Chapter 32 How to Deceive an Emperor
Time slipped by within the expanse of the Grand Salon. The tea had gone cold. After what felt like an eternity, Oscar finally broke away from her gaze, uncertain. The new revelations weighed upon him—perhaps from fear or uncertainty.
No. He shook his head.
He wished to choose to trust Lady Brynn. And so, he must also choose not to be afraid.
He lifted his head, taking a deep breath.
“Very well. So the Emperor sought to marry you to his third son, but now that you have, let us say… fled with another, he is unlikely to be pleased.”
“That is correct, yes.”
She released his hand, which he almost immediately regretted. She called to the servant standing at the doorway to bring a fresh, steaming teapot. Somehow, knowing that this very serious—one-on-one—conversation with the duchess was not yet over comforted the young lord. He cleared his throat.
“But what difference is there between a marriage of love and an arranged marriage?”
“Let us say that an arranged marriage can be broken more easily, whereas a marriage of love forcibly shattered would prove tragic.”
She straightened on the sofa, her hands folded upon her knees. Even after so many emotions, it was difficult not to notice her strength of character.
“The Emperor is not truly all-powerful,” she continued. “He requires the approval of his court. And of public opinion. Every good leader knows this—but the people, however servile and docile they may appear, are the first threat one must not awaken. He is not the most beloved emperor, and a scandal involving a tragic love such as those depicted in many works of fiction would certainly cast him in an unfavourable light. Likely not enough to dethrone him—but enough to create enemies, or to stir those already lurking in his shadow.”
A small, amused smirk crossed her lips; in her eyes, a predatory glint flashed briefly. The young lord raised an eyebrow but did not comment.
“So, we should appear utterly in love? Even before the people of Mulberry, or your servants?”
“I have complete trust in my servants, but… yes, it would be for the best, even if I believe we are doing quite well thus far.”
“You think so?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, unconvinced.
“It seemed credible to me, yes. But perhaps far greater efforts will be required,” she suggested, moving closer to him on the sofa. “We may need to appear more affectionate in public to maintain the illusion.”
She said this with an amused look, but Oscar felt heat rise to his cheeks. And though he lacked the strength to pull away, he turned his gaze aside, unable to meet her teasing stare.
“More… more affectionate? Meaning what, exactly?” he asked, adjusting his cufflinks just slightly.
She chuckled. “Nothing you are not comfortable doing, but… I believe holding hands will be more than sufficient. You already did so before Lord Voston. And you will easily be perceived as a discreet man, perhaps not overly demonstrative in public. What matters is that the illusion holds.” She breathed the final words into the hollow of his ear. “No one will require a full theatrical performance.”
Oscar felt her gaze burn into the back of his skull; he inclined his head.
“Very well,” he conceded. “Holding hands—or arms—in public. And we shall need to build a shared story, spend time together, appear… comfortable with one another and—”
She leaned against him, taking hold of his arm.
“Naturally… You are not rid of me just yet,” she joked with a laugh.
He swallowed, feeling her warmth against his own.
“Why trust me with such a mad plan?”
“You often ask why I trust you,” she remarked, her tone lightly mocking. She straightened at last, ceasing her teasing. Her warmth already left him wanting. “I did not trust you when you arrived. That is also why I did not tell you of the true stakes of this marriage. But after spending time with you, I can sense that you are a good man. And besides, you have earned the affection of the castle servants. That is a mark of quality.”
The young lord raised an eyebrow.
“The servants appreciate me?”
“Of course. They found you somewhat distant and intimidating at first, but you treated them only with kindness and respect. That was enough.”
Oscar did not know what to say. Nor did he know what to do with that information. It was, at the very least, the first time he had received such a compliment.
The servant entered to bring a fresh teapot of hot tea. Oscar glanced at the clock: barely 10:30 a.m.
“Shall we practise dancing today?” he asked, watching Lady Brynn pour the tea.
“Well, Madame Brown will not be returning until tomorrow, and after so many emotions, I would find it entirely reasonable to take a day of rest. We could take a walk, or…” Her gaze drifted beyond the window, where a brisk rain continued to fall. She sighed, shaking her head. “Autumn is decidedly not an ideal season for strolls. Very well—we shall have to content ourselves with the indoors.”
Oscar nodded, not difficult to please.
“What do you usually do in your free time?”
“I read a great deal. I also draw, at times.”
The young lord’s eyes lit up.
“You draw? I would not have thought so.”
“Yes! It is a hobby that comes from…”
She clasped her signet ring between her fingers for a moment.
“Yes, I draw,” the duchess concluded simply.
Sensing her hesitation, he chose not to press the matter… And yet, it intrigued him greatly.
“Would you allow me to see some of your drawings?”
She considered for a few seconds.
“Well, if it interests you, I see no objection, of course.”
Oscar smiled, genuinely intrigued.
“Thank you.”