Chapter 5 – Issen (Part 20)

There is a courtesy that is invariably required of a guest invited to a noble’s dinner. To fulfill it, Bryant made his usual effort. Continuing the conversation in the smoking room, he smoked half a cigarette and finished a glass of whiskey before heading to the drawing room.

The woman, who had been drinking tea alone with the elderly butler standing by, greeted them. After sitting beside her and sipping a few sips of tea while exchanging a few words, the Duke took his leave. Bryant couldn’t remember all the trivial words spoken during that time, except for the Duke’s final words as he handed the guests over to the butler.

‘Thank you for visiting. I’ll see you in two days.’

After that, Bryant had to follow the butler to tour the townhouse. Only after listening to the proud explanations of the kind old man could he take the woman and leave. Playing the role of a polite guest at a noble’s dinner was truly a tiresome and exhausting task.

By the time they returned to the townhouse on Linden Street, it was already past 10 PM.

Bryant looked in the mirror, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. He checked around his now slightly bluish beard and ran his palm over it a couple of times. The stubble was a bit rough, but shaving was a morning task. 

No matter how delicate a woman’s skin might be, it wouldn’t be harmed by this much.

“What a needless worry.”

Muttering to himself, he chuckled at the absurdity. He must really be drunk. The fact that he was entertaining such ridiculous thoughts, muttering to himself in front of the mirror.

Rushing out of the room immediately after finishing his bath was even more so.

He climbed the stairs to the upper floor. The cook and attendants had already left and would return at dawn the next day, while the butler and four resident maids were in the basement quarters. Whatever the master did on the third floor, it wouldn’t reach their ears.

The townhouse at midnight was as quiet as stagnant water.

Standing in front of the woman’s room, he knocked. Knowing there would be no response, he knocked again, waited a bit longer, and then opened the door as if he had no choice. 

Is this ingrained etiquette or blatant hypocrisy? 

Bryant knew the answer. The two meant the same thing anyway.

He entered the room without permission and closed the door. The faint scent of the perfume the woman used lingered. A warm lavender scent. She wore a scent that might be found in herbal tea. That persistent perfume evaporated before noon, but if you put your nose behind her ear, you could still catch the remaining scent in the afternoon. Lavender softened by the woman’s own scent.

Thinking this far made his mouth dry. 

It must be because of the alcohol. 

Once again blaming the whiskey, Bryant looked around. Swallowing dryly, he approached the table and picked up a water bottle. He considered using the cup next to it but decided against it and tilted his head back.

Just as he took a large gulp in a somewhat barbaric manner, he heard the click of the bathroom door opening behind him.

“Mr. Clifton?”

He turned around, still holding the water bottle. Evelyn was looking at him with wide eyes. Her face was clear beneath the towel wrapped around her head. The hem of a white chemise was visible under the robe tied tightly at her waist. Even though she had just come out of the bathroom, her attire was perfect. Truly, she was an impressive woman.

“How did you already…?”

“I came to keep you from running off.”

As he replied, Bryant put the water bottle back in its place. Then he looked at her again and lightly teased.

“In case you try to escape to the study again.”

Evelyn laughed in disbelief. That meant she accepted the rudeness without blaming him. Bryant approached her with ease.

“You must be tired. Enduring an uncomfortable gathering.”

“No, it was fine.”

“Such gatherings may be beneficial, but they’re not very entertaining.”

Saying this, he reached out and unwrapped the towel from her head. Her wet hair cascaded over her shoulders. His large hand used the towel to dry the remaining moisture from her hair. Evelyn, who had been slightly awkward, soon allowed her head to be entrusted to his hand.

“It was a bit tough for me.”

“…Was it very uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

The woman subtly watched his expression. Bryant pretended not to notice as he dried her hair.

“It was hard to resist.”

“…”

“I wanted to touch you so much.”

With a nonchalant face, he said this while patting her long hair with the towel. Only after Evelyn, who had been watching him, gave a short laugh did he lower his eyes to look at her face.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because you said it to make me laugh.”

“You misunderstood. That wasn’t my intention at all.”

When he said this with a serious face, Evelyn laughed a little again. 

“I’ll do it now.” 

She reached out her hand, and Bryant handed over the towel without protest.

The truth was, he had indeed felt uncomfortable. It was genuinely bothersome for him. It was also true that he struggled to resist the urge to touch her. He was frustrated that he couldn’t show what kind of relationship he had with the woman. The most he could do was utter a few words; he couldn’t kiss her or hold her hand in front of others. It felt like being tightly wrapped in ropes, and that suffocating feeling made him extremely irritated.

No, ‘irritated’ was too mild a word. It was a more active emotion. A prickling in his stomach and a foul taste in his mouth.

Perhaps he was a little angry.

“I spoke with the Duke of Windberg.”

Evelyn looked up. The hands that had been drying her long hair had already stopped. Her face neither hardened nor turned pale. She simply closed her eyes slowly and opened them again with a nearly expressionless face. Looking down at that clear face, Bryant continued.

“He agreed to keep it a secret that you’re Dennis Howle.”

“…Ah. Yes.”

“You’ll visit Chester under your real name.”

“Thank you. That’s good.”

Evelyn looked at him. When their eyes met, she smiled gently. Bryant returned a similar smile. As always.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“To what?”

“Chester.”

He took a step closer to the woman. He reached out and touched her face. The feel of her moist and soft skin was pleasant.

“I think it will be interesting.”

He murmured quietly and took another step closer. Now there was no more space to close between them. As he pressed against her, his throat suddenly felt dry. Even though he had just drunk water.

Damn whiskey.

As he cursed inwardly, a sudden desire surged. Bryant wrapped his arm around her waist and untied the knot of her robe. He felt her hesitate at the unexpected touch but paid no mind.

He took the towel from her hand and placed it randomly somewhere. He slipped the robe off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Grabbing her hips over the thin chemise, he pulled her neck closer and kissed her. When he pushed his tongue in a bit hastily, Evelyn stiffened. For a moment, Bryant felt anxious. He worried she might turn her head or push him away.

Until now, he had treated Evelyn as gently as possible. She was a woman without much experience and quite conservative, so he had to be careful. In bed, she was very passive. It was completely different from how she would light up her eyes and argue back against his logic. That gap was certainly refreshing to Bryant, but it was also why he found himself having to restrain himself.

So this time, he stepped back for a moment. He slightly pulled away from her lips and then kissed her again softly, as if to soothe her. But after going through a rather patience-testing process and finally laying her down on the bed, his self-control ultimately reached its limit.

If he had to choose just one preferred method of intimacy, Bryant would definitely be on the rough side. A rough, somewhat brutal approach gave him the greatest pleasure. Of course, the definition of ‘rough intimacy’ varies from person to person. As far as he felt, he could reach the extreme when he behaved somewhat ‘roughly.’

Just like now. It felt like his head was spinning.

“Ah.”

He thrust in much more roughly than usual. He relentlessly hit the deepest part he could reach. It seemed the intense intrusion was overwhelming, but Evelyn did not push him away. However, she also did not reach out to hold him. This passive woman hardly touched him. She didn’t whisper that it felt good, that she was going crazy, or to do more. She just tried to suppress her voice as much as possible and accepted everything. That kind of docility was not to Bryant’s taste.

But who knows? Maybe that aspect of her drove him even crazier.

“Evelyn.”

When he called her, she opened her eyes. She looked at him, gasping for breath. Her moist brown eyes. Eyes that sparkled under the soft light. Looking into those eyes, Bryant spoke.

“Hug me.”

He stopped moving and, mixing his rough breaths, said once more,

“Hug me.”

Evelyn seemed not to understand for a moment. Or she appeared to be slowly digesting the words. Bryant caught his breath and kissed her lips. Then he lifted his head to look at the white arm on the bed. A reddish mark remained on her wrist where he had grasped it. Evelyn’s skin was delicate, so marks were easily left. 

Did I hold too tightly? Did it hurt? 

As he thought about the marks he left, that arm pulled his neck closer.

A little closer, their gazes met. Bryant lowered himself and embraced the woman. As their chests pressed together, they felt each other’s presence fully. Heated body temperature. Sticky skin. Distinct pulsation.

Two hearts beating fiercely.