Chapter 37
The young daughter of the Count of Azellant, whom the Crown Prince had introduced to him, was anything but dull.
If anything…
“I’ve adjusted the gunpowder mixture it so it wouldn’t obstruct your view. Please try it out in various situations and let me know what you think next time.”
The moment she thrust a pistol into his hands at their very first dinner, Dominic finally understood why Lady Azellant had a reputation for being an eccentric.
“Especially when firing in rapid succession. I’d appreciate it if you could compare how much it reduces target reacquisition time against the one you normally use.”
“It doesn’t obstruct your field of vision? You mean it doesn’t produce smoke?”
“When I tested it myself, that was the result. But the recoil makes it difficult for me to fire repeatedly. If you don’t mind, I’d like to borrow your sturdy arm for a moment. Rapid fire is a bit much for me. And the servants are all afraid of guns.”
Dominic quietly studied Lady Azellant, who addressed him with complete nonchalance. Her attention never left the pistol.
Dropping the polite façade he’d maintained until now, he asked bluntly,
“And what exactly makes you think I should fire this? It’s gunpowder mixed by an amateur. What if it explodes the moment I pull the trigger?”
“The mixture is perfectly stable! I tested it myself before dinner!”
Still looking unconvinced, Dominic expertly loaded the pistol and raised it.
There was neither prey nor target in the dining hall.
No sane person would discharge a firearm indoors. Yet without the slightest hesitation, he aimed at a silver candelabrum standing some distance away and squeezed the trigger.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Five shots rang out in rapid succession, their deafening echoes rolling through the high-ceilinged hall until his ears rang. No glass shattered. No ornaments broke.
Only the five candles atop the candelabrum were neatly clipped in half.
“Milady!”
“My lady! Is something the matter—?!”
Startled servants rushed into the dining hall.
Far from alarmed, however, the perfectly unharmed count’s daughter merely clasped her hands together and let out an excited gasp.
“Oh! You fired all five rounds in rapid succession…!”
Dominic, on the other hand, merely looked down at the pistol in his hand, one brow arching slightly. What surprised him wasn’t his flawless accuracy.
Normally, the first shot would have produced a cloud of thick white smoke. This time, there was none. With his line of sight perfectly unobstructed, he had been able to acquire each successive target without the slightest hesitation.
Just as the count’s daughter had claimed, it was indeed smokeless powder.
After checking the cylinder to confirm it was empty, Dominic returned the pistol to her and asked, sounding genuinely baffled,
“So the proposal you were going to make wasn’t about marriage, but an investment?”
“You’re offering to invest? Well, I’d be grateful, of course!”
The eccentric count’s daughter looked at him with eyes sparkling with curiosity, excitement, and anticipation.
As Dominic silently met those confident almond-shaped eyes, an entirely different woman’s face suddenly intruded upon his thoughts.
‘What am I thinking…’
His brow furrowed.
She was nothing more than the governess he’d hired to keep his younger sister company. Worse, she was an incorrigible pervert with antisocial tendencies, an infuriating woman who constantly got under his skin and whose true thoughts he could never quite grasp.
And yet, why did the image of her tear-streaked, flushed face, crying out so shamelessly beneath him, refuse to leave his mind?
Then, without warning, an absurd impulse rose within him. He wanted to see those clear, gentle brown eyes shine with the same eager brilliance as this eccentric young lady’s.
The thought slipped out before he could stop himself.
“Lady Azellant, do you enjoy reading?”
“Hmm? Oh, I like books, but I’m rather picky about what I read. Why do you ask?”
At the count’s daughter’s curious question, Dominic found himself unexpectedly at a loss. After all, he couldn’t very well admit that an exasperating governess had suddenly come to mind.
“Do you read novels?”
“What? No. I don’t think I’ve ever read one. Your Grace, do you enjoy novels?”
The question, asked with unmistakable surprise, made Dominic forcibly push aside the face that had come to mind even before Chloe’s.
“…My younger sister does.”
As though suppressing an unfamiliar emotion he refused to acknowledge, his voice came out stiffer than usual.
“Ah, I’ve heard Lady Whitmore is quite the bookworm. So she enjoys novels? I was wondering if she wasn’t particularly interested in journals—”
“On that subject, what would make a good gift for someone who loves books?”
Even as he tried to erase those brown eyes that had been haunting his thoughts, the question escaped him anyway.
He knew perfectly well that the woman liked nothing more than vulgar, trashy novels. But he couldn’t very well buy books like those himself and present them to her.
It had to be something else. Something that would bring a genuine smile to that infuriating face.
Across from him, Lady Azellant frowned.
“Changing the subject so abruptly… does that mean you have no intention of investing after all?”
“As for the investment, allow me to give it some further thought.”
At Dominic’s offhand reply, the young lady of Azellant let out a disappointed sigh before offering a suggestion.
‘How about a book cover?’
For an eccentric, it was a surprisingly conventional gift.
Before returning to the estate, Dominic sought out the artisan she had recommended.
It was the perfect choice. For a woman shameless enough to carry around books with titles like <The Baroness in Heat and the Man in the Labyrinth>, there could hardly be a subtler or more effective warning.
Granted, few people would pay much attention to whatever book a governess happened to be carrying. But one could never be too careful. At the very least, she ought to maintain a measure of decorum. It was a perfectly reasonable justification.
This wasn’t because he’d developed any particular affection for the woman. It was simply for the dignity of the Whitmore household.
The moment he settled on that explanation, the inexplicable tightness that had been weighing on his chest eased, as though a knot had finally come undone.
Chloe, who treasured her books, always kept them wrapped in ornate covers.
Still, if this was to be a gift from him, then it ought to be far finer than anything Chloe used—a cover so elegant and exquisitely crafted that it resembled a work of art.
As he imagined casually tossing it to Irene .and the surprise and delight that would shimmer across those warm brown eyes, the corners of Dominic’s lips curved into a faint, unconscious smile.
Unwilling to acknowledge the feeling that had already grown far beyond his control, Dominic Whitmore retreated behind a convenient excuse.
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