The Duke’s Imposter Sister

Gris has come to realize that the servants always muffled their steps. The owner of those footsteps would be either Vianut or Stephans.

Not wanting to see either of them, Griss smile died. The footsteps grew heavier, and her heart raced faster as she gradually became certain that the steps were coming towards the study.

When she gripped on the brush too harshly, Frenze pointed it out to her. Then, the footsteps stopped.

The door to the study slowly opened. Now pale, Gris turned her head towards the door.

She expected Stephan to be standing by the doorway, so she placed her gaze at where she expected to meet eyes with him. But instead, her eyes met an adams apple.

She raised her gaze to see who it was. She noticed right away even when a dark shadow covered the mans face.

It was Vianut van Byrenhag, the man with a fine, but mercilessly cold face.

Spotting him, Frenze hastily took off his hat and bent his waist forward.

Si-sir Byrenhag. It is an honor to meet you. I am Frenze, in charge of Madam Yulianas art lessons, he stuttered.

Vianut stopped and looked around the study. He must have come for a book. Realizing this, Frenze fixed his eyes to the floor and continued to stutter on.

Unfortunately, we were allocated to hold my lessons in your old study. Madam Paola gave us permission but if you are not comfortable with it, I am happy to move to a different room.

Not recognizing this man she had seen before, Teer hid below a sofa with full alert. Vianut looked at Teer and then caught eyes on the hem of Griss yellow dress. Gris urgently stood up to greet him, realizing she hadnt done so due to being so nervous at his appearance.

Its been a long time, sir she said. When she was greeted by his silence, she continued, I apologize for not coming to you first when I heard you were back.

She almost started to sweat on her belly where she neatly placed her hands. She wanted him to greet her as well but what came back was an unexpected remark.

Ah, youre still here, he said with a smirk on his face.

It meant that he thought she would have run away or been kicked out of the house during his departure. He slowly approached her as he continued.

You must be either one, he said. Either bold or really her.

Liking her glossy hair treated with camellia oil, Vianut lightly gripped her locks and felt its texture. He was like a child, touching anything that fascinated him.

He then glimpsed at the painting of the apple. Trying to read the atmosphere, Frenze took the opportunity and jumped to explain it to him.

Madam Yuliana here is extremely talented with her brush strokes, just like Madam Paolas famous painting skills among high society. With just a couple of more practices, she will be an outstanding painter, he blurted out.

It sounded like sweet talk to keep himself as an art teacher in the mansion. Vianut frowned as if Frenzes words got on his nerves.

How funny.

Frenze stood wide-eyed, trying to understand what was going on. Vianut kindly explained to Frenze, like he always did to ignorant people.

That you say shes just like my mother.

I have to check it myself.

Then he pulled out a pocket watch from the pockets of his black fur cloak. Gris took in short breaths, she wasnt the least comfortable. She thought that Frenze had triggered Vianut to test her identity with his outrageous words.

Wanting to say something, she looked up to him, opening and closing her lips but failed to let out words. It was when she noticed the lashes of his eyes that looked down at her were very long.

Draw me.

Sporting a cold smile, he slowly walked towards the sofa by the window and plopped down on it. Frenze was nervous at the situation that suddenly developed before him.

Si-sir. Madam Yuliana may be an excellent painter, but she needs more practice to paint portraits, he reasoned as he gave desperate looks to Gris.

Gris didnt know what to do. Should she say she would practice on her painting and offer to paint him another time?

Soon, she finally opened her stiff mouth. Vianut laid down on the sofa, resting his head on the armrest while looking up to the ceiling, and interjected before she could speak.

Ill be the one to judge.

The sofa was wide enough for three people, but his legs were protruding out the armrest at the other end. The other leg he couldnt fit on the sofa was supporting his body from the floor.

Perhaps he was trying to get rid of the talkative art teacher and his so-called sister, altogether. Gris wanted to paint a perfect portrait and proudly present it to Vianut, but she knew more than anyone she didnt possess the skills.

She put down her brush and carefully opened her lips to speak. I deeply apologize but my painting skills are not enough. If you give me more time

Vianut interrupted before she could finish her sentence. Sure, Yuliana. He then smiled carelessly and mumbled to himself.Yuliana, YulianaGris could see he still was still not used to calling her Yuliana.

She had to make a decision: either to put in an effort to draw him well or refuse his orders and grow even more distant than they already were. Unable to bring herself to reject his orders, Gris sat gloomily in front of the easel.

Then, she whispered to Frenze to go and find Stephan. Please note Stephan about this situation.

Nodding his head, Frenze said out loud he had to fetch more charcoal and left the room. Gris wrapped the single piece of charcoal with cotton and firmly gripped onto it as she started to sketch the outlines of Vianut lying on the sofa.

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