Please Be Patient, Grand Duke Chapter 68.2

Published at 22nd of November 2022 09:15:46 AM

Canillia tried her best to calmly turn towards him, to smile, and to remain formal. But he hugged her hard.

“Anything to say?” he asked, ignoring onlookers.

She couldn't breathe.

“I'm glad you came back alive, my Lord Grand Duke.”

Her trembling voice went straight to his heart. Her eyes welled with tears.

Claude wiped tears from his own eyes and lifted his cape to shield them from onlookers.

Then their lips came together sweetly—a momentary kiss that held an eternity in it.

“We finally meet,” he said, caressing her warm cheek, his smile piercing her eyes.

They were interrupted by a shout from the Emperor. “Sound the horn! Let the ball begin!”

***

Rosina had overseen all the preparations for the ball from the decorations, to the food, to the music, to the seating. There were comfortable sofas and cushions scattered throughout the open space and tables set with fine china and flatware so all in attendance—the Empire's soldiers, the nobles, and royalty alike—would be comfortable.

Young ladies wore their finery and awaited invitations to dance from the noble generals.

Lia took a sip of champagne and looked up at the glimmering chandelier noticing how the light and shadows behaved.

“Lian, let's go see our father,” said Kieran and the two greeted the injured Gliad who was seated on a sofa.

“Lian, come here. Let me hug you,” said Gliad.

“I'm so happy that you are okay,” she said.

Anastasia looked worryingly as Gliad hugged Canillia, so she interrupted them saying, “Don't overwork. Let's go back so you can rest.”

“I must be here for His Majesty's toast,” said Gliad.

“Then, we'll move closer to His Majesty,” said Anastasia, moving to help the Marquis get up.

Lia felt shame that Anastasia had cut her time with the Marquis short, so she moved away quickly.

The Marquis had clearly wanted to stay, but he patted Lia's head, leaned against his wife, and moved.

“It's because Mother has always worried, Lian,” assured Kieran.

“I know. Thank you for taking care of me, big brother.”

Lia adjusted her collar and turned around casually. She heard Kieran saying her name, but she felt oddly tired.

Soon the music changed to a waltz and men walked across the ballroom floor to ask ladies to dance. The ladies laughed and pretended that they had no choice but to accept.

She watched them and then moved her gaze to Claude.

He was standing by the window with the Prince and many nobles, all of whom wanted to discuss politics.

As Claude fielded their questions, he turned and locked eyes with Lia.

Lia brought her glass of champagne out to the terrace as the waltz reached its climax.

The terrace was empty due to the cold. Her breath was visible and the tips of her fingers froze to the champagne glass.

Did I come out for no reason?

Regret overcame her. The dancers in the ballroom looked like a moving painting.

“May I have this dance?”

Lia whirled around at the unexpected invitation. There was Claude on the terrace.

“Can't you see all the young ladies awaiting your invitation to dance?” retorted Lia.

Prompted by her casual reply, he glanced back at the dancers and shook his head as if it were too troublesome.

“I only dance with the one I want.”

Lia remembered the day so long ago when he refused Marilyn's invitation to dance.

“Perhaps, you don't know how to dance?” Lia asked teasingly.

“In that case, I wouldn't have asked you.”

He was still so confident. He drew closer to her, smiling down at her.

Recalling her lewd dream about him, her heart raced.

Lia leaned against the railing and looked up at him, troubled. Then he took a step back, and formally bowed, outstretching his hand in an invitation to dance.

She looked about, worried that others would see them. But Claude removed the champagne glass from her hand, placed it down, and pulled her into his embrace.

She gasped. The tempo of the music—slow and sultry—mirrored their mood.

“You have to lead,” she said.

He led her in time with the melody and Lia followed awkwardly.

“You never learned to dance,” he remarked.

“There was no reason to.”

“Before we decided on the border,” Claude said, changing topics, “Ian Sergio said he would give us the diamond mine in exchanged for you.”

She simply laughed. She had just about completely forgotten about Ian Sergio. The deal he suggested was typical for him.

“It was probably a joke.”

“I don't think so. Perhaps, because you're too pretty as a man, Canillian.”

“Please don't mock me, Sir.”

Claude's eyes narrowed and then closed.

“Soon,” he whispered, “many things will change.”

Their footsteps were imprinted on the terrace snow.

Their steps and the strains of piano music were in harmony. Lia leaned her head against his hard chest and held his hand.

The moon peaked from behind a cloud and the snow fell on them and their shadows.

Claude wiped the snowflakes from her face, grabbed her sharp chin, and made her look at him. Each time their eyes met, it felt like the first time, their gazes evincing their longing for one another.

Claude looked into her eyes for a very long time, then bowed his head and whispered in her ear, “Let's go to the North together—to Del Casa.”

Chapter end