The Sculpture Must Be Destroyed

Marianne needed the Duke of Galate’s patronage.
She wanted to escape her life as an unknown sculptor.

The Duke of Galate had earned his reputation by sponsoring unknown artists and helping them make a name for themselves.

But the Duke of Galate Marianne saw was a statue himself.
In the way his beautiful face betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

“Whatever meaning you put into it, that sculpture won’t sell.”

His cold gaze was far removed from the warmth of someone who recognized an artist’s talent.

“Marianne, bring your work to the duke’s residence.”

The duke offered her a chance at patronage.

“By creating the most beautiful body.”

It came with conditions.
But where was she supposed to find the most beautiful body?
Marianne found her answer.

“I have a request, Your Grace. Please take off your clothes.”

Marianne met the Duke of Galate’s eyes.

“How much do you want me to take off?”

The Duke of Galate removed his coat. It slipped from his body and fell to the floor like a shed skin.

“I have no experience with this, so I’m not sure. If you tell me what to do, I’ll try.”

The man who had shed the name of the Duke of Galate stood before her.
She had to sculpt that man.

* * *

He had to sponsor that sculptor.
Her talent lay in the way she caught his eye and refused to leave his mind.
The moment she came running toward him lingered in his thoughts.
That bright smile and the voice that chattered away with “Your Grace,” caught his eye and wouldn’t leave him.

An eye for beautiful things, a heart that could feel sorrow; the sculptor who held everything he lacked had unearthed the emotions he had buried.

“Of everything I have experienced, you are the only thing I find difficult. You, Marianne.”