Chapter 12

The Marquis insisted on seating Clarette beside him, even though she tried to refuse. He personally handed her a champagne glass and even provided a napkin to wipe her lips.

His attitude toward her was as if she were a cherished noble lady, and the men around them grinned as if they had found some amusing spectacle. Lionel, among the laughing men, silently watched Clarette from behind as she held her glass.

What kind of expression was she wearing now? What was she thinking?

Somehow, it seemed unlikely that she was pleased.

“See that? Women like her use their looks to get commissions or sponsorships. I bet her paintings are terrible, but she must be skilled at something else.”

Lionel half-listened to the noblewoman’s voice, keeping his gaze fixed on Clarette. The Marquis spoke only to her, and every time he said something, the men looked at her and snickered.

It would have been enough to make anyone uncomfortable, yet Clarette sat quietly as if she was caught in some kind of weakness. After watching them for a while, Lionel was suddenly struck by a possibility.

Could it be because of money? Because he had cut off her sponsorship?

Was that why she was forced to sit in such an unpleasant place, unable to move?

Unable to take his eyes off them, Lionel drew the noblewoman’s attention and she frowned.

“Oh, I don’t know what Marquis Rembart is thinking. Even if he loves art, all those painters are commoners, yet he let them into a party attended by a Duke. And that woman—she’s supposed to be a painter, but now it looks like she’s just here to amuse the men…”

“Madame.”

Lionel could no longer tolerate her words and cut her off. He spoke to her in a low, steady voice.

“That woman is Clarette Sollier. She is the only daughter of the renowned painter Arno Sollier, and she mainly paints portraits.”

“What…? Your Grace, do you know her?”

“She’s a painter our family has sponsored for generations, since her father’s time.”

She was being sponsored by the Valentin Duchy? The noblewoman’s face, which had been full of criticism, turned pale.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know and I was rude to you, Your Grace…”

“It would be best if you apologized directly to Miss Sollier. If you don’t have the courage to apologize to her face, it would be wiser not to utter such slander at all.”

His voice was gentle yet cold as he finished speaking. The noblewoman could say no more and faltered. Lionel turned away from her and looked back toward Clarette.

He had no intention of just watching. He quickly approached the Marquis.

* * *

Was it always meant to turn out this way?

Seated beside Marquis Rembart, Clarette wondered if she had been too hasty in accepting this commission.

“Miss Sollier? Hey, are you not going to answer me?”

“I’m sorry, Marquis. I just don’t understand your question.”

Though she answered politely, the Marquis replied with a mocking attitude.

“I asked how many men you’ve painted so far. It’s a crucial factor in judging your skill.”

“Is the subject of the mural a man?”

“Who knows? For now, just answer my question.”

Clarette sighed silently and lifted her head. All the men around her were waiting for her answer, ready to laugh at her.

She spoke in a plain tone.

“Twenty-three. All were commoners, but they were portraits. Would you like to know the year and technique as well?”

The number was higher than expected, and the men’s interest faded a little. But the Marquis pressed on, as if he’d been waiting.

“So you’ve painted that many. Impressive. Then, how many of them have you slept with?”

“I’ve never slept with anyone I’ve painted.”

Her answer was firm, but someone snorted, and that set off laughter among the men.

As she looked around, puzzled at their reaction, the Marquis explained.

“Don’t bother lying. You can be honest. Everyone here has slept with their models at least once. Isn’t that right?”

The men agreed with shallow coughs and laughter. In truth, many painters used lovers or pr*stitutes as models, so the Marquis’s comment wasn’t entirely off.

However, there was no reason for Clarette to endure such suspicion or answer such questions in this setting.

“Marquis. If you’re only going to ask meaningless questions, I’ll be leaving. I won’t accept a commission if I have to endure such insults.”

She stood up, looking down at the Marquis with cold eyes. But he grinned slyly and grabbed her wrist.

“Wait, where do you think you’re going? You’re the star here—if you leave now, it’s a problem.”

“Let go.”

“Why so picky? Didn’t you come for my commission because you need money? I heard you lost your sponsorship.”

His unexpected remark made her pause. Had the rumors already spread? As Clarette’s eyes wavered, the Marquis gripped her wrist even tighter.

“There’s a rumor that the new Duke Valentin is a soldier with no interest in the arts. Well, he’s an illegitimate Duke, so it’s only natural he’d lack refinement.”

Clarette finally shook off the Marquis’s hand. She held her reddened wrist and stepped back, snapping at him.

“Don’t insult Duke Valentin.”

Clarette had always wanted to say this. Not just to the Marquis, but to all the nobles who mocked the Duke.

“He may not be perfect, but he’s certainly far better than someone like you, Marquis.”

Just because of his birth, they pointed fingers at Duke Valentin, but they were hardly remarkable themselves.

Yet the Marquis seemed to twist her words.

“I don’t understand why you’re so worked up. Did you swap sponsorship for a lover’s contract with the Duke?”

Clarette was about to firmly deny it when—

“Unfortunately, that’s not the case, Marquis Rembart.”

A low voice came from beside her, and she turned her head. All eyes were instantly fixed on the man standing next to Clarette.

No one knew when he had arrived, but Duke Valentin stood beside her, looking down on all the men with a relaxed smile.

The Duke’s gentle smile made his handsome features stand out, but his slightly lowered gaze was colder than ever.

He moved closer to Clarette and spoke to the Marquis.

“It seems you’re the one who’s worked up. Is it so amusing to gang up on one woman? You’re not a child, so your taste is rather childish.”

At Lionel’s sarcasm, the Marquis frowned and got up. Such blunt insults were unheard of in noble society.

“Your Grace, what are you saying to me on our first meeting? I’m the elder and the host of this party, yet you dare speak like that!”

The Marquis’s face flushed red, but Lionel looked at him with pity and mocked him.

“When you’re gossiping about someone, you act like a common thug, but when you’re the target, you suddenly become a noble again. Why are you so inconsistent?”

With each jab, the Marquis clenched his fist. Yet he couldn’t even threaten, let alone attack, the Duke.

Lionel was visibly a head taller and twice as broad as the Marquis. So the Marquis quickly controlled his anger and resorted to words.

“I was wondering why you suddenly picked a fight, but clearly there’s something going on between you two. Otherwise, why would a Duke behave like this?”

He gritted his teeth, but Lionel showed no sign of embarrassment, only smiling with interest.

“Yes, there is something between us. Clarette is my…”

“I knew it! They say you can’t live without women, Duke Valentin. But even if you’re desperate, how could you make such a useless woman your mistress?”

The Marquis interrupted, pointing boldly. But Lionel laughed, shaking his head as if it were absurd.

“No, of course not. Clarette is not my mistress. And she’s certainly not a useless woman.”