Chapter 15 – The Duke’s Mistress

“What era does this village live in, anyway? There aren’t even cars, so I had to take a little carriage from the train station all the way here. I can’t understand why you chose such a place for your summer villa.”

Eleonore complained about the unbearable heat and cramped space. The Duke took her wool polonaise coat and hung it on the drawing room chair. The coat was adorned with classic corsage decorations, which had recently come back into fashion in Laurent’s social circles.

“You didn’t have to go through the trouble of coming all the way here.”

Eleonore avoided his gaze, as if she knew he saw right through her intentions, and answered softly.

“I know. But I had no choice. Leroy wanted to see his brother.”

Robert sneered. A sibling who suddenly appeared at his age.

“My mother never gave birth to a sibling for me.”

“But your father did get me pregnant, didn’t he?”

Emphasizing their half-blood relation, he fell silent. The existence of a half-brother, born from his father’s young mistress, seemed deeply insulting. Eleonore didn’t care and looked around, realizing nobody was bringing a drink for the guest no matter how long she waited. A house untouched by a hostess’s hand was always like this. She’d felt it from the moment she entered—there were no guards, no attendants, not even a kitchen maid. Why come to such an inconvenient countryside for vacation?

“I’m joking. What I meant is, that kid caught a cold and couldn’t come with me. Did you know there’s a cold epidemic in Laurent again this summer? It’s probably because of the sewage system. Newly appointed ministers never solve things properly. Civil servants, really.”

She winked as if sharing a great secret. Madame Eleonore, the late Duke of Guienne’s secret mistress, was an opera singer who, at a young age, gave birth to Robert’s half-brother.

“At least, I probably know more about civil servants than you do. They always come backstage at the theater when they come to see performances.”

At that, Eleonore watched the Duke’s reaction. The man’s face showed boredom as he listened silently. Why was he like this? She’d expected him to be more relaxed on vacation than in Laurent, but his reaction was not as expected. Eleonore, growing anxious, drooped her shoulders pathetically.

“Don’t be so cold. I’m a pitiable woman, you know. I gave birth to your father’s son at just twenty. I spent a whole year hiding, wasting time, just to keep my swelling belly secret. Men like you don’t know what kind of scandal a young actress faces when she suddenly disappears.”

“So what do you want this time?”

Robert was already used to this woman’s ways, having been his father’s mistress. The young opera singer always emphasized her tragic fate whenever she needed something.

“Do you have to be so harsh? We could talk about something else. For example, who was that girl behind you? She didn’t look even eighteen…”

She sparkled her eyes and trailed off, as if to stop the Duke from acting tired.

“Just say what you want, Eleonore.”

“I’m really curious. Are you seriously thinking of sponsoring someone? You know, men who get passionate about finding talented young girls to support.”

Eleonore shrugged as if making excuses. She’d seen a strange space through the open window as she entered—an atelier, it seemed. Her eyes narrowed. She’d also seen paints in the basket of the girl who’d been with him.

“Don’t compare me to the vile men who lurk backstage.”

The Duke didn’t hide his displeasure. Eleonore’s gaze grew more sly.

“Fine. I knew it. I know you actually have no interest in art. You just pretend for the sake of gathering celebrities at your hotel. All businessmen like you are the same.”

She couldn’t hide her satisfaction. Eleonore knew she was no genius. She knew what critics said about her: lack of effort, they said. But there are things that never succeed no matter how hard you try. The only thing she was born with was a young and beautiful face. Before her beauty faded, she seduced the elderly Duke of Guienne and became his mistress—but he died far too soon.

“Don’t be angry with me. If I say something odd, just blame it on the heat and be generous. I’ve gotten much weaker since having the child.”

Eleonore habitually watched the Duke’s mood. Yes, this wasn’t so bad. She had an illegitimate child named in the late Duke’s will, and thanks to that, she could rely on the young Duke of Guienne as her backer. And soon, she might get support in a different way. She was still young and beautiful, and men were drawn to her.

“If you have business, I told you to write a letter instead of coming in person.”

Wealth and power, lineage and reputation—the man who monopolized the values of both the praised old world and the admired new era was even young and handsome. The veins on his large hand, resting on the table, stirred Eleonore’s desire—not just for comfort, but as a woman. She had wanted a man like this from the beginning, not the old Duke of Guienne who constantly questioned her virtue. She sighed dramatically.

“I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to disobey the patron who sends me living expenses, but I had an urgent request. So I went to your apartment, but you weren’t there. I found this place by reading the address on a letter in your mailbox.”

Robert’s face twisted in irritation upon hearing that she’d invaded his apartment in Laurent.

“Oh, please don’t fire the poor guard. He couldn’t help it. If that kind man gets fired for opening the door for me, I’ll feel so sorry. Please, I’m asking.”

Eleonore lowered herself, adopting a pitiable posture anyone would sympathize with. It was similar to the role she played as the heroine in the opera that first caught the old Duke’s eye.

“All right.”

The Duke replied generously. But he would send a telegram to Laurent and have the apartment guard fired—tomorrow, or even tonight. Eleonore was sure of it. Too bad; he was naive but looked strong. That poor guard’s only crime was believing the rumor widely spread in Laurent—that the famous opera singer, Madame Eleonore, was the current Duke of Guienne’s beloved lover.

“You know the trashy tabloid rumors about you and me. He probably believed them were true. Because you never bother to explain…”

“Gossip is just gossip. I don’t waste time clarifying every rumor, Eleonore.”

The Duke laughed at her sly remark. His laugh was low and gentle, and the dimples spreading on both cheeks were aristocratic. He would never throw himself into a tabloid interview.

There are things in the world you can never acquire through effort. Her talent was like that, but so were noble titles and bloodlines—the products of the old era. Even the most radical republicans secretly longed for them.

The rookie guard had already vanished from her mind. She was captivated by hearing her name from the lips of an attractive man.

“If you have business, don’t beat around the bush. Eleonore. That way you can catch the train before sunset.”

The Duke kindly advised her—a warning not to stir up more rumors. Eleonore welcomed it; there was no point in lingering and irritating him further.

“Fine. Give me a place at the exhibition Princess Deborah is hosting at your hotel.”

The annual salon at Hotel d’Ecran was royal-sponsored. This year, it would mark Princess Deborah’s official debut in society at eighteen.

Though not officially engaged yet, the Duke of Guienne and Princess Deborah were publicly considered future spouses. If Eleonore, rumored to be the Duke’s lover, attended the event for the future Duchess, it would ruin Princess Deborah’s reputation. That was exactly what Eleonore wanted. If the Duke invited her to the party, everyone would think he was captivated by her, and her fame would grow.

“Wouldn’t it be better for you if I were the one entangled with you? At least then no one would suspect anything. Would anyone really think one woman would cling to both the rich and the poor at the same time?”

The Duke never revealed his true feelings to her. Still, Eleonore knew he didn’t want the existence of his illegitimate sibling to be made public.

“The painting you hid in your hotel room…”

Eleonore hesitated, referencing the rumor that the painting was her portrait. The Duke’s expression chilled. She had crossed a line. It was a silent warning. Eleonore, her pride wounded, bit her lip but acted as if nothing was wrong.

“All right. It was a joke. Anyway, I’ve made my request, so I’ll leave now, as you wish. Besides, Leroy is sick, so I can’t leave him with others for long.”

She stood, leaving a bit of leeway, but he didn’t see her off. She hadn’t expected it anyway. Eleonore picked up her polonaise coat with corsage decorations and walked through the garden. She winked at the coachman standing stupidly at the gate, making him blush. The carriage carrying Madame Eleonore, the top opera actress, left Hawthorn Mansion to the sound of the coachman’s whip.