My Vengeful Former Lover

Chapter 31

If that same scenario happened to the present Deatrice, she would have at least rebutted with something. Like the fact that she had indeed been staring, but it didn’t mean she automatically liked him. Neither was it an invitation for him to touch her out of nowhere.

However, the Deatrice at that time was young and had not much social experience. All she could do then was blush, which indirectly let him know that she was truly watching him.

She could hardly open her mouth as her anger dissipated into thin air. The pain she felt from her foot paled in comparison to the humiliation she felt from being caught.

“I’m… sorry. It’s just that… there was something a little different about you…”

“A little different?” Lucius laughed. It was because those words had only been used by men to hoodwink a woman into being their lover.

His sudden laughter made her blush even more.

“I… I would sometimes see you in deep thought, very much unlike your usual cheerful appearance.”

“And? What about it?”

“If you are offended…” She tried to get up. But he grabbed her hand and pressed her to prevent her from getting up.

“I am not offended. I’m just curious about how I look in your eyes. I have strong narcissistic tendencies, so I like to hear stories like this. So enlighten me, how did I look different?” He replied teasingly.

But the way his gaze focused on her revealed that he wouldn’t let the matter slide so simply, to which she noticed. Suppressing her rising shame, she seated herself and spoke.

“It’s not much… I just thought you looked a little lonely, and that you have bad thoughts…”

“Bad thoughts?”

He asked, intrigued. With that, Deatrice couldn’t take it anymore and stood a little unsteadily. She shrugged off his hand on her person.

“I need to go. My aunt is waiting for me.”

“I’ll help you.”

“No, I’m alright.”

“There is no point in refusing. I’m a person with bad thoughts who likes doing what he wants. So one way or another, I will accompany you even if you refuse.”

He gave her another mischievous smile, and Deatrice could barely let out a peep with how much she was blushing.

“D-don’t make fun of me.”

“You teased me first.”

“Just because you have bad thoughts, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. I have it too—bad thoughts.”

“What kind of bad thoughts?”

Lucius asked lightly, but it was evident from her averting gaze that she wouldn’t answer. But he was pleasantly surprised when, after a long silence, she answered softly.

“I hope that one day, all the people who talk about my mother’s death will be gone.”

He had imagined it would be something like that, but Lucius was more concerned about how tired her voice sounded when she said it. Like a bird whose wings were drenched in viscous liquid, unable to move even if it meant saving its life.

That was how she appeared when he first saw her at the duchess’ funeral—standing near her mother’s grave, supported by a maid in the pouring rain. Her face had looked so hollow and constricted, as if she was still imprisoned, with chains that tethered her behind bars…

Lucius lowered his body in order to provide better support for her as she walked when all of a sudden, he had this wonderful thought. He wanted to help break those shackles that bound her from her freedom and see those beautiful wings soar into the sky…

Of course, at the time, he didn’t even think too hard on that presupposed notion of gallantry. He just thought he wanted to help, and then he put his thoughts into actions.

Lucius began talking to her, until the frequency of their chats increased in number as they would speak to each other often. In every conversation, he would try his best to make her smile and give her the support that she needed.

Eventually, he received a position as her lover, as well as earning a funny nickname no one had ever thought to call him before…

“You must be crazy.”

His attendant’s voice disconnected him from his previous train of thoughts.

Tom had appeared inside his room, holding the hem of the coat he had thrown earlier.

As soon as he saw the man, Lucius turned around, already aware that the nagging would begin soon.

Unfortunately, Tom positioned himself in front of where Lucius could see him, waving the disheveled clothes as he started speaking with fervor.

“You could’ve just called a priest instead. What’s with calling all four doctors?”

“She’s sick.”

A disdainful expression crossed his face, “Is she suffering from some incurable disease that she even needs the attention of all four great doctors?”

Lucius had an incredibly bored expression on his face.

“She said she won’t see the doctor, so I called four of them out of spite.” he murmured as he leaned back into his chair.

Tom narrowed his eyes, looked at his master, and then recounted some events based on what he knew.

“I heard a little bit about your wedding while I was here.”

As if uninterested, Lucius immersed himself in something else entirely, not even dignifying the attendant’s word with an answer.

But Tom knew he was listening anyway.

“I heard you held your wedding in the duke’s greenhouse? People even said it was so beautiful…” his voice trailed off as he stared at his master intently. “Hopefully, the reason why I’m running around all drenched in sweat with our garden restoration, isn’t because of her, right?”

“…”

“Don’t tell me you want to create a garden similar to the duke’s greenhouse for the marquess to adapt better in this place?”

“…it’s not like that.”

But it was true that he was reminded of Deatrice when he gave such an order. He didn’t know if what prompted him back then was his sense of responsibility as her soon-to-be husband.

Or… if it was his lingering feelings for Deatrice.

Tom’s eyes widened even further, noticing the hesitation on his master’s response.