Chapter 258
Chapter 258
“Lucius,” she called softly.
He responded with a quiet, “Yes?”
After a long hesitation, Deatrice finally asked, “Who are those people outside?”
“People outside?”
Lucius seemed genuinely puzzled, as if he had no idea what she was referring to.
“The guards. Why do I need them?”
Lucius’ voice turned a little evasive, his tone hinting at discomfort.
“Ah, those. It’s only two guards, is it really bothering you that much?”
“It’s not that it’s bothering me… It just startled me. I wondered if something had happened.”
“Hmm…”
Lucius noticed her cautious tone, realizing she was carefully choosing her words. He shifted uncomfortably, like a boy caught doing something wrong, trying to buy time before he finally admitted the truth.
“There’s really nothing going on.”
“Then why?” she pressed.
With a playful hint to his voice, though still somewhat hesitant, he finally said, “To be honest… you’re locked up.”
“Locked up?”
The last thing he should’ve expected was for her to take it lightly.
She stared at him in disbelief, and sensing her reaction, Lucius quickly tried to explain, his tone turning more urgent.
“I know how this sounds. But if you understand how I feel, you’ll get it.”
“So, you’re saying you’ve imprisoned me?”
Lucius winced at the word, finding it distasteful. He turned towards her more seriously, adopting a persuasive tone as he responded.
Lucius let out a small sigh of relief, his smile growing wider as Deatrice reluctantly agreed.
“Last night, you asked me to let you go, remember? And I told you I couldn’t. The conversation didn’t really come to an end. After watching you sleep in my arms, I couldn’t stop thinking. Positive thoughts, sure, but I kept picturing you running off again—like you did to Ponto. You slipped out of the Duke’s estate so easily, and I realized how simple it would be for you to leave this house as well. You’re a mistress here, so you could just ask the coachman to take you to any station and disappear.”
“Lucius,” Deatrice interrupted, her tone exasperated, as if his words were too absurd to entertain. Her voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he forced a smile as he turned to her.
“Anyway, I spent all night thinking about that. So, unless you’re planning to drive me crazy, just stay with me for a month.”
“Lucius.”
She called his name again, more sternly this time. “I understand how you feel, but this… This won’t help any of us.”
He laughed softly, almost defeated. “You sound like a proper teacher now. I suppose three months of being tutored has really rubbed off on you.”
“Don’t change the subject. You know this is ridiculous.”
“I’ve already compromised as much as I can.”
“By locking me up?” she asked incredulously.
“You’re free to go wherever you like. See whoever you want. So, technically, it’s not imprisonment.”
Deatrice fell silent, and sensing her hesitation, Lucius’ voice softened. “Just one month. After that, they’ll be gone. Honestly, I could’ve arranged it so you’d never even notice the guards. The fact that you can see them is proof that I’m not trying to deceive you.”
Correction—Lucius was far from clumsy. He was calculating and thorough. Even his insane reasoning was delivered with a frightening degree of logic.
“But…”
Deatrice’s head pounded. She knew she should tell him how wrong it was for a husband to keep his wife under surveillance, that this was a violation of her freedom. Yet as she looked at him, her resolve slowly weakened. She found herself thinking about how desperate he must have been to go to such lengths.
It was only for a month, after all. And she had made mistakes too.
Lucius, sensing her wavering, peppered her face and hands with gentle kisses, pleading like a child, “Please? Please, just for a month?”
In the end, Deatrice couldn’t hold out any longer. His tickling touch made her burst into laughter, and she finally pushed his hands away, signaling her surrender.
“Alright,” she said softly.
“Really?” Lucius’ face lit up with a triumphant smile, his earlier tension dissolving as he gazed down at her.
“But not for a month,” she added, a glint of defiance returning to her eyes. “Three weeks. That’s all.”
Reducing his request by a week was the last shred of control she clung to, a final assertion of her independence. Lucius, now straddling her, smiled down at her with undeniable charm, his earlier anxiety fading away.
“As you wish,” he said, and then, with renewed passion, showered her with kisses as if she had granted him the world.
Yet, even after three weeks passed, the guards assigned to watch over Deatrice never left her side. Three weeks turned into a month, and then two, and the promise of freedom remained unfulfilled.
Lucius had his reasons, of course.
Ethan Vander, the son of Filbert Vander, who had almost been dragged away and executed like a dog in front of people, had come to the territory in a rage upon hearing that Lucius was becoming a duke.
He invaded the territory with knights, vowing to kill Lucius himself, as if on a suicide mission. Naturally, Lucius’s knights annihilated them, but somehow, at the last moment, they failed to capture the ringleader, Ethan Vander.