Chapter 92.2
For the first time, those words of love escaped her lips, breaking free from the tight grip they had on her heart.
Claude was taken aback, unsure if he had heard her correctly. He gently tilted her chin towards him and asked, “Really?”
Canillia’s face turned a deep red, her gaze avoiding his as she felt embarrassed. Nervously, she nodded her head.
“Don’t ask me again. You heard me the first time,” she said firmly, but her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I thought you loved the children more than me,” Claude admitted.
“I do love the children, but my love for you is… different,” Canillia replied, finally mustering up the courage to look him in the eyes.
“How is it different?” Claude asked, his voice filled with curiosity.
As she embraced him, Canillia found herself at a loss for words. She wanted to express the depth of her feelings for him, but the words just wouldn’t come.
Sensing her hesitation, Claude leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her tenderly.
“Sleep here tonight,” whispered Claude, his voice a deep rumble that echoed through the room. Lia, taken aback by his words, tried to rise from the bed, but found herself powerless against his iron grip.
“Claude,” she whispered, a hint of fear and uncertainty lacing her voice.
“Sleep here,” he continued, his eyes never leaving her face. “My relatives are coming, and they are eager to meet the grand duchess who has captured my heart. So, don’t just study for the test, Lia. Get to know me, understand me.”
With a gentle touch, he took her hand, drawing her closer to him. Their skin brushed against each other, a spark igniting within Lia. Her eyes widened, and she felt her heart race as she looked into his deep, soulful gaze.
“How do you feel about me now?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.
“Warm,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
“And?” he urged.
“Soft,” she said, a blush rising to her cheeks.
He nodded, encouraging her to go on. She looked down at their joined hands, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket.
“I’m nervous, Your Highness,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.
***
The sun had barely risen over the horizon when the gardener at the palace began his work, meticulously tending to the lawn and the lush gardens. The day held significance, for it marked the first gathering of the royal family since the passing of the late Duke. The purpose of the gathering was to determine the eligibility of the next palace master.
Jasmine gazed around the elegantly restored mansion, taking in its grandeur, before giving orders for the car to be made ready. Canillia, ever at her side, approached and greeted her with the utmost respect.
“I hear that guests are arriving today,” she said. “Is it permissible for me to leave the palace?”
“Of course, Canillia,” Jasmine replied with a smile. “Just make sure to return in time for the gathering. I’ll inform the head housekeeper of your departure, and Edith will be joining me to receive our guests. We’ll have to delay tea time for a later hour.”
“Understood,” Canillia replied, bowing her head in acceptance.
As Lia settled into the car, a large box was carried in by a servant. Inside the box were a collection of fairy tale books, crafted by Lia herself. Though they were intended to be educational, Canillia saw them as nothing but enchanting stories, filled with the magic of numbers.
“The children will love these,” Jasmine remarked. “They now have a wonderful teacher.”
“I hope so,” Lia replied, a hint of doubt creeping into her voice. “What if I disgrace the teaching profession?”
“Nonsense,” Jasmine replied, her tone firm and confident. “There is little that can tarnish the honor of such a noble profession.”
With a final nod of agreement, Canillia took her leave, eager to carry out her mission. Meanwhile, Jasmine returned to the palace, where the halls were still abuzz with activity.
Her thoughts drifted to the secret garden, a greenhouse where even in the heart of winter, plants thrived. She envisioned her son’s future wedding reception, taking place amongst the verdant greenery. In her mind’s eye, she saw her son, a spitting image of her husband, walking hand in hand with his lovely wife.
Suddenly, Owen appeared beside her, breaking her daydream.
“Madam,” he said, bowing respectfully.
“I’ve heard that she is a member of the Vale family,” Jasmine said, not taking her eyes off the garden. “Is that correct?”
“Yes, she was raised as Canillia Vale,” Owen replied. “She was a senior at the Imperial Academy, and she even helped uncover an anarchist hideout. It appears she has been living as a man.”
“And what of her meeting with Claude?” Jasmine asked, arching a brow.
“That, I cannot say,” Owen admitted.
“Well, if you’re curious, you’ll have to find out for yourself,” Jasmine replied with a cryptic smile.
She understood Anastasia’s anger and betrayal at the least, but the fact that she hired a person to hurt Claude and Canillia was unforgivable.
She spent hours contemplating the recent events before making her way to the second floor of the palace. She pushed open the door to the study where the Duke had spent most of his days, but it was now barren and empty. There was no sign of Claude, who should have been working at the desk surrounded by towering stacks of documents.
Gently running her hand over the desk, Jasmine tried to hold on to the memories of her late husband. Suddenly, she spotted a letter peeking out from the bottom right drawer. The bold “C” written on the envelope caught her eye.
With a mixture of curiosity and caution, Jasmine slowly opened the heavy drawer. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed upon what was inside. Tilting her head, she wondered what secrets the letter might hold.
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