Chapter 89: Chapter 49.1

Lia tried her best not to look surprised. Here was Claude looking splendid, even breathtaking!

His uniform collar bore the Duke’s hand-embroidered family crest. His hair was brushed back neatly, and his strong, handsome face shone.

As shy as she was, Lia could not take her eyes off him. He gently lowered himself so very close to her.

“Canillian,” he whispered, “are you still sleepy?”

His sweet, close words made her temporarily forget herself. Suddenly coming back to her senses, she straightened up.

“Why are you here? What about the engagement?”

“I saw you on my way to the Palace. What about you, being here instead of the engagement party?”

“Ah, I wasn’t feeling well,“ she lied, coughing a few times for effect. She then turned the first page of the new book, pretending to read, but thinking only of Claude.

Too obvious! He smirked and tried to hide his ensuing laughter, but even his shoulders shook.

“Canillian,” he said, composing himself, “if you’re sick you should be going to a doctor, not a library.”

Although Lia was embarrassed, she felt compelled to maintain the fiction—even though it made her two-faced. Come to think of it, she has been two-faced a lot recently.

She had met many people since she was admitted to the Academy, and her lying increased exponentially. She was becoming very good at it. Lia’s face became stern as she realized this truth.

“You’re really sick?” Claude asked in such a kind voice, that Lia looked up at him, gulped, and then nodded.

“Not feeling too well,” she confirmed.

“Let’s go to the hospital.”

“I’m not that sick.”

“Then come with me. To the Palace.”

“Absolutely not.” She went back to her book and turned page after page.

If she were to run into the Marchioness…

Lia could understand why the Marchioness had come so early in the morning asking for that favor. And hadn’t Lia already agreed to its terms? But if she were to break her pledge and attend the engagement party, then she would be defying the Marchioness.

Claude stared at her and said, “Then, I also don’t have a reason to go.”

He picked up a pillow and headed toward the sofa.

“You shouldn’t be absent, Claude. My brother will miss you.”

Claude, who didn’t seem to mind if his uniform got rumpled, curled up on the other end of the sofa.

“There are so many in attendance that no one would even notice.”

“No matter how many there are, your absence would be noticeable,” Lia countered.

He lifted his head and looked at her intently. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up.

“My father is hurt. He is resting at the Palace. He has been weakened by attacks and poisoning. No one knows when he will recover.”

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Lia had heard the rumors of assassination attempts on the Duke. The newspapers practically competed to cover stories about Duke Ihar, his family’s territory, and their fortune. All that someday would be Claude’s.

“You must be worried,” said Lia softly.

“I am. I respect and love my father.”

“He will recover. He’s a strong person.”

“Yes. Stronger than anyone I know.”

She felt unfamiliar with him, a man who openly says he loves his father. She bit her lip and Claude noticed.

“So,” Claude began slowly, “I thought about it. The first thing I would do if I were Duke.”

His gaze went from her face, to her hand, to a bookshelf, and to the chandelier on the ceiling. Once his eyes left her, she breathed in relief.

“First, I am going to be my own person. I will surround myself with people I trust, and expand my territory. That is why I am at the Academy right now.”

She remembered his suggestion from some time ago. He had said that for a second son of a noble family—a son who cannot succeed the title—there wouldn’t be a better position than that of Steward for the Duke’s family.

Lia stared at Claude without answering. Is this what he is referring to now?

“Are you going to reject my offer again, Canillian?”

She was right.

Lia stood up to put the book back on the shelf. Then Claude quickly stood up and followed her.

“Your answer?”

“I don’t fit with the Duke’s family. And as I have already told you, I want to do something different.”

“Like what?”

“I want to become a teacher. To teach children.”

“The Duke’s family has children that need teaching,” he offered.

He was referring to the very children she had asked him to take care of. Unable to hide her smile, Lia nodded. “You seem like a good person,” she said walking away.

He followed her. “A good person?”

“Yes, a good person.”

Lia navigated her way through the book stacks. She could hear the distant sound of pages turning and the sound of Claude’s trailing footsteps. He followed her as if pulled by an invisible string.

“And…?”

Lia lifted an unpublished manuscript from a bottom shelf. The vintage cover bore a familiar symbol—that of Lythia Milton. Lia sat down, regarding the manuscript as one would a treasure.

Claude abruptly lowered himself as a familiar voice rang out.

“I understand young Duke Claude del Ihar is here. Find him.”

It was Marilyn.