Chapter 122

Under the dim streetlights, Clarette’s eyes appeared a bright olive color. Lionel, thinking how he wanted to touch the shadowed cheek beneath her eyelashes, quietly waited for her next words.

“Um, later, at the hotel…”

Clarette’s voice grew softer as she pronounced ‘hotel’. Lionel found her shyness adorable and asked with a small smile,

“At the hotel, why?”

But Clarette’s answer was not at all charming.

“Let’s use separate rooms.”

Lionel was momentarily speechless at her unexpected suggestion. He suppressed his urge to firmly refuse and replied calmly.

“…We came all the way to Genoa, and you want us to sleep separately? Why should we do that?”

“I… I have to paint even at night. The deadline is tight if I want to finish in two weeks.”

“It’s only been a day. If you work hard from tomorrow, shouldn’t it be fine?”

“But the composition I’m planning has a lot of figures, so coloring will take longer than expected. I’m struggling with the sketch since it’s my first time drawing this layout. Maybe it’s the change of environment, but I’m finding it hard to concentrate…”

“Are you serious, Clarette?”

Lionel stopped and gently furrowed his brow. When Clarette paused and looked back, he asked, showing his suspicion,

“Are you really having trouble concentrating because of the environment? Or…”

His next question sharply hit her true feelings.

“Did Earl Crowley say something to you earlier?”

“…Why are you bringing up Earl Crowley here?”

“He’s the only reason you’d suddenly act like this.”

Faced with Lionel’s confident gaze, Clarette hesitated before answering,

“Earl Crowley has nothing to do with it. He just stopped by to look at my painting for a moment.”

That’s a lie.

Lionel watched Clarette mumble without meeting his eyes.

He was going crazy with worry. What on earth had Richard said to her? Or maybe it would have been better if he’d just said something and left.

“Clarette, Richard didn’t do anything to you, did he? He didn’t touch you or anything…?”

“What? Not at all. How could something like that happen in the cathedral?”

“Then what happened?”

“I told you. It has nothing to do with Earl Crowley, it’s just… because I’m not good enough.”

Clarette answered with a pained expression, as if he’d hit a sore spot.

“So please leave me alone for a while so I can focus on my work. It’s a rare opportunity, and I want to do well.”

Their gazes clashed sharply in the air.

Lionel could concede one night, but ‘for a while’?

He wanted to drop all church and imperial events and stay locked in a hotel room with Clarette for two weeks. Last summer in the forest, he’d only had nights free for painting, which had been frustrating.

Now, if he wanted, they could easily spend all their time together in the hotel.

The painting of Saint Hubert didn’t require a model, so it could be painted at the hotel. After answering the Crown Prince’s summons tomorrow, Lionel had no other obligations.

With such a perfect opportunity, Clarette only cared about her painting. Lionel felt so hurt by her that he was almost frantic.

“Clarette. Did I do something wrong to you?”

“No. I’m not doing this to punish you.”

That seemed to be sincere. Though it was, in effect, a punishment.

Lionel looked at Clarette with dissatisfied eyes, but finally gave up and sighed. He worried if he pressed her further, she might run away to a convent.

“Then, you take the bigger room, I’ll use the one where I put my luggage.”

“No. All my art supplies are in the small room anyway, so I’ll sleep there. Besides, if you sleep in such a messy room, the hotel staff will think it’s strange.”

Clarette’s logic was so neat that Lionel had nothing to say. He nodded bitterly and resumed walking.

* * *

The soft sound of charcoal moving across the canvas filled the small room.

Clarette’s room was the lowest-grade room in the hotel where the two were staying. This was due to the strict judgment of Oliver, the butler.

Oliver believed the Duke and the commoner artist’s rooms should be completely different.

So the room assigned to her was very cramped. To make matters worse, bags and art supplies were scattered everywhere, making it feel almost like a storage room.

And this cheap room didn’t even have a chair. Clarette had no choice but to sit on the small, shabby bed to paint.

‘I have to finish the sketch by the day after tomorrow, no matter what.’

Clarette carefully drew each line.

When she switched to the third canvas, the cathedral priests started giving her looks. There probably wouldn’t be another chance.

So, around midnight. Clarette finally succeeded in outlining the composition and sighed as she looked at her now passable painting.

‘Lionel must be sleeping.’

Thinking of his disappointed eyes made her feel uneasy. But Clarette couldn’t bring herself to be honest with Lionel.

After hearing that his mother committed s*icide, her mind was so disturbed she couldn’t focus on her painting.

‘How could I say that? And if he knew I learned it from Earl Crowley, he’d feel even worse.’

Clarette took a practice sketchbook out of her luggage. The white paper once filled with Lionel’s face was now crowded with another person’s face.

The beautiful smile of Estelle, a blonde, blue-eyed woman.

‘I’m used to copying her portrait now. But coloring is…’

Clarette recalled the colors of the damaged painting and took colored pencils from her bag.

‘Ugh, it’s so hard to match the colors. When I paint, it always ends up darker than the original.’

How could she fill her father’s painting with gentle colors that blended naturally? Clarette held the colored pencils and tried to match the tones.

But as she worked harder on her practice coloring, her hand grew tense and impatient.

‘I keep getting anxious. Honestly… I’m scared.’

Afraid she might ruin her father’s painting. Afraid she wouldn’t be able to perfectly recreate Estelle’s beauty.

She wanted to give Lionel the best painting, but she was so lacking compared to her ambition.

‘I don’t have much to offer him, so I want to do well at least with this.’

Desperation echoed in her mind, and words Thiago had tossed out during the hunting competition reverberated.

<You have a different style from Master.>

‘I know, I know it well…’

Thinking of Thiago’s confident gaze, Clarette became even more discouraged.

Just then, there was a loud knock.

Clarette jumped and closed her sketchbook, calling out,

“Who is it?”

“Me.”

It was Lionel. He seemed to lean against the locked door, making it shake and thump quietly.

“Your Grace…? What’s going on?”

“I have something to talk about. Open the door, please.”

Lionel knocked again, sounding oddly hoarse and awkward.

‘Is he drunk?’

She’d never seen him drunk before and hesitated, but she couldn’t leave Lionel in the hallway.

Clarette put her sketchbook back in her bag and went to the door.

When she finally opened it, she met Lionel’s eyes, his cheeks flushed.

“Thank you. Excuse me.”

He pushed in as if he’d been waiting, closed the door, and leaned loosely against it. When Clarette looked up at him in confusion, Lionel smiled awkwardly.

“Sorry, Clarette. We agreed to sleep separately tonight, but I came anyway.”

“You didn’t come here to sleep with me, did you?”

“Yes.”

Lionel answered and quietly felt for the doorknob, locking the door. Clarette sighed and shook her head.

“Lionel, it’s already past midnight. I have to paint tomorrow… Don’t you have plans?”

“Yes. His Highness the Crown Prince called me to the palace.”

“What? If you have such an important appointment, you should sleep early!”

“But…”

Lionel lightly rested his arm on Clarette’s shoulder. Smiling at her scolding green eyes, he confessed,

“I’m already drunk.”

As Lionel gently pulled her into his arms, Clarette finally caught the faint smell of alcohol. She hesitated, pressing against his chest, but he held her close and whispered in a languid voice,

“Very much.”