Please Be Patient, Grand Duke

Chapter 96.1

Claude was in disbelief. “Persuade you?” he shouted in anger, his face contorting. It was the first time he had ever raised his voice at her. Canillia didn’t avert her gaze from him, remaining undaunted by his outburst.

Claude closed his eyes for a moment and spoke, trying to suppress his anger by holding his head high. “Canillia, I didn’t keep it hidden from you to hurt you. I was scared… scared that you would resent me and be saddened because of me.” His face was filled with sorrow, emotions that Canillia recognized all too well. The fear of hiding one’s true self, the worry of disappointing those you love, and the guilt of lying to them.

“Believe me, please,” Claude implored.

Canillia had never doubted Claude before. She knew he hadn’t lied to hurt her. Nonetheless, she felt a deep sadness and heartbreak. The moonlight reflected in her green eyes, making them shimmer like a lake.

“Then please say you’re sorry,” she said, trying to hold back her tears. But they flowed down her cheeks and onto the back of her hand. “It may seem trivial, but that letter was precious to me… It made me sad. So…” Canillia’s voice came out locked and sporadic.

Claude embraced her with all his strength, his jacket emanating the rich lavender scent she had smelled on the day she first fell in love with him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for keeping it hidden, Canillia. I didn’t want you to hate me even a little bit, which is why I did it.”

Although Canillia wanted to cry and hold onto him, she knew it wouldn’t change anything. She pushed away from Claude’s chest, watching as his eyes followed her hands as they moved away from him.

“Please return the letter to me. Let me handle it myself,” Canillia said, her voice shaking.

At first, Claude hesitated, but eventually, he nodded. “Okay, let’s do that,” he agreed.

After he agreed, Canillia hugged him silently, her arms shaking as they wrapped around his back. The light from the mansion in the distance seemed far away.

He lifted his head to find her lips, and they kissed passionately. Their moist, soft tongues explored each other’s mouths. Canillia wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his blushing ear, feeling the heat of his body against hers. Despite not having had a sip of alcohol, her throat felt parched with longing. Their lips clamped together, pulling apart and then meeting again in a dance of desire.

Claude licked her bottom lip and then sat up, placing his knee on the couch. He leaned forward, and his head tilted back. The light from the garden seemed to be shining on them, reflecting on the glass of the lightly-armored castle and making the world look like it was enveloped in mist. His black hair fell on his forehead, and his breath flowed past his lips and dispersed into the white skin on his neck.

As his hot hands slipped under her dress, she shuddered from the cold. Canillia was startled and pushed him away. They were in the garden greenhouse, with glass on all sides, and even though it was dark outside, there was still light shining in different places.

As Claude’s hot hands slipped under her dress, Canillia shuddered from the sudden coldness. Startled, she pushed him away, realizing with a jolt where they were: the garden greenhouse, with glass walls on all sides. Although it was dark outside, the moonlight illuminated different parts of the garden, casting eerie shadows and glimmers of light.

With a quivering voice, she whispered, “I don’t like it here.”

Claude’s eyes locked onto Canillia’s, and he let out a deep sigh before resting his forehead against her chest. Her dress, once prim and proper, now became a disheveled mess as her heart sank further into her stomach.

They remained motionless in each other’s embrace for what felt like an eternity. Claude’s gaze seemed to drift off into the distance, while the heat emanating from his hand that trailed up her back and waist was almost scorching.

***

As Canillia returned to the reception room, she was met with the sight of the ladies preparing to retire to their bedrooms. They exchanged murmurs upon noticing her puffy, red eyes and haggard appearance. The duke had followed her out of the room earlier, and now the two of them reappeared with an unspoken air between them.

Meanwhile, the men emerged from the game room, declaring their intention to drink all night and head to the winery, thus bringing the formal dinner to an end.

As Pepe finished washing up and wearily made her way to bed, Lia beckoned her over. With a deep sigh, Lia hugged her knees and looked into Pepe’s teary eyes.

“Don’t you want to go back to Cosoar?” Lia asked gently. “Your family and friends are there, including Betty.”

At the mention of Betty’s name, Lia’s expression darkened. Pepe sulked as she watched Lia, before replying, “Although I miss my family and friends, I think the place where I want to be and the place where I should be are different. I should be with Miss. Your side is where I need to be.”

Lia nodded solemnly, wiping her own tears away as she did. Pepe stroked her shoulder and head affectionately before settling into bed and departing the room.

Lia chewed over everything that had happened throughout the day, a day that was riddled with mistakes, excuses, anxiety, and nervousness. Unable to sleep and tossing and turning, she eventually got up and went to the window. She opened her book and lit the lantern that had gone out. The soft light illuminated the table as she dipped her quill in ink and began copying each page. When her mind was complicated, she found that doing something, anything, was helpful.

But she knew that she couldn’t continue living like this, always on the brink of hunger and poverty. She didn’t want to be an aristocrat or a commoner, but something in between, something that didn’t quite fit into society.

As she read and copied, time slipped away from her, and before she knew it, dawn was breaking. The darkness receded, and the light of the lantern became useless. Lia looked up and saw a flock of migratory birds flying in the distance. The haze of the night left her intoxicated, and she closed her eyes, feeling the flood of fatigue wash over her.

She looked down at her ink-stained finger and closed her eyes. She wanted someone to move her to bed, but the heavy feeling of not wanting to move her fingertips made it seem like an impossible task.

Hours passed, and Lia fell asleep in her chair, her head resting against the cold window. Suddenly, she felt a soft sheet touch her back, and warm warmth covered her whole body. She knew it was the lavender-scented arm pillow that belonged to the person she loved.

Impulsively, she pulled the collar of his shirt off and buried her face in his chest. He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

“I love you, Canillia,” he whispered.

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