Chapter 8

In truth, he had never meant to sell the mansion on the Valaria coast.

But Julian possessed two of the paintings he had been desperately searching for—the final two that would complete the set. In the end, he had no choice but to hand the mansion over to Julian.

You’ve got a decent eye for art, I’ll give you that. But you’ll never have Rebecca.

Zeppelin deliberately wrapped an arm around Rebecca’s waist.

Julian stared hard at Zeppelin’s supple hand gripping her. A faint frown creased his brow.

“I’ll be taking my wife now.”

Zeppelin hurried Rebecca toward the center of the ballroom, a discreet gleam of triumph in his eyes.

Rebecca is mine. The likes of you have no right to covet her.

Thinking that, he found Rebecca all the more lovely today. He drew her tight against him and showered kisses on her shoulder and forehead. Rebecca barely managed to stifle her gag reflex, though to onlookers they were simply a tender couple.

Seeing the Earl of Devonshire and his wife, the crowd began to chatter with glee.

“My, how affectionate the earl is with his wife.”

“What good is that? She practically lives shut up at home.”

“Well of course—she’s the empire’s greatest beauty. I’d lock her up too so no one could see her.”

“I don’t know. I think the most beautiful is the second wife—Alicia, wasn’t it? I caught a glimpse last time, and she was dazzling.”

“Damn, the earl is blessed. By the way, didn’t the second wife attend? I wanted a look at her.”

“How could she show her face here? She’s a commoner, and ‘wife’ in name only—practically a concubine…”

The room, which had been buzzing, fell silent when they saw Julian striding toward the count and countess.

Noting that every gaze—especially the emperor’s—had turned to him, Julian’s mouth curved.

Zeppelin was tall, but Julian stood a head taller. Zeppelin glared up at him, displeasure on his face.

“Do you have more to say?”

“No. I’ve nothing to say to you, Count. My business is with this lady.”

Julian bent to meet Rebecca’s eyes and slowly held out his hand.

“Rebecca, would you honor me with a dance?”

He deliberately dropped “of Devonshire” and called her by her name alone, gently, as though they were already familiar. He acted as if he didn’t notice Zeppelin beside them, fists clenched.

The ballroom went quiet as if doused with water. Mouths hung open as people looked from Julian to Rebecca and back again.

Rebecca met Julian’s eyes over his outstretched hand and held her breath.

In her previous life, she had had no real connection with him. Even when they crossed paths, it had only been at a distance.

His black eyes—like looking into an abyss—scanned her with curious interest. The keen light in them contrasted with the dark shadows beneath, which spoke of crushing ennui and desperate urgency.

Rebecca’s gaze traced the dangerously sharp line of his jaw. Her heart hammered; she couldn’t calm it. She began to understand, at least a little, why so many young ladies followed him despite the filthy scandals.

He was dangerous. To have one’s mind go blank from just a glance.

If she wasn’t careful, she would be drawn in.

“Refuse him, Rebecca. He’s not worth your time.”

But the force of Zeppelin’s grip on her shoulder snapped her back to herself.

This was a chance that would never come again. She had to take the duke’s hand now.

Careful not to draw Zeppelin’s notice, Rebecca lifted her eyes to Emperor Jahidra. She sent him a brief, pleading look, then lowered her head.

Catching sight of the water‑colored blue of her eyes, Jahidra flinched.

Zeppelin doted on his wife but was terrifyingly possessive.

The emperor had tried to ignore it as a private domestic matter, but if Duke Johannes got involved, that was another story.

Jahidra calculated quickly. Zeppelin was staunchly pro‑imperial. If Julian had an interest in his wife, that could be a significant weakness. Besides, rescuing a beauty in distress was always enjoyable.

Jahidra laughed loudly.

“Earl of Devonshire! Clinging too tightly to your wife does not look good.”

“But, Your Majesty! This man is being impertinent—”

“I fail to see how. She’s already had the first dance with you, hasn’t she? And from what I hear, she’s never once danced with another man. Once should be acceptable. Grant permission.”

The spectators, following the situation with interest, murmured among themselves. Unpleasant rumors had been circulating about Rebecca’s infrequent appearances in society.

Zeppelin swallowed his anger. With the emperor speaking so plainly, refusal would be improper. He looked at the smiling Julian with a murderous glint.

“Very well. But only one dance.”

“No, no—I asked permission of the lady, not of you, Count.”

Rebecca pretended to defer to Zeppelin. When he reluctantly nodded, she slowly took Julian’s hand.

In contrast to Zeppelin’s soft hands, his were large and rough—but warm.

“It’s an honor, milady.”

Julian kissed the back of Rebecca’s hand and treated her as though she were an unmarried young lady.

Zeppelin glared at the two of them as if he might set the palace ablaze.

The second piece began. Others danced too, but their steps were a mess because they were too busy staring at Julian and Rebecca.

“All right, then—let’s hear it. What is this ‘deal’ of yours?”

Rebecca tried not to think about the hand around her waist. She had never touched a man like this other than Zeppelin; tension made her neck stiff.

“What I meant to say is…”

She glanced up at Julian without thinking and nearly screamed—the irises staring back at her had turned a brilliant gold. He watched her like a hunter eyeing intriguing prey, urging out her next words.

Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut, summoning memories of what she had suffered in the past to steady herself. Her wildly racing pulse slowed. She opened her eyes and spoke.

“I’m going to divorce him.”

“What…?”

“So please marry me.”

Rebecca’s voluminous dress flared and gathered with the sweet music. Every brush of lace set the densely sewn beads glittering so brightly that gasps rose around them.

Despite his massive frame, Julian moved lightly and guided her with practiced ease.

Countless eyes followed them as they swept across the floor.

With Zeppelin, Rebecca could sometimes look like his sister, perhaps because their features were similar.

But here—a black‑clad man like one risen from hell and a white‑clad woman like one descended from heaven—were so perfectly matched one couldn’t look away.

Not only the emperor but everyone present tracked their movements. If not for Zeppelin’s fury, it was a sight that made one wish they could dance together all day.

Unlike the calm rhythm of his steps, Julian’s eyes were alight with a peculiar excitement and curiosity. Rebecca didn’t avoid his persistent gaze; she lifted her eyes with bold poise.

“I know this isn’t a romantic proposal, Your Grace, but it won’t be a bad bargain for you.”

“And your reasons?”

“Soon the temple will press you to take a bride.”

“And where did you hear that?”

“The source has no bearing on our contract. I will be your bride. If you marry me, the thing you fear won’t happen. I swear I won’t lay a finger on you during our marriage. I will not demand love, and there will be no heir. In short, we will be husband and wife in name only.”

Does she think that even if she wanted to put her hands on me right now, she could?

Julian let out a short laugh as he looked down at Rebecca’s waist—no more than a handful.

“Is that all you want?”

Rebecca hesitated, then shook her head.

The dance reached its climax. Julian lifted her high. She was far lighter than he had expected; he raised her higher than he meant to and was briefly flustered. Cries of admiration went up around them.

Rebecca’s golden hair spilled over him, like a cascade of sunlight pouring down. Julian’s eyes widened.

Suspended in the air, Rebecca whispered to him, eyes blazing, “Give me the power to bring down the Devonshire house—the earl’s house. Then I will save you.”

Set back on the floor, she took his hand again and spun.

Julian narrowed his eyes, studying her complexion. Those steady eyes didn’t look like they were lying.

“And how am I supposed to believe that?”

“You’ll have to. You’re desperate, aren’t you? Don’t you want to free your little sister from the curse?”

Still holding his hand, Rebecca unwound herself until there was the length of two arms between them.

She even knows about Lily?

Julian looked at her, nonplussed. Her gaze remained straight and unwavering, fixed on him.

Save me?

He drew her back into his arms, and she yielded without resistance. He gripped her waist firmly, and her lithe body arched.

The dance would end soon; so would their chance to speak alone. Impatience pricked at him. He wanted just a little more time.

“I won’t ask for an answer now. When you’ve decided, send Leo to the count’s house. My room is on the east side of the second floor. I’ll place a yellow flower in the window.”

Julian stared at her in surprise. Rebecca straightened and let a soft smile curl her lips. At that piercingly beautiful smile, he faltered.

“I also know you can speak with Leo, the messenger of the gods. I’ll await your reply.”

“Rebecca!”

The moment the music ended, Zeppelin hurried over and snatched her by the wrist. His patience was nearly at an end; he no longer cared about saving face.

“Then, I’ll take my leave.”

With that clean farewell, Rebecca departed.

Julian stood staring blankly at the space she left behind.