“Ouch!” Celia had poked herself with the needle several times now. She had never learned to embroider, but as long as she was locked in her room, her options were limited. But due to her inexperience her handkerchief looked very messy.
“What is that supposed to represent?” Lora asked as she looked over her shoulders skeptically.
“Flowers,” Celia admitted, embarrassed.
“Oh.”
“I was just about to embroider a few more leaves, then it will look completely different!” She tried to justify herself and as if to prove it, she began to embroider the outlines of the leaves and injured herself again. “Ouch.” Slightly annoyed, she put her finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding.
“Why don’t you use a needle for embroidery?” Asked her maid, fetching a blunt needle from her apron.
Celia looked at her speechless for a moment. “Wait a minute. Why are you only telling me that now, when you’ve had the needle with you the whole time? I’ve been stabbing my finger for hours now!”
“You didn’t ask.”
“…”
“Do you want the needle now?”
Slightly offended, she took the needle from her maid’s hand and threaded the thread through.
It couldn’t be long before the Grand Duke would appear here again. Her father had been back from his business for half an hour and was now resting. Celia had considered telling him that they would have a guest for dinner today. But she was afraid of his reaction and decided not to. However, it somehow seemed too quiet to her. “Tell me, shouldn’t someone have told my father about the Grand Duke’s visit long ago?”
Her maid shook her head. “I took care of that.”
She looked uncertainly at Lora. “What does that mean you took care of it?”
“That means what it means.”
Celia had never really thought about it, but she had never seen Lora talk to any of the other employees. If she thought about it carefully, she herself has had almost no contact with the staff since Lora became her maid ten years ago.
She looked at Lora from top to bottom, up to the, as usual, emotionless face. Just how influential is this woman in this house?
“If you stare at me for so long, you can draw me right away,” Lora said and Celia averted her eyes. The suggestion to draw wasn’t that bad actually. The embroidered handkerchief wouldn’t get any better even if she kept on working on it.
“I think I’ll really switch to drawing, will you put an easel by the window for me?” Her room might be relatively small and shabby, but the view from the window was really pretty since she could look directly at the rose garden.
So when her maid had prepared everything, she took a pencil and looked at the garden which she wanted to draw. How beautiful the roses were, especially the pink ones had such a strong color. Like the Grand Duke’s eyes.
Just at the thought she had to sigh dreamily. They had shone like two pink diamonds and she had also noticed the small scar above his eyebrows. Maybe from war? lt gave him something daring, so she found it more attractive than annoying. The most important thing for her was for the rest of his beautiful face remained intact.
Even though she was still afraid of him, she couldn’t wait to see him again. Should he agree to an engagement, would they get closer physically? So far she had had no experience with men. The only ball she’d ever been to was her debutante ball. After that, Arla had prevented her from participating in such amusements. By chance she had heard her arguing with her father about it. She probably feared that she might steal all of her attention.
That could change with the Grand Duke. Then she would be able to socialize and dance with her fiancé. If she only thought of how he could put his strong arm around her waist and she could touch his muscles … oh hopefully he would let her live long enough for her to experience that. But first of all, this connection had to be established.
“And I thought you wanted to paint the garden,” she heard her maid say and she was torn from her thoughts.
“Hm?” Only now did she see what she had been sketching all along. On her sheet of paper was a rough sketch of the Grand Duke, upper body free, as she imagined it to be.
Immediately she turned the paper over and fanned herself some air. She was lousy at embroidery but she definitely could draw. Even she herself was blushing by her picture. “I think we should get ready for dinner. I leave the dress on, but I would like an updo this time. She couldn’t allow herself to appear before the Grand Duke again with such a messy hairstyle.
Lora grumbled as she complied. She could do updos, but was usually too lazy because they were very time-consuming. Hence the annoyed hum. But she couldn’t take that into consideration now. She also only left the room after she was sure that everything was in place.
Shortly before the dining room she met her father, who looked even more annoyed than usual. His business had probably not gone well. When he saw his daughter, his eyes narrowed. “Why did you dress up like this?”
Celia swallowed hard. Now she probably wouldn’t be able to put it off any longer. “Good evening Father, I am expecting another guest for this evening.”
The Count’s eyes turned icy. ” What kind of guest would someone like you expect?” Then his expression brightened briefly. “Are you perhaps saying you have finally written to the prince?”
“No. The invitation went to his cousin.”
Her father’s facial features derailed on the spot and he looked at her furiously. “You dared to write to Grand Duke Dumain without my permission? How dare you!” He raised his hand and Celia reflexively closed her eyes, but the blow didn’t come and so she tried to open her eyes again. Just to see a picture in front of her that she hadn’t expected.
The Grand Duke suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He must have managed to get to them without them noticing. Which is why he now held her father’s wrist. He looked at her father with an angelic smile, paired with an extremely threatening look in his eyes. “Good evening, Count Fleuret. Lady Fleuret”, he greeted her briefly, too. “I had completely forgotten to ask when dinner was going to take place, but it looks like I came at exactly the right time.”
Her father’s face reflected pain and also some fear. “Your Grace, what an honor. Please forgive me, but could you let go of my hand?”
Grand Duke Dumain cocked his head slightly. “Sure, as long as you assure me that you will not raise your hand to my fiancée again.”
“Your fiancée?” Exclaimed both Count Fleuret and his daughter, completely perplexed.
