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Count Domenico simply handed over the bag of bread and left.
After his visit Eileen finally was able to set off for the laboratory.
Since telling the owner of the inn that she was a Duchess and pharmacologist was somewhat awkward, all necessary explanations were to be taken on by Michele.
When Michele and Cesare in military uniform entered inside, in the inn silence suddenly reigned.
All who a minute ago had noisily chatted literally froze.
Froze both those who ate and those who talked, and even the inn owner himself who was just counting change to a guest.
All gazes were directed at the military.
When someone's gaze tried to shift to Eileen, standing behind Cesare's back, Michele came forward.
He snapped his fingers, attracting total attention.
"Attention!
I see many have an unclean conscience, but you can relax.
Today we are not arresting anyone."
People slowly began to move again, but the former noisy atmosphere no longer returned.
Soldiers stood at the entrance, and no one dared go out, only shifting glances and squinting eyes toward the military.
Lately military service in the Empire had been surrounded by honor and respect.
And if the inn guests feared the soldiers, at fault for that was exclusively Eileen.
On the day when the approval of the Triumphal Arch became known, Cesare had ordered the inn to be surrounded by troops.
Then the laboratory was closed, and Eileen vanished without a trace.
Among the guests a rumor spread that the apothecary from the second floor had been arrested by soldiers, and now it was unknown if she was alive.
Therefore people, fearing troubles, themselves tried to stay away.
However, the inn owner, Pietro, although he looked clearly frightened, bravely approached.
"Forgive me, but may I ask something?"
"Of course," Michele answered, carelessly having approached the counter.
Pietro wiped sweaty hands on the apron covering his rounded stomach and politely asked: "Tell me, please, what happened to the apothecary from the second floor?"
"Ah, we just on this account have come.
Don't worry, with her everything is in order." Michele, having leaned with one hand on the counter, continued the conversation.
Pietro stood motionless, carefully listening.
Eileen was a bit nervous, but hoped that Michele himself would explain everything.
While all attention was chained to Michele, Eileen with Cesare quickly climbed to the second floor.
Only then some guests noticed Eileen, hiding behind Cesare's back, and rounded their eyes.
They shifted gazes from the newspaper *La Verità* in their hands to Eileen.
But she, having stared at Cesare's back, didn't notice these gazes.
On the second floor it was quiet.
Apparently, because it was still day, and lodgers hadn't returned.
Cesare took the key from his pocket and took off the huge lock from the laboratory door.
Eileen with joy entered her laboratory, which she hadn't seen for so long.
The laboratory, contrary to expectations, was clean.
She thought everything would be covered with dust, but instead everything was accurately tidied to unrecognizability.
Even the decorative poppies, deprived of narcotic substances, hadn't withered and felt fine.
Fresh petals clearly testified to the care.
Apparently, Cesare had bidden that someone look after the laboratory.
Only on one flower a few petals had fallen, and it looked not so effective.
This was a consequence of the fact that Cesare had once inaccurately touched it.
*‘But after all he who ordered to water the flowers—is also Cesare.’* Although his touch had damaged the flower, exactly his order had saved the plant.
Eileen hoped the poppy didn't hold a grudge against him.
She involuntarily patted the poppy pot a couple of times, and then looked around the laboratory.
Since she’d heard the good news from Michele, she’d already decided exactly what she wanted to take.
All research materials had vanished.
Probably, they’d been taken back during the Morpheus investigation.
The sight of empty shelves made her sigh sadly, but she didn't show it and examined the equipment.
*‘Maybe take first of all fragile and expensive equipment?’* Meditating over round-bottom flasks, Eileen suddenly turned to Cesare.
He stood, leaning against the wall, with crossed arms, and watched how she was fussing.
Their gazes met, and he spoke first.
"Continue working over Morpheus.
I will provide support, so don't worry about anything."
Then he added that research materials had already been taken to the Grand Duke's residence.
Though it was good news, Eileen cautiously asked: "And the execution?.."
Cesare answered with an arrogant but completely natural confidence: "Who dares to send Duchess Erzet to the guillotine?"
Eileen nearly rushed to him to kiss him.
She with difficulty restrained herself, preserving the dignity of a Duchess, but hide the joyful shining face she couldn't.
"Thank you.
Thank you huge!
I will certainly complete the work over Morpheus."
She folded hands in a prayerful gesture, promising to do all possible to create a great medicine.
Cesare, watching her serious oath, laughed and answered that he would wait.
In a high mood Eileen hummed, examining the laboratory.
Suddenly she wanted to do something for Cesare right now.
*‘Want to somehow thank him.’* Even if she couldn't do anything so significant as he, she at least slightly wanted to express her appreciation.
Racking her head, Eileen suddenly remembered the ointment for scars.
Once Cesare had cut his hand, saving her from kidnappers.
The wound should already have healed, and the ointment would help to avoid rubeola.
She scolded herself for having not remembered this earlier, and immediately rushed to seek the ointment.
Usually in the laboratory creative disorder reigned.
Eileen laid things out by her rules.
But now, when everything was clean, finding the needed turned out more difficult.
Having puffed for some time, she finally found the tube with ointment on a shelf.
"Cesare!" Eileen hastily approached him.
"Show your palm, please."
Cesare smirked and stretched out the hand in the leather glove.
"E-e-e...
Your real palm."
"Want me to take off the glove?" His ambiguous intonation made Eileen hesitate.
But since he’d said so, she nodded.
"Yes, take it off, please."
Instead of taking off the glove, Cesare teased her: "You just strive to take something off me."
"The glove.
You didn't mean clothes..." Eileen hastily clarified.
Cesare laughed, having lowered his eyes.
"All right."
He lowered his voice as if sharing a secret: "Only for you, Eileen."
His whisper caused a strange aching feeling.
Eileen involuntarily held her breath, watching how he took off the glove.
Her heart throbbed as if it wanted to jump out of the chest.
The shining black leather glove slowly slipped off, revealing the hand.
A male hand with clear tendons and knuckles.
Long fingers were fully freed from the glove.
Cesare held out the hand to Eileen.
She cautiously took it in her palms and slowly turned it over to examine.
From her lips a short exclamation broke.
"Ah..."
His palm was ideally smooth.
Not the slightest trace of a wound.
Of course, Cesare possessed an amazing ability to regenerate.
But even with his health such full absence of a scar seemed strange.
Not so much time had passed for traces to vanish completely.
*‘Maybe the other hand?
No, definitely this one...’* Although Eileen was puzzled, Cesare didn't manifest any reaction.
He only submissively held out the hand to her.
"Sh-show the other hand." Stammering, she asked to look at the second hand, just in case.
He obediently took off the second glove too.
This palm too was clean.
Holding in hands both his hands, Eileen finally became confused.
*‘What is it?’*
Something clearly was not so.
But she couldn't understand what exactly.
Vague suspicions clouded her mind.
The feeling of alienation she had experienced from the very beginning now flared with incredible force.
In that moment instinctive feeling seized her.
She understood that she must ask the question right now.
Unconsciously having opened her mouth, Eileen stared into his flawless red eyes and blurted out the first that came to head:
"Cesare.
The wedding ring from my diary...
From where did you know of it?"