Claudel tilted her head.
"You should be watching the opera."
"You're more entertaining."
As he spoke calmly, her expression grew even more puzzled.
"You think I'm entertaining?"
"Yes."
"Which part?"
"All of it."
On the opera stage, an actor was singing passionately.
*—What made you change, Karl?*
*—You really don't know? The one who shattered and hardened my heart was you, who betrayed me.*
*—Karl, oh please!*
*—With the spark of revenge igniting, I became a sword.*
The story was rapidly approaching its climax. However, Claudel—who he "knew better"—was more interesting than the predictable romantic drama whose entire plot was outlined in the performance catalog.
A feathered hat and silk ribbon complemented her shiny, lustrous red hair beautifully. Her golden eyes, filled with the dazzling light from the stage, sparkled more mysteriously than usual.
And Claudel was also more interested in Kaian than in the opera—her eyes often turned toward him while pretending not to look.
When the butler had said they would grow closer if they spent time together, Kaian hadn't thought it necessary. This was a marriage that had occurred on Valquiterre's damned orders—what did it matter whether he knew the woman better or not?
That's what he'd genuinely thought. But the reality was that his wife—whom he'd come to know—was vastly different from a woman whose name he barely remembered.
Claudel didn't particularly like when he asked her to model whatever he gave her, but Kaian kept observing her as if collecting new discoveries.
Wasn't it better to give himself pleasure than to be bored with the Duchess with whom he had to share a bed? Kaian was literally enjoying his honeymoon.
Adding to his delight as a newlywed was Claudel, dressed as an audience member and seeing the theater for the first time on her visit to the capital today.
"I suppose you came to see the opera because of me. You're always so busy."
Claudel sounded apologetic, as if implying the opera was boring.
"No, I think it's worthwhile to attend the opera."
Kaian was sincere. He was even considering building a small theater on the Rowan estate for dates with Claudel. He'd like to see other theater outing ensembles too.
However, feeling generous, there was no need to refuse her gratitude.
"But if you want to express thanks, I won't decline."
"Thanks?"
"Is there anything wrong with your husband who's busy but arrives punctually?"
"What should I do..."
"A kiss would be appropriate."
"Here?"
Seeing Claudel's eyes widen with a serious expression, Kaian nearly burst out laughing.
*Look at this.* He'd heard correctly—this girl was the most amusing.
No matter what the actors did on stage, nothing would make him this happy.
Claudel was very conscious of others' opinions and quite proper outside the bedroom. The only place outside the bedroom where he could steal his wife's lips was the lakeshore in his garden, which was strictly closed to visitors.
Unfortunately, they weren't even allowed to touch lips in the carriage, so they had to content themselves with touching foreheads or cheeks.
"There's Madame Marcel and Hannah, but..."
Claudel looked back and closed her mouth. The two women's eyes had been bright with anticipation when the performance began, but their seats were now empty.
"Madame Marcel and Hannah are gone. Then is it all right?"
"Kaian..."
Kaian embraced Claudel and cupped her cheek with his other hand. Claudel was holding something and waving it about—he glanced down and saw it was a fan.
Kaian laughed to himself. The fact that she was acting reluctant while preparing to spread her fan to cover them—didn't that mean she agreed to the kiss anyway?
Every time Claudel revealed such conflicting feelings, Kaian felt himself falling more deeply for her.
When she opened the fan in her small hand and raised it, Claudel blushed and playfully pushed his shoulder with the fan as if to keep him in check.
"Why are you doing this? Really."
"I'm only helping since you wanted to hide it."
"I told you not to do this in public."
"Once, you asked if I would think you were an impertinent woman if you said you wanted to kiss me outside."
"At that time, there was a parasol to cover us."
"Now you can simply cover us with the fan."
She had no time to argue. He was impatient, fearing that if he didn't capture her beautifully adorned lips immediately, it would be his heart—not Karl Hamlin's—that would be quenched by the blacksmith's hammer.
Hot breath passed between their lips. As the air filled with Claudel's fragrant scent tickled his moistened lips, Kaian felt regret.
*I didn't come to see any opera.*
The butler he'd believed always spoke correctly was wrong. He'd said that seeing his wife outside the bedroom would help improve their relationship, but even seeing Claudel outside the bedroom only made him want to quickly bring his wife back to the bedroom.
"Kaian."
"Shall we leave now?"
The lips that had been exhaling sweetly closed tightly.
"I don't think I like opera that much."
"No, I don't want to leave. This is my long-awaited outing to the capital, and I'll watch until the end."
"What?"
Kaian wrapped his hand around hers holding the fan and squeezed.
"Then just continue doing what you were doing."
Annoyed by his wife who wouldn't agree with him, he ended up going astray.
---
*—I cannot forgive you!*
The actor dramatically stepped to center stage and roughly ripped his shirt open left and right.
This was the opera's most popular scene—a moment that made women, regardless of social status, blush while admiring masculine chest and abdominal muscles.
However, when the audience was supposed to be screaming in response, there was an unusually subtle silence that made the actor glance at the crowd in confusion.
When the actor accidentally missed a beat, the orchestra—which had been playing urgently—stumbled and stopped momentarily.
It was strange. People had paid handsomely to attend the theater, but instead of focusing on the stage, they were all doing something else as if coordinated.
Everyone was turning their heads back and to the side, looking not at the stage but at the expensive box seats in the center.
To be exact, at the Duke and Duchess of Temnes seated there.
In fact, there wasn't a single person in the capital who wasn't interested in the marriage of the Marshal of Rowan, which had been concluded by order of the young King.
However, since the Rowan estate was far from the capital, very few people had actually seen the Duke and Duchess of Temnes at the informal wedding held at Castle Valmonde at the northern tip.
Some who'd attended the wedding from afar said, "That's typical of the Duke of Temnes. He didn't even look at the bride. The ceremony took less than thirty minutes."
Those who hadn't attended said, "Vermont and Temnes have been at each other's throats forever—of course there was bloodshed on the first night!" They'd clicked their tongues while contemplating the long-standing enmity.
However, a strange scene was unfolding inside the theater.
"It looks like they can't get enough of each other."
It had a completely different meaning than expected.
"Oh my, I never thought the Duke of Temnes would do something like that."
The Duke of Temnes, who steadfastly kissed the Duchess even after being swatted with a fan, was indeed a battlefield hero who didn't retreat even an inch.
Immersed in their own world, they had no idea everyone in the theater was watching them, to the point that the opera proceeded in disarray.
---
When the opera ended, lights returned to the theater. The atmosphere brightened, with gold-lacquered decorations and chandeliers twinkling here and there as if the heat from the performance had transformed into fragments of light.
"Kaian."
I called to him urgently.
"I think you need to clean up."
In the bright room, the red rouge smeared on his lips created a suggestive atmosphere.
"What?"
"You have rouge on your lips."
"All right."
Kaian leisurely took his time and leaned diagonally toward me.
"Wipe it off for me."
"Me?"
"Who else is there? There's no mirror."
When I didn't move quickly, Kaian's eyebrow twitched.
*How did this happen?*
My husband was genuinely enjoying teasing me.
*It's not that I don't like it.*
My chest felt fluttery somewhere. Every time Kaian touched me like this, the line he was drawing became blurred. Such behavior gave me faint hope.
"What are you waiting for? The honor of Temnes depends on that handkerchief."
He held out the handkerchief and urged me during my hesitation. I sighed softly, folded the handkerchief, and gently wiped the rouge from his lips.
Meanwhile, my heart pounded loudly as I gazed at Kaian with his eyes closed and face tilted toward me. The smudged traces around his mouth clearly reminded me of what he'd been doing throughout the darkened performance.
"All done."
My face felt hot. I almost wondered if my burning cheeks were redder than the handkerchief I'd used to wipe away the rouge stains.
"Duke, may I have a moment?"
Madame Cronach's voice sounded beyond the thick curtain.
"What is it?"
"New fabric arrived from abroad, and Madame Marcel was sent to the port."
I discovered the whereabouts of the two who'd disappeared midway. They'd been away viewing something as valuable as an opera.
Madame Cronach looked at me.
"Miss Hannah wanted to accompany her, so I permitted it. For today's capital visit..."
"Well done. Don't worry, I'll return with her."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Then Madame Cronach hesitated.
"May I help the Duchess with her appearance?"
My heart sank. She'd applied lovely makeup, but since my rouge had transferred to Kaian like that, there was no way I looked presentable.
I gave up glaring at Kaian, wondering if he'd simply been looking at me without telling me.
He just seemed pleased whenever I grew flustered when upset.
"Please do."
When I gave permission, Kaian stood first. The box Madame Cronach brought was neatly filled with cosmetic tools.
Though she was a competent salon owner, I was embarrassed that she'd expected something like this. Two people had kissed, but the embarrassment seemed to be mine alone.
"You seem to be on excellent terms with the Duke."
Madame Cronach spoke as if trying to lighten the awkward mood.
"Does it appear that way?"
"Yes. There was a time when he declared he'd go to war with Vermont. The Duke of Temnes is infatuated with the Duchess."
I laughed involuntarily at Madame Cronach's words.
"It's not him who's infatuated—it's me."
---