Decided To Become A Bad Wife

Chapter 37

Having barely eaten his breakfast, Stefan left the dining room and went into the study, replaying Rachel’s words in his mind.

“…Even though it’s a marriage of convenience, I too want to believe that this is the beginning of a fateful encounter for us.”

Rachel’s face had turned red as she spoke, almost as if she were shyly confessing her feelings like a young girl.

“Could she really mean it? It must be some kind of ploy to shake me.”

But something about what she had added kept gnawing at him.

“Choosing a dress for her… What a strange request…”

Stefan had to admit he’d been caught in his own game. He had hoped to win her favor and find out her intentions by helping her select a dress. And yet, here he was, shaken by a confession that was clearly a lie, agreeing to her trivial request.

“It feels like I’m constantly stumbling… Damn it…”

***

By the afternoon, the duke’s residence was bustling with activity.

It seemed that the tailor shop had gone all out, sending an array of pamphlets and costly fabrics in various styles and colors.

“Hello? We’re from Roman’s Tailor. Where would you like us to unload everything, Mr. Butler?”

“Let’s head to the parlor. But you don’t intend to bring everything in, do you?”

Thomas’s displeasure was obvious. Though the duke had called in the tailor personally for his wife, the scale of the display resembled a debutante’s ‘toilette officielle’ in the imperial palace, which made him uncomfortable.

At least Lady Susan’s dress would also be tailored here; otherwise, the Dowager would have already made a scene if it were solely for the Duchess.

“How about we bring things in over three trips?”

The tailor, eager to sell every piece he’d brought, showed no intention of compromising.

“Let’s do that. Be careful not to raise dust; His Grace does not appreciate such things.”

“Did you say the duke himself would be helping choose the duchess’s dress?”

The astonished tailor widened his eyes, and Thomas gave a cautious nod, understanding his reaction.

The Duke of Edmond, who didn’t even care about selecting his own clothes, had decided to personally pick out his wife’s dress. This was undoubtedly encouraging for the duchess, though it left everyone else feeling tense.

Already wiping his forehead with his sleeve, the tailor began sorting the fabrics by price, planning to present the most expensive ones first to capture the duke’s attention.

Thomas, too, hoped the tailor’s shallow scheme would work so that the duchess’s ‘toilette officielle’ wouldn’t drag on endlessly.

“The first display is ready, Mr. Butler.”

At the tailor’s report, Thomas nodded and guided the duke and duchess, who were waiting in the adjacent room, into the parlor.

Rachel, linking arms with Stefan, was dressed in a light, flowing blue dress, while Stefan wore a sharp sky-blue suit. The tailor, feeling intimidated by their impeccably styled appearance, was so tense that his mouth felt dry.

“I sincerely thank you, Your Grace, for choosing Roman’s Tailor. I’ll ensure everything is prepared with utmost dedication, leaving nothing lacking.”

Stefan offered a formal smile to the overly polite tailor.

“I believe your gratitude should go to the Duchess, as she will be the one wearing the dress.”

At his pointed remark, the tailor’s face turned ashen. Rachel chuckled slightly at his reaction and kindly came to the tailor’s defense.

“Since His Grace will be making the selection, I don’t think the tailor’s gratitude was misplaced, don’t you?”

“Is that so?”

“Certainly, Your Grace.”

The Duke of Edmond, known for his cold demeanor, agreeing with his wife’s opinion seemed to lift some color back into the tailor’s face. Keenly observant, he sensed that the duchess held a higher influence here than the duke.

“I’ve brought all the fabrics currently trending in the capital. If you’ll take a seat here, Duchess, I’ll present each fabric personally.”

Following his direction, Rachel gracefully sat down in the chair placed at the center of the parlor.

Stefan, seated on the opposite sofa, crossed his long legs with an indifferent expression. Uncomfortable with the unintended face-to-face position, he awkwardly picked up a teacup—a habit he normally didn’t indulge in.

Noticing this, Rachel smiled slightly, and the tailor admired how beautiful the duchess was.

“For softer fabrics, I’ll drape them around your neck, and for stiffer fabrics, I’ll place them on your shoulders.”

“All right.”

With skilled hands, he wrapped a soft fabric around Rachel’s neck. His touch was so deft and gentle that the texture of the fabric was immediately felt against her skin.

“Blue truly suits you well, Duchess.”

“What do you think, Your Grace?”

“It looks fine.”

After giving this standard response, Stefan’s gaze quickly shifted. He seemed more interested in where the tailor’s hands were lingering rather than the color of the fabric itself.

Without realizing it, the tailor had left his fingers resting lightly on Rachel’s long, slender neck. Though there was fabric between them, it wasn’t direct contact.

“There are many shades of blue. Vibrant colors like cobalt or lapis blue are lovely, but for the coming fall and winter, something more subtle like sky blue or teal might be suitable.”

He quickly draped another blue fabric around her neck, once again, almost habitually, letting his fingers linger on her neck.

Stefan, finding this scene increasingly irritating, stood up from the sofa and approached the tailor, whispering in a low growl.

“I think it’s best if I handle this myself.”

“Oh… Yes, Your Grace. Please, go ahead.”

Hurriedly stepping aside, he brought a large mirror for the duke and duchess.

Now assuming the tailor’s role, Stefan found himself draping and removing fabric from Rachel’s neck repeatedly. To him, all the fabrics looked the same, and the countless blue shades were starting to make him feel nauseous.

Then he thought of trying a different color.

“Do you have any purple fabrics?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Stefan reached out and took a purple fabric from the tailor’s hands, almost snatching it. He wrapped it around Rachel’s neck and looked into the mirror.

“It’s the same—exactly the same as those violet eyes.”

A shiver ran through him, and he unknowingly trembled. Noticing this, Rachel’s gaze shifted to him.

“Do you like this color, Your Grace?”

“…Yes, I do.”

“So do I. Let’s have a dress made in this color, too.”

Forcing himself to look away from the mirror, Stefan continued selecting fabrics. Eventually, his fingers lingered on one with an especially captivating texture.

“This one is exceptionally soft.”

“It’s silk imported from the East. It’s so soft because it’s hand-spun. Naturally, it’s also quite costly.”

The tailor proudly explained, but Rachel suddenly interjected.

“Your Grace, do you like the feel of this fabric?”

“It’s not that I like it…”

“Tailor, can you make a slip out of this fabric?”

“A… a slip?”

The tailor’s face flushed bright red in embarrassment, while Stefan’s face turned pale.

Unlike the men, Rachel remained entirely composed.

“Make a slip with this fabric.”

“Uh… what kind of design…?”

“What design does a slip need? As long as it feels soft to the touch, flows smoothly, and can be easily removed…”

The tailor’s face turned a deep red, almost as if it would burst, and the atmosphere grew awkward, as everyone understood exactly what Rachel was implying.

Hastily interrupting, Stefan cut in.

“I think that’s enough fabric. Are we moving on to measurements now?”

“Oh… Yes, Your Grace. Duchess, would you please come over here?”

As he started to guide Rachel behind a partition to take her measurements, Stefan’s long arm blocked his path.

“You’re not planning to take the Duchess’s measurements yourself, are you?”

“Your Grace, I’m known as the most precise tailor in the capital.”

“No, bring in another tailor.”

“What?”

He looked dumbfounded, not grasping Stefan’s intent, as the duke’s eyes flared with a fiery intensity.

“I said, bring a female tailor here immediately.”

The tailor’s face, which had only just calmed, flushed red once again.