Chapter 15

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 15

Chapter Title: Portrait of Olivia Blanchett

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Good heavens!

"June 16. Patek Delivery"

The wristwatch, the young lady's final gift, was scheduled to be delivered right on the duke's birthday.

Anne glanced at Olivia, who was sitting still while entrusting her hair to maid Marie. She hesitated over whether to mention this, but Mrs. Marie spoke first.

"I know someone if it's a designer who works fast."

Olivia cleared up the misunderstanding by talking with Mrs. Marie and decided to keep her around on the condition that she only attended when requested.

"Could I meet her?"

"Of course. I'll send for her at first light."

"But no matter how quick, tomorrow's Thursday, and the day after is the ball. Isn't it too tight?"

Anne asked out of concern.

"If it's her, it's possible."

Mrs. Marie replied with full confidence.

And the next day, the designer who had Mrs. Marie's absolute trust burst in like she was charging into enemy territory at the head of a brigade.

"Hello, Miss Blanchett. Nice to meet you."

A woman wearing a hat adorned with bright blue peacock feathers swaying jauntily greeted her.

Even as she spoke, her eyes scanned Olivia from head to toe in one swift motion. Her gaze dropped as far as Olivia's slender ankle bone before snapping back up to meet her eyes.

"Perfect."

The woman, who introduced herself as Madam Lauren, curved her brightly red-painted lips in a flashy smile.

"Well then, shall we start by taking it off?"

The sky, which had been overcast since morning, began to pour rain by afternoon.

A black four-wheeled carriage was making its way through the avenue of catalpa trees blooming with dark purple flowers, braving the downpour.

It was the carriage returning from Leiden Palace after a summons from the crown prince.

Morris, who had been pacing anxiously by the window, hurried downstairs.

On a day when he had to deliver such news, even the weather wasn't on his side.

Johann Leopold particularly hated rainy days, and on such days, he was always in a foul mood.

In other words, Morris was about to pour oil on a fire.

Letting out a long sigh, Morris spotted the carriage passing through the main gate and headed to the porch with the butler.

"Welcome back, Your Grace."

Johann, stepping down from the carriage, gave a curt nod and entered. Morris walked beside him as he crossed the central hall, gauging his mood. His footsteps radiated anger.

He didn't know what had been said in the audience with the crown prince, but it clearly hadn't been good.

Morris gauged a better moment to report. At least the shower had passed.

"Speak."

But for the sharp Johann, there was no such thing as a good moment—only now or later.

As the saying went, better to take the blow first. Morris summarized it in one concise line.

"Litton City Hall has denied permission."

The sound of boot heels echoing in the high-ceilinged hall came to an abrupt halt. Johann Leopold's already displeased face twisted further, exuding menace.

"The reason."

His low voice spread through the space along with the patter of rain.

"Well... the situation has gotten rather messy."

"Is the Lancelot family involved?"

"There was a meeting with Litton's mayor yesterday. I'll report the details in the study."

Edgar wouldn't sit idly by while a Leopold Hotel rose in the heart of Litton, just as Johann wouldn't have.

Johann lifted his head.

Irritation laced his slow gaze as it swept over the magnificent ceiling fresco, the massive chandelier hanging in the center, and the sparkling crystals scattering its light.

'I've told them you're handling the welcome for the Krantz princess. Don't keep the lady waiting, Johann.'

The memory of Christian's sneering face from that afternoon's audience in the crown prince's reception room doubled his annoyance.

'Johann! Help me! If my engagement with Agent falls through, I'll end up lying next to Father's coffin. We're brothers, Johann. Please help me!'

That bastard.

It had only been three years since the scandal with Olivia Blanchett broke and Christian had crawled on all fours, begging.

Back then, he'd needed the title, so he'd accepted the filthy proposal—but not now.

He couldn't marry off like a stud horse just because Christian was being a nuisance.

Indeed, the divorce had been too easy.

The gray sky visible through the terrace window flush against the ceiling evoked the desperate eyes of his wife. The pitiful, lowly woman who had always yearned only for him.

As he lowered his gaze, which had aimlessly wandered the meaningless expanse of Great Hill—the duke's residence he'd gained as one reward for playing along with the crown prince's farce—and stepped onto the central staircase carpeted in red,

Johann stopped once more.

"What is that?"

Morris followed Johann's chilling gaze up to the gallery stage where the portraits of the Leopold duke and duchess hung.

But now, two portraits of stately men with neatly combed bright golden hair—the symbol of nobility—gazed down at them with dignified eyes.

Johann's eyes narrowed as he looked at the portrait of the previous Edinburgh Duke—his father.

"That is..."

Just as the trailing butler opened his mouth, Diane approached briskly from the other side, her heels clicking cheerfully.

"You're back."

Her flushed face bloomed with a smile befitting the lady of the house.

More than a month had passed since the divorce.

Olivia Blanchett's portrait hanging boldly on the central staircase was wrong, no matter who looked at it.

No matter how peerlessly beautiful it was, there was no longer any reason for it to hang beside Johann Leopold.

"Hang this one instead of that painting."

Diane stood straight-backed and issued elegant instructions to the servants. She looked every bit the mistress of the duke's residence, yet no one objected.

Johann was a busy man with no time to concern himself with household matters, so Diane had taken charge of Great Hill's internal affairs. Nothing unusual about that.

The duchess had been incompetent, and later mentally unstable besides—so Diane was effectively the lady of the house.

Olivia knew nothing. She had entered the earl's residence at six and reached seventeen without any education.

Only after the Blanchett Earldom's fall had they hastily taught her for the marriage market—how much could that have stuck? Ignorant and clumsy.

Diane found her laughable.

Olivia occasionally had moments of clarity when she wasn't drugged or drunk, and then she'd try to fulfill her duties as duchess.

Whenever Olivia overstepped her station like that, Diane made sure she remembered her place. No one was better suited for the role than the Oscar siblings.

The people in this world who hated Olivia Blanchett the most—her half-siblings.

Dad cheating with Mom's friend. Mom shooting Dad dead right in front of them. Their mother would mutter it like a mantra.

'It's all that bitch's fault.'

It was only natural their twisted resentment turned toward Olivia.

The effect was certain. Like a field ravaged by a storm, after they left, Olivia—hair torn out, face scratched—would hole up in her room until her wounds healed, quiet as a mouse.

On those days, even when the Johann she longed for visited her bedroom, she stubbornly kept the door locked.

Poor thing.

Diane felt a thrill of pleasure watching the primly made-up Olivia, shy smile and all, being dragged out by the burly men. Like pulling a rotten tooth.

As she watched the previous Edinburgh Duke's portrait being hung, Diane recalled the debutante ball where she'd first met Johann.

She'd fallen for him at first sight, escorting Princess Catherine.

But since the lady was Rondo's princess, Diane—the daughter of mere barons—had given up. Yet for some grubby bastard child to become Leopold duchess...

If you could become it, then so can I, Olivia.

After admiring the satisfactorily hung painting for a moment, Diane headed to the kitchen with the maids in tow.

Johann, who had soon entered the palace, would be back, and it was dinnertime. She checked on the venison being prepared for him and gave instructions for the table settings.

She enjoyed this life turning at her command and saw it as her vital duty.

Even so, she always minded the other servants' gazes, cleverly toeing the line. She wasn't the duchess yet, after all.

That was when the bell rang, signaling the servants to line up. He had arrived.

"You're back."

Greeting Johann like this made Diane feel ecstatic, as if she were truly his wife.

She was the only woman in Great Hill not wearing a black maid uniform, so she stood out without effort—especially now, with servants lined up like folding screens.

Even so, Diane had dressed more boldly today. Her ample bosom swelled tautly from the tightly laced corset.

Johann's gaze was fixed on the previous duke's portrait from start to finish. A pity, but his cynical eyes only made him more attractive. It made her burn even more.

Diane clasped her hands neatly and admired his profile, awaiting his reaction.

"I asked why this is hanging here."

His low, sunken voice startled her.

"Miss Brooke replaced it."

The butler reported.

"Change it back."

"Understood."

"Is there... a special reason?"

Only then did Johann's gaze turn to Diane. She couldn't understand his cold, displeased eyes. Why insist on the portrait of his divorced ex-wife?

"Your birthday is soon, Your Grace. It won't look good to the banquet guests. Do you really have to?"

Knowing it was overstepping, Diane held her breath.

"Do I need to get permission from the servants one by one just to hang a single painting in my own house?"

It was a icy rebuke.