Chapter 34

A week later.

The gallery in the annex of the Valentin ducal residence was completely transformed after the auction. As promised to Clarette, Lionel filled the gallery—now left with only Castion’s ‘Spring’—with paintings by Arno Sollier.

“Ah, these paintings remind me. That middle-aged painter with white hair.”

Earl Crowley, Richard, who stopped by the ducal residence to see Lionel, wanted to look around the newly renovated gallery. Lionel, standing before Arno’s still life of a basket of green apples, spoke up.

“Richard. Have you ever met Arno Sollier?”

“Of course. He used to visit the ducal residence quite often. When I first saw him as a child, I thought he was the previous Duke’s close friend. Turns out he was a sponsored painter.”

“Is that so. What kind of person was he?”

“He was a man with quite a strong impression. Rather stubborn, too. If they just swapped clothes, everyone would think the painter and the previous Duke’s status were reversed.”

Arno Sollier, as befitted an artist, seemed to have a resolute personality. Lionel recalled Clarette’s upright and firm character and smiled faintly. Father and daughter were alike.

“But Lionel, did that woman really have all these paintings? If that’s true, she’s rather wealthy.”

“Clarette has no intention of selling even a single piece. Simply because they’re her father’s paintings.”

“That’s a shame, they’d fetch quite a price. Artists really do have odd standards. By the way, is this statue also by Arno Sollier?”

Richard stopped in front of the Statue of Lovers, tilting his head. Lionel shrugged.

“That’s a work by a sculptor named Castion. It’s the most expensive piece in our gallery. It was before, and still is.”

“Ah, was it so expensive nobody dared to bid? Why is this the only one left?”

“I decided not to sell it. I wanted to keep at least one.”

“…You? Lionel, have you suddenly developed an appreciation for art?”

Richard looked at his cousin in surprise. Sensing Richard was about to bring up Clarette, Lionel quickly changed the subject.

“By the way, weren’t you Marian Belvard’s partner at the last party? Why was she alone at the end?”

“I wasn’t her partner. Lady Belvard just stuck by me because she’s very interested in the Valentin family. We’ve known each other for a while.”

“When did you meet?”

“A year ago. I traveled to the Asilique Kingdom with the late Victor.”

Richard stood in front of Arno Sollier’s vibrant landscape, reminiscing about those days.

“As you know, Victor loved traveling, even abroad. Our meeting with Lady Belvard was by chance. We were all staying at the most expensive hotel in Asilique.”

Lionel didn’t know what his late brother liked, but he accepted Richard’s words. He only clearly remembered what his brother disliked.

Victor de Valentin, a noble pacifist, shunned all sources of conflict. He hated war and soldiers, and detested gossip and romantic quarrels.

So for Lionel, a soldier who fought in actual battles and the illegitimate child of a mistress, Victor considered him ‘someone who shouldn’t exist.’ A family disgrace, a stain on his father, and an embarrassing younger brother.

While Richard explained his meeting with Marian, Lionel was lost in thoughts of Victor. The last image he remembered of Victor was in his coffin.

“Richard, do you have any portraits of Victor? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one. Did I miss it?”

Richard looked at Lionel, who asked so calmly, and shook his head.

“He didn’t leave any portraits. There were several opportunities, but he refused every time.”

“Why?”

“He said he’d have one painted after receiving his title. He claimed there was no point in painting himself as he was now, since he was nothing.”

“…I see.”

Lionel decided to let go of the memories of Victor in his mind. If there was no portrait, his brother’s face would eventually fade entirely from his memory.

“At least, thanks to Arno Sollier, there are plenty of portraits of the previous Duke.”

“Yes. He painted quite a few.”

The previous Duke of Valentin, as a patron, had many portraits of himself painted by Arno. Thanks to that, Lionel could confirm, year by year, that he bore absolutely no resemblance to his father—except for their prominent noses.

“Then, among the portraits Arno Sollier painted…”

Lionel began to wonder about the portraits, muttering absentmindedly. As he trailed off, Richard became curious.

“Hm? Is there something else you’re looking for?”

“…Ah, no. It was nothing. Let’s head out—I need to tour the domain today.”

Lionel shook his head lightly and left the gallery. But as he headed to the carriage with his cousin, one question kept circling in his mind.

‘Could her portrait still remain?’

His mother’s portrait, of whom he had no memory at all.

* * *

That afternoon, Clarette left her studio and was painting a landscape in the garden. The ripened spring weather was clear and warm, with just the right amount of breeze.

“Clarette, is there anything else to move?”

Diane was carrying art supplies for Clarette, who was painting outdoors. Clarette smiled as Diane placed the chair in front of the easel.

“Thank you, Diane. Sorry for the trouble…”

“Oh, don’t mention it. I actually prefer working alone in the annex over dealing with the bustle of the main house. No strict butler, and it’s peaceful.”

Diane answered brightly, watching Clarette prepare to paint. Clarette, with practiced hands, set the canvas on the easel and neatly arranged the palette dotted with paint and brushes on the side chair.

She was always so calm and diligent. Diane gazed at Clarette with admiration, then suddenly shared a thought.

“By the way, Clarette. About that painting of a woman we found last time—the previous Duke’s mistress.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I can tell the Duke we found that painting?”

Clarette slowly shook her head at Diane’s question.

“No. I was thinking of telling him and showing him only after I restore it completely. Why?”

“Well, I just thought I should report to the Duke first. The butler always says the master of this house shouldn’t be kept in the dark about anything.”

Diane did have a point. Especially since it was a painting of his late mother—it would be very special to the Duke. Even if the painting was badly damaged, the decision of what to do with it belonged to him.

But after thinking deeply, Clarette shook her head.

“Diane, you’re right, but… I still want to show him the painting after it’s been cleaned up. If the Duke finds out his mother’s painting was abandoned like that, it might trouble him.”

Clarette’s reasoning made sense, too. Diane decided to respect Clarette’s wish to consider the Duke’s feelings over the butler’s orders.

“All right. I’ll keep it secret for now, but when you finish restoring it, please tell me. Promise!”

“Yes, I promise.”

Clarette nodded with a smile, and Diane left, reassured. Left alone, Clarette colored the bushes in the landscape, lost in thought.

<His Grace lost his mother shortly after he was born…>

Growing up without a mother—Clarette knew well how lonely that could be. Fortunately, she had a loving father.

<When I was young, I lived alone in a townhouse in the capital.>

As she recalled, the Duke was the family’s illegitimate child, unwelcomed in noble society. For him, his mother’s painting might be a truly special gift.

‘I must restore it properly and return it. It’s my father’s painting, so I should be able to restore it.’

She kept thinking about how to fix the painting as her hands continued to paint the landscape. Slowly, color filled the beautiful sketch of the garden.

When she finally ran out of green paint on her palette, Clarette sensed someone approaching and turned around.

The Duke of Valentin, having returned from his outing, was walking toward her.