Chapter 37 – A Marriage That Will Never Break

Robert, who had been about to offer a suitable greeting and leave, paused at an unexpected story he heard in their conversation.

“Was that all she received from the money for selling her very first painting?”

“Since she didn’t win a prize in the contest, and the child was not a famous painter either. It was surprising enough that someone bought it at all, Mr. Robert.”

Elodie kindly explained it to the innocent young man who, unlike his appearance, seemed not to know much about the ways of the world. At the time, the Vinoche family had thought that for a child’s painting, that amount was more than enough.

“She didn’t receive a high price, but even so, you’ve no idea how happy Sasha was at the news that someone had liked her painting enough to buy it with money.”

“Do you happen to remember exactly how much she received for the painting?”

Elodie searched her memory and told him the amount they had received for the painting long ago. It was not exact, since it had been so long, but she remembered it being roughly equal to about three months’ living expenses. Mr. Robert, who normally showed no particular interest in such stories, was listening with unexpected care.

* * *

Raoul Dawson, the Duke of Guienne’s personal secretary and capable lawyer, heard this morning that the train schedule had been moved up and that his employer had already arrived in the hotel lobby, and came running out in a rush. The Duke was already dressed in perfect order. After removing his coat and handing it over, the man headed without much comment to the salon where the members of the Chevalier Club were gathered.

Inside the salon, the mood was heated with anticipation for a duel to be held after a long time. Viscount Langdon, who had challenged Baron Vichy to a duel, had requested the Duke of Guienne, owner of Hotel d’Ecran, to serve as a witness to the duel. This was because the ballerina courted by the two young noblemen involved in the duel was staying in a room upstairs. They had agreed to hold the duel at the fountain in front of the hotel, visible from the window of her room. Only the one who survived would win her love!

Robert had to return from Manolie to Laurent in order to witness this romantic, useless, barbaric duel that the ballerina herself, the actual subject of it all, did not even want.

“Oh, Robert! The master of this little royal palace and the guardian of Brissen art has finally arrived.”

Mark, jumping to his feet, welcomed him with arms spread in an exaggerated pose. Catching the unpleasant smell of alcohol, Robert frowned. Who had poured that bastard a drink? In my hotel, no less?

Christopher, sitting beside Mark and trying to restrain him, gave a resigned shrug. The man insisted on pouring it down his own throat, so what was he supposed to do, tie him to the chair by force?

“Where is Viscount Langdon?”

Robert looked around the salon, but the reckless applicant for the duel, who ought to have arrived long ago, was nowhere to be seen.

“No idea. Baron Vichy hasn’t arrived yet either. There’s still a little time left, so we’ll have to wait.”

Instead of the men concerned, only the other gentlemen of the Chevalier Club had gathered, laughing and waiting in eager expectation of seeing blood. Taking advantage of the noise, Christopher slipped closer to Robert and whispered a warning in his ear.

“More importantly, be careful, because Mark is going to pick a fight with you. He’s furious and itching for it.”

Mark, who had been watching in displeasure the whole time, came swaggering over the moment those words fell and gave Robert’s shoulder a shove.

“I heard Madame Eleonore went all the way to where you were. Her Highness the Princess would be grieved if she heard that!”

Raoul, who had followed behind carrying the coat, watched and fidgeted anxiously. Mark, one of the members of the Chevalier Club, was royalist to the bone and also one of Princess Deborah’s ardent followers.

“The soprano at the Corbisier Theater is an attractive woman. I swear there isn’t a single man here who would blame you for enjoying yourself with her in moderation.”

Robert openly turned his head away from Mark, whose cheek muscles twitched in complaint. Every time Mark exhaled, the smell of alcohol from him was unpleasant.

“But if a man is ruled by desire and betrays his duty, then he is a beast. Of course, there is no chance that our noble Duke would do such a thing.”

“I hadn’t realized marrying the Princess was considered such a grand duty.”

At Robert’s indifferent attitude, the muscles in Mark’s face twitched as if he himself had been insulted.

“You can’t call it merely marriage. We have a duty to preserve our honorable inheritance from those vulgar tradesmen outside who care about nothing but money. And Princess Deborah is the most honorable inheritance passed down to us from our forebears, and the very essence of the refinement we have preserved for so long.”

Mark especially emphasized the words vulgar tradesmen as he glared at Robert. Ah. A young royalist who wanted to hand over the Princess he revered to a vulgar tradesman. Robert raised a brow.

“If you worship the Princess so much, why not propose to her yourself. For someone who pushes his duty onto others, you certainly talk big.”

“You madman! How dare you say something like that?”

At last Mark could bear it no more and lunged at Robert. With his collar seized, Robert looked down at Mark, who was showing more hostility than necessary, and said generously,

“Mark, if you think the Princess’s honor has been stained because of me, then feel free to throw your glove at me. I would be willing to answer an honorable duel at any time.”

Having said that, Robert shook Mark off in one motion, as though brushing off an insect. Mark, who nearly fell and only just managed to catch his balance, worked his dry lips that reeked of alcohol. By now all eyes in the salon were on them.

The gentlemen of the club watched with relish. Would Mark truly challenge the Duke of Guienne to a duel? And if so, what would the weapon be? Pistols? Or swords? Though whichever it was, he would have no chance of beating the young Duke, a former officer.

“If you don’t have the courage for that, it would be better not to speak empty words at all.”

Dodging slightly aside to avoid Mark, who lunged again blindly in wounded pride, Robert ignored him, sat in a chair, and straightened his disordered tie. Unable to calm his anger, Mark was dragged away by friends who had been watching the situation.

Their excitement cooled, the gentlemen turned their attention back to the day’s main event, the duel between Viscount Langdon and Baron Vichy. Money was thrown down across the table, and full-fledged betting began. Which of the two would seize victory and claim the ballerina?

But even long after the appointed time, neither Viscount Langdon nor Baron Vichy appeared. After growing tired of waiting, they sent a messenger, but the two declared separately that they would not attend, each for different reasons. The duel ended in anticlimax. The onlookers, who had gathered hoping for a tragic catastrophe, cursed the Viscount and the Baron for cowardly fleeing.

The Duke of Guienne, who had attended as witness, left not long after the appointed time had passed. The remaining gentlemen of the club scattered in boredom, playing cards or smoking until the evening dinner began. It was a dull afternoon with no amusement left.

* * *

Christopher hurried after Robert, who was rapidly leaving the lobby, caught up with him, and stopped him. Robert turned to him, checked the watch on his wrist once, and said,

“If you have something to say, say it quickly. I have an appointment with the director of the Royal Academy of Arts after this, so I need to go.”

“You’re not really thinking of not marrying the Princess, are you?”

“As if.”

Robert dismissed it shortly. His face looked as if asking what kind of nonsense that was. Even so, Christopher could not fully relax. If Robert really was certain about marrying the Princess, then why had he bothered responding to Mark’s provocation? He could have simply ignored it as usual. It was not as though he had been unaware of the hostility Mark bore toward him.

“The royal family chose you, the Duke of Guienne, as the knight who will protect them. You’re on trial right now.”

Robert stared at Christopher expressionlessly. His manner openly suggested that he could not understand why such talk was being brought up now. Swallowing a sigh, Christopher pressed a hand to his forehead and said with some force,

“If you don’t marry the Princess, you’ll be turning all the royalist nobles into your enemies. This marriage may not gain you very much, but if you break the promise now, there is definitely something to lose.”

“Thank you for your concern, but it’s not a matter you need to involve yourself in.”

Checking his watch once more, Robert dismissed it briefly.

“And what do you plan to do about the railway project you agreed to carry out jointly with the royal family? Queen Anaïs promised to transfer your share to you after the marriage. If it were only the hotel business, that would be one thing, but not the railway. Our family’s capital is invested in that as well. I think I have the right to advise you as an investor.”

Unable to hide his unease, Christopher stopped him once more. The very reason he had been made this anxious was Robert himself. The recent Robert was not his usual self. Breaking his promise to come to Metz and rushing off to Manolie. Responding to a provocation he would normally have ignored.

“Think carefully, Robert. Is that woman really worth giving up all of that?”

“Of course not. What are you talking about?”

Robert looked at Christopher as though he were the strange one for speaking such absurd nonsense. As if irritated that pointless conversation had delayed him, he narrowed his brow. On the shoulders of the detached man rested an unshakable certainty.

“I never said I would break this marriage. There’s no reason to. Everything will proceed as planned.”

Robert patted Christopher on the shoulder a couple of times, then turned away. At the hotel entrance, the automobile that had already arrived was waiting for him. The black car carrying Laurent’s most distinguished gentleman started off smoothly and crossed Sainte-Marie Street. Toward the fine restaurant deep in Etienne Forest, where his appointment with the director of the Royal Academy of Arts awaited.