The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 90

‘How can you look at me like that?’

 

Confusion filled Freesia’s emerald eyes.

 

 

Artia, meanwhile, had the look of a grandmother watching her mischievous granddaughter.

 

“She’s pretty.”

 

Count Elysium aside, Freesia’s beauty was certainly something to behold. Even if you didn’t have a crush on her, she was a sight to behold.

 

Just then, a man approached Artia.

 

“Hello, Frau Edenberg, I’m glad to see you here. I’m Richard von Genefick.”

 

Artia recognized the name.

 

‘He’s the one who sent me three marriage proposals.’

 

He was ten years older than Artia, the second son of Count Genefick, and had been widowed a few years ago, leaving him alone.

 

Richard offered his hand with a buttery smile.

 

“I hope you will dance with me.”

 

It was the most polite of dance requests, but Artia shook her head.

 

“Thank you for the offer, but I must decline.”

 

Richard’s eyebrows arched for a moment, but he quickly composed himself.

 

“Come on, let’s have a dance. Isn’t it so lonely being alone without a dance when everyone else is with their partners?”

 

“Not at all, thank goodness. I’m more of a spectator.”

 

“Then why don’t we dance to just one song? Frau Edenberg may not mind, but when an old woman stands still like this, people say bad things about her. It’s a laughingstock.”

 

The moment Richard reached out his hand to Artia… his hand was knocked away with a tremendous thud.

 

It was only his gentlemanly pride that kept him from screaming in pain as his hand was blown off.

 

Grabbing his limp hand, Richard glared at his assailant.

 

“Who the… hic!”

 

Richard’s face turned from anger to horror in an instant.

 

“Your Imperial Highness?!”

 

The man glaring down at Richard with an arrogant, vicious glare was Killian.

 

He wasn’t the only one. Everyone in the ballroom was stunned.

 

In the silence, as if time had stood still, Artia asked, puzzled. “Why is your majesty here?”

 

“Because I was invited.”

 

It was the Count of Elysium’s grand feast, and invitations had been sent to every nobleman in the capital, including the imperial family.

 

But it was only a formal courtesy to the imperial family, not a genuine expectation of a visit.

 

“Send for Prince Killian, and no other!”

 

Count Elysium and Freesia, who had stopped dancing and were panting, bowed to Killian.

 

“Greetings to the blood of the almighty Orpheus. We are humbled by your noble presence.”

 

A bead of cold sweat broke out on Count Elysium’s face, which had been so proud a moment ago.

 

Even for a high-ranking noble, Killian was a difficult man. He was even more difficult to face in this situation.

 

Unlike Count Elysium, who was so nervous he could barely breathe, Killian opened his mouth with an almost bored expression.

 

“From what I’ve heard, this is an event where you’re supposed to be accompanied by a partner. Wouldn’t it look ridiculous if I showed up alone?”

 

The man on the floor and Count Elysium both exclaimed at the same time, their faces white with disgust.

 

“Well, of course not!”

 

No one would dare to blame Killian, even if he had come in his underwear. Unless he wanted to get his throat slit and leave for heaven right now.

 

But Killian uncharacteristically lowered his eyebrows.

 

“You’re getting on my nerves. I’m a very observant person…”

 

‘A mad king who once killed a man with a sword in front of a gathering of royalty from other countries?’

 

Killian’s appearance, which seemed to be more insane than the rumors, caused people to feel extreme fear of the unknown.

 

Amidst the stifling atmosphere, Killian extended his hand.

 

Toward Artia.

 

“So, will you be my partner tonight, Artia von Edenberg.”

 

‘What’s wrong with you?’

 

Artia wanted to turn and walk away, to pretend she hadn’t heard or seen anything, but she couldn’t.

 

The light from Killian’s golden eyes was too intense for that.

 

There would be no one in this world who could resist those eyes.

 

Frightened, or mesmerized.

 

Artia placed her hand over Killian’s as if mesmerized.

 

Her breath caught in her throat at the contact with his cool hand.

 

‘If he weren’t wearing gloves, my heart would have stopped.’

 

Artia walked with him toward the hall, hoping he wouldn’t hear her thumping heart.

 

As soon as Killian and Artia entered the hall, the astute musicians began to play the music they had stopped. Once again, it was a song of desperate love.

 

The music is so sweet it’s almost sticky, and Killian and Artia begin to move in time.

 

People looked shocked, as if they had seen something that should never have happened.

 

“His Majesty Killian, an extreme misogynist, dancing with a woman?”

 

Artia’s friends, including Penelope, stamped their feet as if they had to pull Killian away from her with their lives.

 

“What if the mad king comes to his senses and slits Artia’s wrists!”

 

In reality, Artia looked nonchalant.

 

She was nervous, but not at all afraid.

 

She knew that Killian’s virulent misogyny would dissipate in her presence.

 

More than once, he approached Artia first, spoke to her, and gave her a small smile. If he was uncomfortable with her, he never would be.

 

Artia was sure of it.

 

‘I must have gotten really comfortable with him. I don’t even feel like a woman anymore.’

 

‘But what can I do about this?’

 

‘I don’t feel comfortable with you.’

 

‘It wasn’t love, to be sure, or any other particular emotion.’

 

‘It was just an awareness of his gender that I had forgotten out of fear.’

 

That was the problem.

 

This man, Killian, had an infernal charm, like a drunken summer night when the air was tingling.

 

If you love a man, you can’t help but be drawn to him, regardless of age, taste, status, or anything else.

 

So this is inevitable.

 

The tingling in her fingertips, the pounding of her heart, the heat in her face, it’s a completely instinctive physical reaction.

 

Like eating a crunchy carrot and feeling delicious, or reading Ms. Redlip’s novels and feeling delighted.

 

As Artia struggled to suppress her excitement, Killian’s voice came to her.

 

“I heard you met Calvin.”

 

Artia’s eyes widened, and instead of asking how he could know something her friends didn’t, she answered obediently.

 

“Yes, my aunt made arrangements for us to meet.”

 

“What was he like?”

 

“He was a polite gentleman, though not my type.”

 

“I thought you said you liked cheerful, amiable men.”

 

“You remember that well enough, but there’s something I didn’t tell you.”

 

Artia whirled around and made eye contact with Killian again.

 

“I look at a lot of things.”

 

For some reason, the corners of Killian’s eyes twitched slightly.

 

As if he had heard an answer he liked.

 

 

Meanwhile, the reactions of the people watching them dance were shifting from disbelief to admiration.

 

As expected, Killian didn’t glare at Artia, nor did he dismiss her as unpleasant.

 

The women (and some of the men) blushed as he danced gracefully, maintaining eye contact with Artia.

 

“Even though I’ve known him for a long time, I’m still in awe of his prowess. He’s so gorgeous, I can’t believe he’s real.”

 

“I’m sure I’m dreaming,” one said, pinching the back of her hand, ”and it hurts.”

 

Their excitement quickly turned to envy.

 

“I don’t know how she came to be chosen by His Highness, but for this moment, I’m madly envious of Frau Edenberg.”

 

“I’d like to be there when the dancing is over and His Highness comes to his senses, so I can have my hand chopped off.”

 

All eyes, interest, and longing in the ballroom turned toward Killian and Edenberg.

 

Count Elysium, who had become one of the countless spectators in the crowd, gritted his teeth.