Chapter 137

Chapter 137

It was morning, and the sunlight filtered through the living room, casting a warm glow on the bluish-silver gray wallpaper. The room seemed enveloped in a peaceful fog, except for the piles of cardboard boxes and scattered possessions that cluttered the floor.

“What is all this?” Deatrice said, looking tiredly at the parlor where there was no space left to step on.

“I guess you’re planning on sending me to be a debutante again?”

The dresses, shoes, and jewelry that lay scattered everywhere reminded her of when she first debuted in the social world.

Lucius, sitting on a sofa with a gorgeous dress on his lap, casually sipped his tea and laughed softly enough at her little joke. “Where would I send you? You’re already married to me.”

“Then what is all these?”

“Gifts,” he uttered as a matter of factly. “You don’t like it?”

It wasn’t bad per se, but it was too much. Deatrice felt displeased at his extravagance and said, without relaxing her frown, “You don’t have to buy this much.”

After reading the stubborn persistence in that tone of voice, Lucius eventually pulled Deatrice into his embrace with a relaxed attitude to appease her.

“My princess.” He said, kissing her on the cheek. “Being mindful of our finances is cute and all, but you don’t have to do that. Our situation isn’t that bad.”

“…are you doing this because my father’s marriage is near?”

Deatrice asked him that because she remembered that not too long ago, Lucius had even called her maid and asked if she was ready for the event. Maybe from Lucius’ point of view, he wouldn’t want her to appear shabby before the duke.

If that’s the case, she wanted to tell him that she understands and that she’ll take care of herself, but there’s no need to overdo it.

But Lucius asked her as if it were the first time he had ever heard of it. “Who? Who’s getting married?”

“Lucius.”

He chuckled at his name being called, indicating for him not to joke around. Then he patted her head adoringly.

“I’m not really interested in your father’s marriage. I just bought a few items to entertain you because I know you used to like these kinds of things.”

He led her directly to the mirror, reached for a ruby necklace, and glanced at her neck.

Because she was dressed modestly in pastels, the bold color of the gem wouldn’t go well with her outfit. But seeing him delighted over the fact that she would wear a jewel around her neck that resembled his eyes, Deatrice let it slide.

The rounded corners of his lips reminded her of the face he had on when he proposed by the lake. He had smiled just like that back when he gave her the ruby-red ring.

She forced herself to smile after him, but the thought of the ring suddenly made her chest feel heavy. After their engagement ended, she kept the ring for a while until she heard he was going to war.

Did he safely receive the ring I sent back? What did he think about when he saw it?

Deatrice was curious about the whereabouts of the ring, but she also knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to talk to him about it and risk ruining the tenuous balance in their relationship.

“Let’s try this one.”

In the end, she became Lucius’ little dress-up doll and was stuck in the parlor room for a long time that day trying on multiple clothing, shoes, and jewelry. He particularly liked it when Deatrice wore very colorful clothes with no makeup on, hair loose and unruly.

When she was forced to wear clothes with jewels and embroidery, she had no choice but to wear them, and the corners of Lucius’ lips rose playfully.

“Is it fun playing around with me?” Deatrice grumbled, but Lucius was already pulling her close, unable to resist the urge to wrap her in his arms and hold her tight. “What are you doing?” she asked, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice despite her annoyance.

“Only I get to see this side of you,” Lucius declared, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Rosalynn has seen me like this before,” Deatrice pointed out.

“Then tell her to pretend she hasn’t. I want you all to myself,” Lucius said, his gaze flicking over to Rosalynn with a hint of coldness that didn’t seem like a joke.

“So you want me to close my eyes and dress up for you?” Deatrice asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s what I’ve been saying all along, but you’ve been ignoring me,” Lucius replied with a smirk.

Deatrice rolled her eyes and covered Lucius’s eyes with her hand. “Don’t scare her,” she said, gesturing towards Rosalynn.

“When did I do anything so horrific?” Lucius asked, feigning innocence.

The bashful smile under her hand was a pleasant sight to see. Lucius wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the nape of her neck, wrinkling her puffy dress and feeling her warmth through the thick fabric.

She complained, “My clothes will get wrinkled.”

“I already bought it. It doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t really think I should attend my father’s wedding looking like the bride.” Deatrice reasoned, gesturing to the color and design of the dress she’s currently wearing.

But no matter what she said, he’ll manage to steer it somewhere else.

“You can just marry me again then,” he voiced out.

Deatrice met his eyes without a word and Lucius gazed back at hers. She wanted to convey a pitiful look and so she pouted. But Lucius understood differently and tilted his head to try and kiss her.

Because Rosalynn was present, Deatrice hurriedly backed away.

“Don’t do it!”

“…my princess hates so many things.” Lucius’ eyes remained fixated on Deatrice as she escaped towards Rosalynn’s side. As soon as his eyes met with the maid’s, his sweet and playful eyes quickly became cold.