Lady Felice’s Secret Class - Chapter 33

“I’ll show you to the sitting room first.”

Claude looked up at Count Legrand’s mansion and gave a slight nod to the butler’s words.

The mansion, tightly wrapped in thick vines, preserved the architectural style of an old noble family.

As he slowly admired the faded bricks, his gaze dropped to the butler holding the iron gate with a bell. Claude raised an eyebrow upon noticing that one of the Count’s possessions—rarely discarded due to his love of art—had been recently replaced.

After a brief moment of thought, a knowing smile crossed Claude’s face as he entered the mansion.

“Looks like the collection has grown quite a bit.”

At Claude’s remark, the butler, who had been bowing his head, flinched and raised his face.

The young butler had soft features with dark brown hair and downturned eyes, and his sun-kissed skin showed the healthy masculinity typical of a young man.

“…Pardon?”

Startled, the butler responded, and Claude gave a slight smile as he stepped inside. At that moment, the Countess came down the stairs with a bright smile to greet him.

“Sir Racliffe has arrived! Thank you for making the journey.”

Count Legrand, who remarried last year at fifty, had brought in a young, beautiful bride with a poignant past, chosen with his sensitive artistic eye.

As the Countess blushed facing Claude, the butler’s eyes flickered rapidly.

“No, I should be the one thanking you for the invitation.”

Claude smiled and followed the Countess.

“We met once before at the Royal Academy of Arts, remember? You were carefully inspecting emerging painters.”

Claude tilted his head toward the Countess.

Her face turned a deep red, and she shyly glanced at him. Though not quite the poised Countess expected to entertain guests properly, she seemed uncertain about how to behave in her new role.

The Count, however, was not the type to care much about such things. Although he loved antiques, he wasn’t stubborn about them—he simply liked anything beautiful.

He was a different kind of collector than Baron Whitmore, who entrusted Claude with a collection worth almost his entire fortune.

“I remember. You also enjoy paintings, right?”

In truth, Claude did not really recall.

Since he frequented the Royal Academy of Art, he had met countless people there and could barely remember conversations with those outside his usual circle.

“Yes… and I don’t just enjoy looking at paintings—I also like to paint.”

The Countess fluttered her long eyelashes, and Claude responded with a formal smile, “Is that so.”

This, too, was a phrase he had heard many times before.

Rumors had quietly spread that Claude had bought paintings from an unknown young artist. Although he was a newly wealthy man, he had no influence on the prices set by proud aristocrats in the art world.

But it gave him a new topic for conversation with approaching women—the possibility that the unknown painter might be him.

He remembered the first young lady who raised this topic. Much like the Countess, she invited him to her mansion, promising to show him her paintings, then approached him wearing only a shawl, carrying her art supplies, inviting him to admire her figure as if it was a work of art.

He did paint, but his style was different, and his skill showed the inexperience of a novice.

“Well then, please wait a moment in the sitting room.”

The Countess smiled and stepped aside at the door. Unlike the previous young lady, she was quick to catch on.

Crossing the hallway, she went on to attend to the next guest.

Claude sat on the sofa in the sitting room, greeting those who welcomed him lightly, then scanned the walls filled with paintings.

Several works by a famous artist from last summer were on display.

As he followed the four seasonally themed paintings, his gaze suddenly stopped. Beside a bare branch stood a woman.

Their eyes met, and she smiled warmly.

“Have you been well, Sir Racliffe?”

She was Duchess Vanessa, a friend of his mother and a loyal attendant. So beloved by society that the rose she adored became a symbol presented to the season’s debutantes—Trouville’s beloved.

“Long time no see, Duchess. I heard you had been unwell and stayed at your villa. So you’re in Trouville now? Has your health improved?”

Of course, Claude’s thoughts were different.

Whether it was love or ambition, from the moment she became Duke Vanessa’s wife, the marriage seemed destined for a certain outcome.