must have cracked for those watching, whose sharp, scrutinizing glances Charlotte could easily recall. It was clear why Charlotte was fearful.
Louise, staring into Charlotte’s frightened, innocent green eyes, recalled an event from a few days ago.
It was a day when even her father was absent. The sudden announcement by a maid that he had come was enough to make Louise doubt her ears. She had thought their connection was completely severed, that she had moved on without a trace of lingering attachment. Yet, a faint hope had smoldered within her. Seemingly to cut off even that last possibility, Richard, whom she hadn’t seen in a long time, arrived with an indifferent expression and dropped a bombshell.
“I have a small proposal to make.”
“A proposal?”
The chilling truth that followed felt like ice water poured over her head. The man she had thought would marry a duchess or a foreign princess had a lover—and it was the maid who had clung to her at that day’s ball, pleading for her to save him. She seemed pretty but destitute, always tearful.
Frozen by the shocking revelation, Louise watched as Richard rose from his seat without having sipped his tea.
“…and I would like you to look after her as a friend. She’ll try to run away every time she is brought out in front of people.”
He seemed to consider his request already concluded as he picked up his coat and pulled something from his pocket.
“Of course, there will be a sufficient reward.”
It was a blank check signed by him. Any amount written on it would be honored at the bank.
With her family’s fortunes dwindling and the last hope severed, the head of the Denoir household showed willingness to trade his daughter for a suitable price whenever a man was ready to pay. For Louise, desperate in her circumstances, it was a powerful temptation that was difficult to ignore.
As her trembling hands accepted the check, Richard turned his back as if expecting her acceptance. She couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you going to such lengths?”
“…”
“Is it really that serious between you two?”
Asking a noblewoman like her to become friends meant he intended to integrate his lover into aristocratic society, implying an intention to marry her. The questions continued to pour out once she started.
“Noble men are not supposed to marry a maid.”
“That’s not for you to know.”
“Have you thought about how much she’ll get hurt in the process?”
Her question was not out of jealousy. Born into nobility and a part of high society herself, she had learned brutally as her family became impoverished that there was no class as hypocritically arrogant and exclusive as the aristocracy.
“If you love her that much, wouldn’t it be better to elope?”
She couldn’t continue her passionate plea. Richard turned back.
“Miss Denoir.”
He looked up defiantly at her, confronting the woman who challenged him. Before Louise could retreat, he reached out and lifted her chin.
“You seem to be under some misconception, but I am not a fool who throws everything away for love, rushing headlong into the flames.”
His polite address had naturally shifted to a more disdainful tone. His unhidden contempt was clear in his icy gaze.
“Nor am I one to blubber about love and wait, only to seek out the next fiancée immediately.”
“…”
“Do I look like a naive boy who tearfully promises a safe return over and over?”
As he spoke, Louise’s eyes widened. She had thought those memories erased, forgotten.
The man who had returned from the brink of death had never sought her out, and on the rare occasions they crossed paths, he quickly turned his head away. She would have preferred it if his indifference stemmed from hatred, but it was simply a lack of interest.
Her lips trembled. After witnessing the storm that had passed over her face, Richard finally withdrew his hand.
‘If you understand, I’ll be waiting for your call.’
As Richard strode purposefully towards the door and exited the reception room, Louise hurried after him, grabbing his arm in desperation.
“Just this, please tell me just this one thing.”
“…”
“Did you love me at all, even a little, two years ago?”
A tense silence passed between them. Richard tilted his head slightly, as if pondering, before he quietly responded.
“Perhaps.”
His tone was detached, as if relaying someone else’s message—a stark, chilling distance in his voice. Louise had no time to digest this dissonance; he left as abruptly as he had arrived.
The flashback ended. Louise opened her eyes, which she had briefly closed in reflection, and smiled at Charlotte. She then rose from the couch, picked up a teapot from the table, and poured it into a cup placed in front of them.
“It seems you’re a bit tipsy. Drink this.”
Richard Kensington was a man of unsettling thoroughness. He was well aware that his relationship with Charlotte Hegel was on tenuous grounds, always on the brink of breaking. Therefore, he was likely planning ahead, blocking any possible escapes and tightening his hold on his lover however he could.
He intended to have it all, not giving up on anything.
The shy, quiet young man who hadn’t yet come into his own was long gone. The man who had returned was someone else entirely. Louise had finally come to accept this reality.
🍉🍉🍉
