Chapter 55
Felice froze at the sudden order. The eyes of the staff shifted from Claude to her. Meanwhile, Claude stepped out of the hall and opened the door, striding confidently into the sunlit outdoors.
Felice, left awkwardly standing there, quickly followed after him the moment he disappeared outside.
“Um… Butler, what should we do with the painting?”
One of the servants asked Ben, the butler.
“For now, don’t hang it. Just wrap it in cloth and set it aside.”
* * *
Is he angry?
As Felice stepped outside after Claude, the bright sunlight made her squint. She shaded her eyes with her hand, searching for any sign of him.
“Clau—huh? Claude!”
She just caught sight of him turning the corner of the building and called out, but it seemed he didn’t hear her, disappearing from view.
“Claude!”
Felice hurried over to the corner, peeking around just in time to see Claude leaning against the wall, looking down at her.
“C-Claude?”
Startled, Felice looked up at him and flinched.
“Is there something wrong with the painting?”
Claude had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tilting his head at her. His blue eyes sparkled under the intense summer sunlight.
Felice quickly looked down and took a step back.
“Ah… well, it’s a little hard to explain…”
She hesitated, unable to say it outright. She hadn’t even had a chance to unpack since arriving. So her bag, with Annie’s present inside, was still clutched tightly in her hands. She gripped the straps, nervously licking her dry lips and biting them.
“It’s alright, just tell me.”
Claude’s voice was gentle.
“…Felice.”
When he suddenly spoke so close to her, Felice instinctively looked up and froze. His face was now just inches away. Her mind screamed at her to back away, but instead, she gulped and found herself staring into his eyes.
They’re so clear, she thought.
Like jewels…
“Felice?”
Claude tilted his head. That finally snapped Felice out of it, and she blurted out:
“It’s just… There’s a brushstroke in the center of the painting that’s off. But if it’s really by the artist who won that prize last summer, that shouldn’t be possible.”
Felice slowly averted her gaze and leaned away.
“Couldn’t it just be a mistake?”
“He’s so obsessive, I really doubt it.”
“Maybe he was desperate and sold it for cheap?”
“He’s not that kind of person, either.”
“How do you know so much about this artist?”
“Huh?”
Felice winced. The truth was, they’d had the same art teacher, but…
“Oh, well… That’s just what the ladies said. Haha.”
But the furrow in Claude’s brow didn’t relax.
“Is that so?”
“…Yes.”
Felice answered weakly, his face still far too close for comfort.
She took another big step back, swallowing nervously. But then her heel caught on a stone.
Claude was standing so close—she thought he might touch her waist any second. In her panic, she instinctively swung her large bag up in front of her like a shield.
With a thud, Claude’s face collided with her bag, and a split second later, Felice toppled backward onto the ground with a thump.
An awkward silence settled over them. From her spot on the ground, Felice squeezed her eyes shut, then quickly scrambled to her feet and blurted out,
“I-I’m so sorry!”
Without another word, she darted back into the mansion.
Claude, left behind with a stinging face, stared blankly at her retreating back.
“She treated me like a creep…”
Looking down at his own hand, he let out a hollow laugh.
“Ha…!”
He pressed a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.
* * *
“You heard about it, right? That Baron Conn, the one who got slapped, ended up taking his tutor as a mistress.”
“Really? Anyway, it’s your turn. Hurry up.”
At a party at Viscount Barott’s estate, Claude was quietly sipping his wine, eavesdropping on the conversation at the next table.
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