Chapter 33.1

The gentle splashing of rain droplets against the exquisitely embroidered tablecloth complemented the loud cello music that emanated from the record player.

Marilyn looked over the rain-covered garden with her legs crossed. She impatiently tapped her foot on the wooden floor while waiting. If her mother saw her right now, she’d have a long nagging session regarding the proper etiquette a lady should follow. She put her hot teacup down on the table and called onto an attendant.

“Who dressed Sir Canillian?” Marilyn finally asked.

“The maid that came with him,” the attendant quipped.

“What about you?”

“He felt uncomfortable being watched by a lot of people, so everyone left.”

“Really…?”

The attendants couldn’t help but notice Marilyn’s sudden drop in mood. They were visibly nervous as they exchanged knowing looks with one another.

Marilyn’s intuition tells her that something wasn’t right and recalled the events that just transpired moments ago. From the exact moment that Canillian Vale arrived and put on the dress, Marilyn felt her gut turn. She could tell something was definitely off. No matter how closely anyone looked, Canillian looked like a real woman. It was unsettling how he didn’t feel like a man at all while wearing that dress.

He had a womanly figure – with the right curves at the right places that only a woman could have. To top it off she had those big, beaming eyes that can enamour any man. His voice wasn’t deep either, as if p.u.b.erty had spared him from all physiological changes.

Marilyn harbored a great displeasure as she replayed the image of Canillian in her mind. I cannot believe I am getting jealous and insecure over a man, she thought to herself.

As she regained her calm and reflected over her seditious thoughts, she realized that it was actually rude for them to set up Duke Claude and Canillian Vale. Despite the truth behind Canillian’s birth being shrouded in mystery, he was still a child of the Marquis, after all. Moreover, Claude was the succeeding Duke of the widely-respected Ihar Family.

In retrospect, how did she ever think that allowing the two to meet would be a good idea? She must’ve been out of her mind at that time. Also, it was an irrefutable fact that Canillian is a man, no matter how beautiful and lady-like he appeared from the outside.

Marilyn focused her attention at the seat that Canillian occupied a while ago. She blinked mindlessly and inwardly scoffed at this seemingly ridiculous plan.

She never expected that a time would come that she’d feel inferior to a man. She never even felt a fraction of intimidation towards Rosie nor the princess who were considered the most beautiful ladies in the empire.

“Please contact the tailor and ask him to prepare a plain looking dress, as requested by Sir Canllian. And also, next time, don’t come out of the room until Sir Canillian has finished dressing up. Do you understand? You should do your best to take care of him since he is a very important guest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the attendant nodded in agreement.

Marilyn’s gaze fell upon the grandiose grandfather clock. She noted the time and realized that they should be at the library by now. Even though she direly wished for them to catch the criminal right now, she knew that was close to impossible and had to wait. She took a deep breath and consciously made an effort to put on a smile, as she tried to shove away her growing impatience to the side.

Men by nature are drawn towards beautiful things and creatures, however, he was an Ihar. The Master of North, is not known to be like most men. He was a free spirit who did as he pleased and explored whatever he wanted.

By the time Marilyn got up, the tea was long cold. The only good thing so far was the long walk in the gallery that was adorned with the rarest art collection. She felt relaxed, even for a short time, while admiring them.

As she reached the window at the end of the hall, overlooking the outside, she noted the carriage had arrived. Beside it stood the attendant from the Marquis House who had travelled a long distance to come there.

Was it Pepe? she wondered.

“You said one attendant alone helped Sir Canillian dress up?” Marilyn asked in greater detail.

“Yes,” one of the attendants promptly replied.

“She has good hands. I should compliment her next time,” Marilyn said in response.

Marilyn decided to head back after the carriage left the gate and was out of plain sight. She had been exceptionally busy these days, especially since the long monsoon season has arrived. She had so much to prepare as it was time to change everything. Out with the old, in with the new.

“Anna, I heard there’s a new dressing room. Bring the owner. We should prepare for the monsoon season,” Marilyn ordered, determined to get all the work done as soon as possible.

***

The salon’s door, which was grandiosely decorated with gold and velvet, gradually opened to welcome the visitor in.

The buzzing conversations, which initially filled the room, quickly died down as soon as Claude stepped inside. The police officer took off his hat in respect to the incoming guest, while the royal guards and the Duke’s private entourage of soldiers immediately stood up.

Claude didn’t waste any time and headed straight to the table in the middle of the room and spread out the map. The yellow light emanating from the chandelier hovered over Claude’s stoic face. His expression was cold and serious.

“Let’s begin,” he firmly announced.

Claude hastily removed his jacket and instinctively placed his calloused palms at the two corners of the table. Bryton, who was cautiously antic.i.p.ating the Duke’s actions, pointed to the bell tower on the map.

“This bell tower area is the criminals’ hideout. So, we placed soldiers every 10 meters.”

“Did the whistleblower not reveal the hideout?”

“He says the hideout changes every day. The entire Louvre is possibly their hideout.”

“You’re going to search the entire Louvre, which is known to be a maze?”

Claude’s tone was calm, but noticeably had a hint of disbelief and annoyance. Bryton nodded back to answer the question directed at him. He then took out a cigar, placed them in his mouth, and let out a thick puff of smoke.

“Sir Eddy Kirkham from the Academy will be helping. It turns out that it was Princ.i.p.al Eddy who made the map of Louvre. Later today, our men will make the move as soon as Sir Canillian reaches the hideout. Sir Eddy will be the one to send out the signal when we attack.”

A small and barely noticeable frown graced Claude’s sullen features as he listened to the plan. Bryton’s voice was filled with unfounded confidence as if his plan had already succeeded while in reality, his tactic was full of holes and weaker than any plan Claude has heard in his entire lifetime.

“Did you say Eddy Kirkham?”

“Yes, by now, he probably came into contact with Sir Canillian,” Bryton proudly answered.

“Ha!” At this, Claude bowed deeply, scoffed, and then rubbed his face with his hands. Everyone stopped at the Duke’s sudden outburst. There was absolutely dead silence.

Claude then brushed his hair roughly in his disappointment and then swiftly grabbed Bryton’s wrist which was about to light another cigar.

“General Bryton, I will say one thing. The moment Canillian Vale is hurt even a little, I will have you and your men hanged by your necks.” Claude’s voice was strangely calm but his eyes glowed with murderous intent.