Please Be Patient, Grand Duke-Chapter 84.1
“I once respected you, but now I’m just embarrassed for you.”
Claude’s footsteps rang through the greenhouse. Amidst the servants clearing the dishes, Gliad sat alone at the table with his eyes closed.
“Grand Duke, I love my daughter.”
He was baffled at how the marquis would dare to use the word love. “Is that why you let everything happen?” asked Claude.
“If I hadn’t, my wife would have kept on hurting Canillia, and one day she would have succeeded. I… I’m afraid of what she will do next.” The marquis’s hand trembled at the thought, but Claude only felt a fresh wave of how shameless he was.
“So you’re going to send her away to Geore out of fear, not love?”
“It’s for her own good. I have no other way,” said Gliad, slowly opening his eyes. “Same goes for the banquet today. If I hadn’t ended it, something would have definitely gone wrong.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” spat Claude.
At the coldness of his words, Gliad lowered his head in response. But just what was Ian Sergio thinking? Although he knew Canillia was his, holding hands with the marquis was nothing but provocation and defiance. An uncontrollable rush of anger made Claude shake. Hee had no intention of sending Lia away to Geore.
It was strange in the first place tha Ian Sergio was called here in the first place. He expected something like this to happen after he was aware of the fact that Ian proposed to Canillia, that he might be the last choice Anastasia had in taking care of Canillia.
But something was off. As someone who regarded honor the same as her own life, Anastasia was quiet after being humiliated in front of the nobles. Why was that?
Why…
“Grand Duke!”
Claude stopped his steps at Rosina’s yelling. White as a sheet, Kieran appeared and hurriedly opened the door to the servants’ passageway and ran inside without a single look back.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Marilyn Shelby is in this manor,” said Rosina.
“Marilyn? What are you talking about?”
“I saw her through the second story window. She gave a cup of tea to Canillia’s driver.”
Rosina told Claude everything she saw. Soon, a loud scream could be heard and the door that Kieran had just stepped into opened.
“Let go!”
Kieran had Marilyn by the arms—the same Marilyn Shelby who vanished in Louvre three years ago.
Yelling at the top of her lungs, Marilyn caught sight of Rosina, and next to her, Claude. She was suddenly speechless. She flushed with shame and humiliation. Claude stared at her and asked, “What happened?”
“She said that there was nothing in the tea. Then why are you here? Who brought you here, Shelby?!”
Marilyn broke free of Kieran’s grasp.
“I’ve done nothing wrong! Is there a problem with being a maid under a noble family? I only sought to make something of myself, and the marchioness brought me here. Is there a reason that you think there’s another reason I’m here?”
“A reason, you say. Maybe it’s along the same lines as putting your father up for death.”
Claude’s words brought a violent rush of memories and Marilyn could only glare at him. She didn’t want him to see this side of her. Three years ago, she really did not know what conspiracies and schemes were lurking in the Shelby family. All she did was love Claude, and she had no other crime than believing in her parents’ innocence. However, she was kicked out because of him, and fell to the bottom. He didn’t believe her, and did not forgive her father. Despite this, shining so brightly in front of her, she could neither hate nor despise him.
“Please believe me. My father was sentenced to death for poisoning the former duke. Do you think I’m capable of doing the same thing?” Marilyn yelled with tears in her eyes. Surprisingly, the expression on her face showed nothing but the truth.
When Kieran was about to shout a rebuttal, Claude asked, “Then why did you give out tea?”
“It was the order of my master. And… although I’m deeply grateful, I do not deserve her benevolence. I… refused to follow her orders.” As tears fell from her eyes, Marilyn pulled out a small bottle from her pocket and held it out. It was a glass bottle in its sealed state. “It’s a sedative, not poison. My master told me to put a little, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be a murderer.”
Even if she had to crawl on the ground, she refused to let it get her down.
Marilyn was the same as before. She was cynical, despised others, and had a self-righteous attitude, but her pride as an aristocrat was extraordinary.
Staring at the sedative in her hand, Claude turned to leave.
“Grand Duke!”
“Claude!”
