Chapter 4

“I doubt that money is being used properly. I just don’t understand how you can talk about poverty when you’re receiving 500 gold every month.”

Lionel looked at Clarette’s tightly clasped hands, questioning her.

“Does painting require that much money? Where did you spend it all that you act as if losing your sponsorship would be catastrophic?”

Clarette lowered her gaze, looking troubled.

Lionel waited, curious to hear what she would say. Would she be honest, or make excuses?

After a long hesitation, she finally confessed.

“The house I live in is a large two-story home. The rent alone is 400 gold, and the rest goes to materials and living expenses…”

“Wait. Just the rent is 400?”

Lionel frowned. 400 gold was about two months’ salary for an officer, yet she paid that much every month for rent? Seeing his expression, Clarette hurried to add,

“The small second floor is my living space, and the spacious first floor is my studio. It used to be used by my father and his students. Now… no one is left but my father’s paintings.”

“Then why not move? It doesn’t make sense for all your sponsorship money to go to rent.”

She shook her head at Lionel’s suggestion.

“All my father’s belongings are in the studio. And to store paintings, ventilation and humidity are important, but it’s hard to find a place that meets those requirements…”

“Why not just sell the paintings instead of storing them? Mr. Arno was a famous painter, right? The nobles would buy them at high prices and take good care of them.”

“That’s true. But once a painting is sold, I’ll never see it again. It’ll just be displayed in someone’s house. Like the paintings here in the Valentin ducal residence.”

“What about donating them to a gallery anyone can visit?”

“I tried, but they refused. Since he passed away not long ago, there isn’t enough historical recognition yet.”

“…Ha. Really.”

In the end, there were only two solutions.

She could give up on seeing her father’s paintings again and sell them to nobles.

Or he could continue sponsoring her as he had until now.

Lionel’s judgment was cold.

“Well, it’s your father’s legacy, so it’s not my place as a third party to interfere. Do what you want with the paintings. But asking for sponsorship just to keep them isn’t reasonable.”

“But, I need the sponsorship to paint as well…”

“You’re not Arno Sollier.”

He pointed out the reality bluntly.

“You said it yourself earlier. You’re not as famous as your father. So why should I support someone who isn’t a great artist?”

Clarette tried to respond, but he continued firmly.

“Tell me. Is Clarette Sollier, the painter, an artist worthy of the Valentin family’s sponsorship?”

Clarette only moved her lips, unable to answer easily. Lionel watched as she bit her lip, her head bowed.

She looked so pitiful that he almost wanted to comfort her, but he stayed silent.

If she wouldn’t become his mistress or receive sponsorship, then their connection ended here.

After a moment, Clarette murmured in a subdued voice,

“I believe I’m worthy of sponsorship. But I doubt I could persuade you, Your Grace. Since you said you have no interest in paintings, showing you my work would be meaningless.”

“That’s right. I know nothing about art. There’s only one thing I can judge. You’re an incredible beauty. That much is undeniable…”

“Please stop.”

Clarette cut him off and stood up. The moment he said ‘beauty,’ her face flushed with anger.

As if he’d touched a nerve.

“I understand your thoughts, Your Grace. There’s no point in continuing this conversation. I apologize for coming so shamelessly and asking for too much. I’ll leave now.”

He’d only complimented her looks, so why was she so upset? Lionel swallowed his question. She seemed to have shut him out completely.

So Lionel replied lightly,

“Then, this is farewell.”

“Goodbye, Your Grace.”

She gave him a brief bow and immediately left the room. Lionel quietly watched as the hem of her black dress disappeared through the door.

When the door closed, silence fell.

Lionel glanced at the empty spot she’d left behind. On the table, the teacup she’d used caught his eye.

A faint trace of lipstick was left on the rim where her lips had touched.

He recalled her lovely lips, and her tightly pinned black hair beneath the hat.

If the sponsorship ended and she ran out of money, what would happen to her?

If selling paintings didn’t work out, would she do whatever she could to survive? Since she’d even refused to become his mistress, it seemed unlikely she’d sell herself.

Would she just find a suitable man and get married? With her looks, that would be the easiest escape.

‘Well, that’s none of my business.’

Lionel tried to shake off thoughts of Clarette, but for some reason, he felt bitter. Now that she was gone, he kept thinking of her gaze.

Strong and clear, yet trembling every time he pushed her away—those beautiful green eyes.

Lionel reflected on his decision. No matter how much he thought about it, he hadn’t been wrong. The ducal family was on the verge of bankruptcy in a year; who could he afford to help?

But even rationalizing it, he still felt uneasy. He leaned back loosely on the sofa and looked up at the ceiling.

This place was never a battlefield suited for him. He was more at home where lives were at stake, rather than this kind of mental war zone.

“Master.”

Just then, the butler Oliver knocked on the drawing room door. Entering, he was startled to see Lionel looking so down.

“What is it? Has something else happened?”

Lionel’s voice was openly irritable. Oliver first checked that nothing in the room was broken and straightened his posture.

“I came to check since the guest has left. Are you all right?”

No answer came.

‘Ah, is it another woman problem?’ 

Oliver waited nervously for a response.

“Oliver, what time is the funeral tomorrow?”

“It starts at 2 p.m. After circling the ducal residence, the ceremony will be completed at the cemetery, followed by a banquet with the main guests.”

Oliver was puzzled by the sudden question. Lionel hadn’t seemed interested in the funeral, but was this wild man finally going to act like a proper Duke?

But Lionel’s next words shattered the butler’s faint hope.

“Good. I’ll go out early in the morning, so have everything ready by two. I won’t be late, probably.”

“Uh, where will you be going?”

“Well, I’ll have to check the contract to know. Since we’re talking about it, I should look up the address.”

Contract? Address? Oliver was bewildered by these cryptic words as Lionel strode out of the drawing room.

‘I can’t shake this feeling. I need to see for myself and decide.’

Heading straight to the study, he pulled out the old contract files Fabian had organized. After searching for a while, he finally found the forty-year-old contract.

‘Clarette Sollier… Is it really right to cast her life aside like this?’

* * *

The next morning, Clarette dressed neatly and left her house.

She had a lunch appointment with the owner of the most successful gallery in Moerven, the capital city of the ducal territory. That woman had even come to Arno Sollier’s funeral, urging her to sell the paintings.

Of course, Clarette had no intention of selling her father’s paintings, then or now.

‘Still, I should check the price. In case I ever need quick cash.’

She recalled her conversation with the new Valentin Duke from the day before and felt gloomy. She’d tried her best to keep the sponsorship, but it seemed pointless.

<How about becoming my mistress?>

‘How could he say something like that to someone he just met…’

Clarette sighed, still astonished. That kind of man was exactly what she hated.

That confident, relaxed tone. The easygoing attitude that showed he didn’t care if he was rejected. His handsome face and impressive physique used as weapons to get close—she could see right through his shameless intentions.

She could imagine just how many women had fallen for him so far.

‘All the rumors must be true. He really was a nobleman in all the worst ways.’