EID 15

15. Portrait of Olivia Blanchet
October 15, 2023

My God!

“June 16. Arrival in Pathex.”

The wristwatch, the lady’s final gift, was scheduled to be delivered on the Duke’s birthday.

Anne looked at Olivia, who sat still while maid Marie tended to her hair. She hesitated about whether to share the news, but it was Madame Marie who spoke first.

“There’s a designer I know—one who works quickly.”

Olivia had cleared the misunderstanding with Madame Marie and agreed to keep her nearby under the condition that she would only assist when requested.

“Could I meet her?”

“Of course. I’ll send for her first thing in the morning.”

“But tomorrow is Thursday, and the ball is the day after that. Isn’t that too rushed?”

Anne asked nervously.

“If it’s her, it’ll be fine.”

Marie responded with confidence.

And the next day, the designer, whom Marie trusted without question, arrived like a squad storming enemy lines.

“Hello, Miss Blanchet. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A woman wearing a tilted hat adorned with bright blue peacock feathers greeted her. Even as she spoke, her eyes swept Olivia from head to toe. Her gaze trailed down to the delicate ankle bone and quickly returned to meet Olivia’s eyes.

“Perfect.”

The woman, who introduced herself as Madame Loren, raised her bright red lips in a dazzling smile.

“Now then, let’s get undressed, shall we?”

By afternoon, the overcast skies gave way to rain.

Through the spruce-lined path, where red-purple blossoms bloomed, a black four-horse carriage entered under the rain.

It was returning from Raiden Palace, summoned by the Crown Prince.

Morris, who had been nervously pacing by the window, rushed downstairs.

On days like this—when bad news had to be delivered—even the weather seemed against him.

Johann Leopold especially hated rainy days. On such days, his mood was predictably stormy.

In other words, Morris would soon be pouring oil on an open fire.

As the carriage passed through the front gate, Morris let out a long sigh and walked out to the porch with the butler.

“Welcome back, sir.”

Johann, stepping down from the carriage, gave a curt nod and entered the house. Morris walked beside him, gauging his mood. His stride was full of restrained fury.

Morris couldn’t know what had been said during the audience with the Crown Prince, but it was clear that it hadn’t gone well.

He weighed the best time to deliver his report. Best to avoid the downpour.

“Speak.”

But there was no “best” time with Johann. There was only now or later. Pain now or pain later.

Since it’s better to get it over with, Morris offered the report in one concise sentence:

“City Hall in Litton has denied the permit.”

The echo of Johann’s footsteps in the high-ceilinged hall stopped abruptly. His already sour expression grew darker and more dangerous.

“Reason?”

His low voice spread through the room with the sound of falling rain.

“It’s a bit messy, sir.”

“Is the Lancelot family involved?”

“There was a meeting with the mayor of Litton yesterday. I’ll give you the full report in the study.”

There was no way Edgar would quietly let a Leopold Hotel be built in the heart of Litton. Just like Johann wouldn’t have.

Johann lifted his gaze.

His eyes slowly traced the ceiling’s painted fresco, the massive chandelier, and the scattered light across the ornate crystals, all with visible irritation.

“I told them you’d go welcome Princess Kranz. Don’t keep a lady waiting, Johann.”

He recalled the mocking face of Christian from the audience hall earlier that afternoon.

“Johann! Help me! If my engagement with Argent is broken, I’ll end up in a coffin next to Father. We’re brothers, right? Please, help me!”

Bastard.

It had only been three years since he’d crawled in on his knees, begging for help after the scandal with Olivia Blanchet.

Back then, Johann had accepted the dirty deal because he needed the title. Now? Not so much.

He wasn’t about to marry off like a breeding stallion just because Christian was being pushy.

Yes. He’d made the divorce too easy.

The gray-blue sky beyond the terrace reminded him of his desperate wife’s eyes—always yearning for him, poor and low-born.

Johann lowered his gaze from the grand Duke’s manor, one of the rewards he had gained by aiding the Crown Prince’s little performance. As he stepped onto the red-carpeted central staircase, he stopped once more.

“What is that?”

His cold voice made Morris follow his gaze toward the gallery stage, where the Duke and Duchess’s portraits usually hung.

But now, two handsome men with noble golden hair looked down at them with imposing expressions.

Johann’s eyes narrowed as he recognized one portrait—his late father, the previous Duke of Edinburgh.

“That is…”

The butler had just opened his mouth to explain when the sound of brisk heels echoed.

Diane came quickly toward them with a flushed face and a smile that made her look like the mistress of the house.

“You’re finally here.”

More than a month had passed since the divorce.

No matter how strikingly beautiful it was, Olivia Blanchet’s portrait still hanging on the central staircase was clearly inappropriate.

She had no reason to be displayed next to Johann Leopold anymore.

“Replace that painting with this one.”

Diane straightened her back and gave the order with graceful authority. She looked every bit the mistress of the manor—and no one protested.

Johann was too busy to concern himself with household matters, so Diane had managed Great Hill in his stead for some time now. Nothing strange about that.

The Duchess had been incompetent—and later, mentally unstable. Diane was practically the acting mistress.

Olivia had known nothing. She’d come to the Count’s estate at age six, received no education, and was seventeen before anyone bothered to teach her anything—just enough to sell her off in marriage after her family fell into ruin. She was ignorant and clumsy.

Diane found her laughable.

On rare occasions, when Olivia wasn’t drugged or drunk, she tried to fulfill her duties as duchess. And whenever she attempted anything above her station, Diane was quick to remind her exactly where she belonged. No one was better suited for that job than the Oscar siblings.

No one hated Olivia Blanchet more than her own half-siblings.

Their father had cheated with their mother’s friend. Their mother, in turn, had shot him dead in front of them.

Their mother would mutter the same thing over and over again:

“It’s all that bitch’s fault.”

Naturally, their twisted hatred turned toward Olivia.

And it worked. After each visit, she’d be left with her hair torn out, scratches on her face, and would stay shut away in her room until the wounds healed—silent as a dead mouse.

Even on those days she longed for Johann to visit, she wouldn’t open the door.

Poor thing.

Watching Olivia’s delicately dressed portrait being taken down by servants gave Diane a thrill. Like pulling a rotten tooth.

As the portrait of the former Duke of Edinburgh took its place, Diane recalled the debutante ball where she first met Johann.

He had entered escorting Princess Catherine—and Diane had fallen for him at first sight.

But he was with the Princess of Rondos, and Diane, as the daughter of a mere baron, gave up on him. Who could have imagined that a wretched bastard like Olivia would become Duchess?

If you could become Duchess, then so can I, Olivia.

Diane admired the newly hung painting a moment longer before heading to the kitchen with her maids.

Johann would be home soon, and it was nearly dinnertime. She checked on the venison being prepared and gave instructions for the table setting.

She enjoyed the routine that revolved around her commands. She saw it as both a pleasure and a duty.

Even so, she was always conscious of the other staff’s eyes and made sure not to cross any lines—after all, she wasn’t Duchess just yet.

That’s when the bell rang, signaling the household to line up.

He was here.

“You’re finally here.”

Every time Diane greeted Johann, she felt like his wife.

She was the only woman in Great Hill not wearing a black maid’s uniform. She stood out, effortlessly. Especially when the staff lined up like background props, as they were now.

Today, she had gone for a bolder look. Her corset was tightly cinched, her bosom provocatively lifted.

But Johann’s gaze was fixed on one thing: the portrait of the former Duke.

It was a bit disappointing, but his cold, mocking expression only made him more irresistible. Which, in turn, made her even more desperate.

Diane clasped her hands neatly and watched his profile, waiting for a reaction.

“I asked why this was hanging here.”

His low voice caught her off guard.

“Miss Brooke had it replaced.”

The butler answered.

“Put it back.”

“Understood.”

“Is there… a particular reason?”

Only then did Johann finally look at her. She couldn’t understand the cold, displeased look in his eyes. Why insist on hanging a portrait of his ex-wife?

“Your birthday is coming soon. It wouldn’t look good to guests at the party. Is it really necessary to keep it up?”

Knowing she was overstepping, Diane held her breath.

“Do I need the staff’s permission just to hang a painting in my own home?”

His reply was ice-cold.