EID 12

12. The Temptation of Diane Brooke

She dabbed a drop of perfume onto her wrist, rubbed it in, and brought it behind her ear.

The scent—an enchanting blend of ocean mist and fresh tuberose with a crisp floral note—was bottled in a teal-green flacon, the same color as the duchess’s eyes.

It had originally been a gift from Johann to Olivia for her birthday, but Diane had intercepted it. In its place, she had given Olivia a perfume with overpowering notes of musk and ambergris.

She recalled Johann wrinkling his nose at Olivia’s intense perfume scent and had barely managed to stifle her laughter.

When Olivia visited Johann to get approval for her jewelry purchases, Diane had casually remarked:

“The perfume you gave her doesn’t quite suit her tastes.”

Thinking back to that moment made Diane smile again.

She glanced in the mirror, adjusting her pose from side to side, and then left her room. Walking through the dimly lit corridor, illuminated only by the red wall sconces, she headed toward Johann’s bedroom.

***

Just before midnight, Johann entered his bedroom, mildly drunk. As soon as he opened the door, he was struck by a strong wave of perfume. A woman, startled, turned around.

Olivia?

“You’re finally here,”

The secretary he had hired for his wife looked at him with a startled expression. Olivia? The absurdity of it irritated him.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s been raining all day. The bedding felt a bit damp,”

Diane watched his reaction closely as she continued.

“I came to change the sheets.”

“Is that part of your job?”

Johann opened both balcony doors wide. The rain had stopped, but the wet, humid breeze caused the curtains to billow slowly. The hem of Diane’s thin dress swayed gently.

Johann leaned against the wall opposite her, arms crossed, looking down at her.

“Everyone seemed to be asleep. So I brought them myself.”

In his intoxicated state, she looked more than passable.

Her outfit was more suited for joining him in bed than changing it.

For a man who had no scruples about sleeping with any woman who crossed his path, her appearance would’ve been enough.

Being the object of a man’s full attention always gave Diane a thrill—especially when that man was someone as perfect as Johann Leopold.

He stepped away from the wall and slowly made his way to the cabinet.

With one hand, he smoothly rolled up his sleeve and took out a wine bottle and corkscrew; in the other hand, he carried two glasses. He moved with a slow, seductive grace.

Diane turned around and pretended to smooth out the sheets. She bent forward, deliberately emphasizing the curve of her hips.

“Let’s have a drink.”

Ah, yes.

Hearing his voice behind her, Diane slowly straightened up and turned around. Johann, now seated, gestured for her to sit in the chair across from him.

She always wanted to look her best for him.

As she walked over, she made sure her long legs in silk stockings peeked out through the slit in her dress.

She had never been alone with Johann before. There was always the duchess or an aide acting as a barrier.

Johann carefully inserted the corkscrew into the wine bottle and pulled out the cork with precision.

As he tilted the bottle, filling the glasses, Diane watched his long fingers and smooth hands, imagining those hands caressing her body. Her lower abdomen tingled with heat, her heart raced.

“Just one glass—it’s late,”

she said coyly, accepting the glass he pushed toward her.

She watched him pour the wine into her glass too. Deep down, she wanted to throw herself into his bed and roll with him like an animal. But tonight, she had to restrain herself.

She couldn’t let it end as a one-night fling. She didn’t want to be an easy woman. She wanted to become the Duchess Leopold, and to do that, she needed to stoke his desire a bit more.

The candlelight between them cast a secretive glow.

Johann remained silent, simply swirling his glass and watching the red liquid whirl within.

What should I say?

Diane decided to let Johann initiate the conversation, giving him the upper hand.

Men loved moments where they could flaunt their intellectual superiority.

If she offered light resistance in conversation but let him win in the end, he’d feel dominant—and that sense of victory would carry into the bedroom.

Sipping her wine, Diane imagined the pleasure this man could bring her. And finally, he spoke.

“Do you know about the men my wife met?”

“…What?”

Caught off guard, Diane blinked dumbly. She hadn’t expected that name to come up.

“My wife’s men.”

His low voice snapped her back to reality like a splash of cold water.

“Yes, of course. But I never felt it was my place to comment on her private life—”

Johann cut her off.

“You seem confused. I’m the one who hired you.”

“…”

“And I’m the one who can fire you.”

Johann crossed his long legs and rubbed his temple as if tired.

Even when threatening someone, he managed to do it with lazy charisma.

Diane finally made a decision and spoke with apparent hesitation.

“When I found out, it was already too late—they were deeply involved. I tried to stop her, but it was no use. She went behind my back to see him.”

She didn’t like where this was going, but now that the topic had come up, she might as well steer it in a direction that favored her.

After all, she was the one who had suggested introducing a man to that foolish Olivia to provoke Johann’s jealousy. She had arranged their secret meetings and leaked rumors to society so they’d reach Johann’s ears.

“Whenever I tried to convince her to stop betraying you, she would punish me—”

“Just give me the names.”

His voice and expression had turned icy, but Diane was secretly delighted. Then a question struck her:

Why is he asking this now? He hadn’t cared one bit during the marriage.

“Kyle Mitchem, a ballet dancer. Then Andrea Nicolai, the artist who painted her portrait. Milton Lamont, her shoemaker.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the chance she met someone behind your back?”

“Impossible. I was always with her whenever she went out.”

“Then, what about Edgar Langster Ranslot?”

“…What?”

Again, Diane blinked in confusion.

Why bring up that name now?

She was starting to get irritated. This was not how she wanted to spend her evening.

“As far as I know, they never met in private.”

At that moment, Johann’s expression shifted slightly. Still staring at the wine glass in his hand, he said indifferently:

“Leave.”

What?

Diane was so stunned she nearly repeated the word aloud again.

***

It had been nearly a week since Olivia had been staying at the Ranslot Hotel. The place had grown familiar, even endearing. It was time to decide where to go next.

“Briar…”

She folded the map she had been staring at for a while and murmured to herself.

Anne, brushing Olivia’s luscious brown hair that flowed down her back, asked:

“What’s famous there?”

“Nothing really. I’m just thinking of living there.”

“In Briar?”

“Yeah.”

It made sense to find a house—she couldn’t live in a hotel forever—but Anne hadn’t expected her to choose Ritton.

She assumed Olivia was simply traveling to clear her head. Even if the trip was long, she believed Olivia would eventually return to Rondos.

But it seemed Rondos was no longer part of Olivia’s future.

“Briar roses are said to be the most beautiful in Britt. Seems like it’s a good business. Maybe I’ll run a rose farm. What do you think?”

Olivia’s voice was slightly excited.

“If that’s what you want, I’m all for it.”

“Then let’s go visit this weekend.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Anne finished brushing Olivia’s thick brown hair and tied it up high with a blue ribbon.

“Maybe I should cut it.”

“…What?”

“Don’t you think a bob would suit me?”

“Well… maybe, but…”

Anne trailed off.

She thought of a young girl, small and fragile for her age.

With thin, pale limbs due to malnutrition, her thick, shiny brown hair seemed to absorb all the nutrients from her body.

The Countess had once stormed in with shears, grabbed that young girl’s hair, and hacked it off without mercy.

Even when the blade grazed her scalp and made it bleed, she hadn’t stopped.

Until the girl turned seventeen and left the attic, she had her hair cut like that repeatedly. Olivia had flinched at the mere sight of scissors ever since.

“…Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

Anne asked cautiously.

Since leaving the attic, Olivia had never cut her hair.

“Yeah. It’ll be easier to manage.”

“If it’s because of me, please don’t. I love brushing your hair.”

Anne’s expression was oddly strained. Jian peeked into Olivia’s frozen past like a shard of ice.

Ah…

She paused for a moment, then smiled gently.

“It’s okay now. Next time you have time, cut it pretty for me.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Anne nodded.

Olivia headed to the tennis court with Anne. Since it was free for hotel guests, she intended to use it regularly before leaving.

Arriving about ten minutes earlier than her meeting with Elaine, Olivia lightly swung her racket to warm up.

Under the bright morning sun, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the crisp air. Birds chirped, and footsteps approached.

As she opened her eyes with a smile, she turned her head and saw Edgar, dressed in tennis gear, walking between the green hedge maze walls.

Their eyes met before she could avoid it