Portrait of An Arrogant Master - Chapter 202

Isabella glanced over at Rubens, who was eating across from her. His chiseled features and neat attire made him look as beautiful and elegant as ever.

‘Was I being too suspicious after all?’

They had met for the first time since returning from the south. After seeing him take revenge on Marchioness Lingston, she had thought the wedding might fall apart, but preparations were proceeding smoothly.

While Rubens seemed somewhat indifferent, that expression wasn’t unusual for him, so there was nothing particularly alarming.

‘Right. No matter what, he’s still my betrothed, and he wouldn’t seek revenge on me.’

She felt that she had perhaps overreacted. With the wedding approaching, she had been overly sensitive after hearing about the mistress’s sudden appearance.

He couldn’t just cast Isabella aside. No, Rubens couldn’t easily abandon Isabella’s family either.

“Then, we’ll handle the ceremony just like we did at the engagement ceremony. I’ll personally oversee everything and manage the details.”

“Of course. If Madam Krygen handles it, we can rest easy.”

Soon, the formal meeting was coming to a close. Isabella breathed a sigh of relief and sipped her tea.

“Kuhm!”

At that moment, Count Werfel cleared his throat loudly. His gaze turned toward Rubens.

“KHM!!”

He cleared his throat again, but Rubens didn’t even glance up. He kept his eyes downcast, seeming completely disengaged from the conversation.

‘Come to think of it, he’s usually quiet, but he seems a bit absent-minded today.’

Normally, even if he didn’t show interest, he never appeared so distracted.

“But, Duke Krygen, are you really interested in this marriage?”

Count Werfel showed his displeasure.

“Of course. The marriage between Rubens and Lady Werfel has been promised since before they were born—”

“I’m asking Duke Krygen.”

Count Werfel interrupted Ottilie’s words.

As Ottilie gently pressed Rubens’ foot under the table, Rubens finally turned his gaze toward Count Werfel.

“I don’t think you’re particularly interested in this wedding. Could it be because of the rumors circulating? I’ve heard you haven’t gotten over the female painter who painted the engagement portrait—”

“Father! That’s not true! We agreed not to bring it up!”

Isabella immediately tried to stop him, but Count Werfel didn’t back down.

“Stay quiet. The wedding right in front of us is the important thing! How heartbreaking it is to have a husband who keeps a mistress?”

Countess Werfel rubbed her forehead, clearly irritated by the father-daughter argument. In fact, this topic had already come up during their carriage ride to the Duke’s estate.

They had decided to let it go for now, but seeing Rubens so distracted, the Count couldn’t hold back anymore.

“This wasn’t something I wanted to bring up, but I’ve been curious about it.”

The atmosphere had already turned somewhat awkward, and Countess Werfel’s added her own remark.

“I’ve heard rumors that you were quite fond of that female painter. I’ve also heard she’s on the run now, but if you find her later, would you ever consider taking her as your mistress?”

As soon as Rubens heard the word ‘mistress’, he let out a soft, mocking laugh. The sound of it shook Isabella’s heart. She was terrified of what he might say next.

“No, Madam. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Fortunately, Rubens gave an answer that allowed everyone to breathe a sigh of relief. That relief didn’t last three seconds, though.

“However, it’s true that I’m still deeply involved with her, so I can’t promise that I won’t cause distress to Lady Werfel.”

“What does that mean…?”

Countess Werfel’s eyes twitched briefly with shock.

“I agreed with Lady Werfel not to interfere with each other’s private lives. But it seems Lady Werfel’s displeased with me meeting with others while she’s seeing her own lover.”

“What are you saying? Are you telling me my daughter has a lover?!”

This time, Count Werfel stared at him, wide-eyed in disbelief.

“Oh, the Count and Countess didn’t know? I heard she’s quite close with the butler at the townhouse…”

“That can’t be! My daughter is such a virtuous young lady! You must be mistaken. Isabella, tell me! Is this true?”