I Stole The Duke - Chapter 58
The tea house Mayflower, famed for its exquisite desserts, was bustling with customers as usual.
“Hey, did you see it?”
“Oh, that? Of course I did.”
At each table, spaced out just enough for privacy, chatter flowed endlessly.
“I didn’t think he was like that… I’m really disappointed. Don’t you think so?”
Today, the scandalous article in Wespera Daily Sports was the undeniable talk of the town. The people featured in the article had recently taken high society by storm, so the explosive attention was inevitable.
“Well… with a face like that, maybe it’s not so surprising?”
“Sure, say he’s just another pretty face. But the real problem is ‘L,’ right? She should’ve been more careful if she’s being considered for Crown Princess.”
“And what about the Duchess? She’s a married woman.”
“You think she actually… did it with him?”
“If she really did, wouldn’t she be dead by now?”
“When the Duke walked into the coronation ceremony… I nearly cried. That man’s terrifying. You think he’d let an article touching his wife slide?”
“So you think it’s true, then?”
“Ugh, what a waste. Just when it seemed like society finally had a decent man…”
Whenever a man seemed promising, he was already betrothed. And when the family looked decent, the man turned out to be another Goldman—or a sleazy social climber. Joel had been a breath of fresh air in Wespera’s stagnant social circles.
“But the Duke… he’s just too scary.”
In their imaginations, Joel was already dead and buried.
“Ah!”
One of the young ladies, who had been gossiping about the lurid article, suddenly let out a soft gasp.
“But what about the Duchess? She doesn’t even come from a noble background. Will she be okay?”
“Shh!”
The girl nearest the entrance quickly clamped a hand over her friend’s mouth.
“……”
The tea house, once filled with giggles and gossip, suddenly fell into complete silence.
“Michal, I’m surprised you know places like this.”
Ahem.
“Well… this is basic knowledge.”
The Duke and Duchess—targets of every conversation just minutes ago—had arrived at the tea house. And to everyone’s shock, they were holding hands.
He calls this kind of girly tea house basic knowledge?
While the entire place quieted like a snapped string, Eliana eyed Michalis’s profile suspiciously.
“The interior is lovely. Everything is pink—here, there, and everywhere…”
The clientele was ninety percent young noblewomen, ranging from late teens to early twenties. The remaining ten percent were couples. A place like this, filled with pastel charm, didn’t quite match a man like Michalis—a soldier to his core, who not long ago had been single since birth. It was… suspicious.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy the desserts even more.”
“Ah, over there—let’s sit.”
The seats by the window were already taken, so the Duke and Duchess had no choice but to settle near the center.
“Wow…”
Moments later, Eliana took her first bite of cake and let out a soft exclamation. While it was a shame they didn’t serve coffee, the chocolate cake itself wasn’t overly sweet, with a pleasantly bitter finish. It was exactly her kind of dessert.
“Do you like it?”
“Yes. It’s perfect.”
As Eliana scooped up another bite, Michalis’s lips curled into a small smile. Just seeing his wife eat so happily filled him with contentment.
“…Wait.”
As he watched her with warmth in his eyes, Michalis suddenly stood up.
“What is it?”
“That man over there is recording us.”
His gaze sharpened like a blade as he gripped his fork and glared.
“He must be a reporter.”
At the far table, a man had placed a video device beside his notepad, jotting down notes in a practiced manner. He looked like a textbook journalist.
“I’ll get rid of him.”
Between the trash journalist incident and today’s vile article, Michalis was thoroughly done with reporters.
“Michal. Dear. Sit down.”
Dear?
Michalis froze mid-step at Eliana’s sudden term of endearment.
“Well… if Eliana says sit, I’ll sit.”
Dear… she called me dear…
Back in his seat, his lips trembled ever so slightly.
“And ease up on the fork. Please.”
If Joel could kill a rat with a fork, then Duke Ascher could probably take down a man with one.
“I’m not gripping it that tightly.”
“Here, open wide.”
“…Ah.”
Pretending to hesitate, Michalis opened his mouth just slightly as Eliana gently fed him a bite of cake.
“It’s good, right?”
“…Yes.”
Honestly, if Eliana fed him rocks, he’d probably say they were delicious.
“Let them record all they want.”
At this point, it was better to show the media a picture of marital bliss and shut down the rumors before they grew legs.
“……”
She’s just too cute today…
As he swallowed the sweet-yet-bitter cake, Michalis turned his focus back to his wife. The icy gleam in his eyes melted into a warm glow.
“Uh, d-don’t you think the weather is… really nice today?”
“Uh… yeah. I guess?”
Bit by bit, the tea house thawed, conversation bubbling back up—though the topic had now shifted to something as harmless as the weather.
“Hey! Look—over there!”
“Ah…”
And just like that, the awkward atmosphere shifted once again.
“Oh my!”
The tea house buzzed again—because a new couple had just entered, fingers interlaced.
“Ah, Michal. That’s Sir Joel.”
Eliana turned her gaze toward the entrance, a note of delight in her voice. Joel and Riela were walking in, their fingers intertwined as they looked for an open seat.
Of course it’s Sir Joel…
Anyone could tell—they looked like a couple who had just fallen head over heels. Things must have gone well.
“If we acknowledge them, it might make Sir Joel uncomfortable.”
Michalis’s brow twitched ever so slightly—clearly, he was the one who was uncomfortable.
“Well… that’s true.”
Eliana, who had started to raise her hand in greeting, quickly lowered it. It would probably feel like bumping into your boss while on a date during a holiday. Awkward, to say the least.
Y-Your Grace…?
Their eyes met—Joel and Michalis.
“……”
Don’t greet me. Don’t come near. Don’t interfere.
Michalis shot a terrifying glare at Joel, loaded with silent threats.
I’m sorry, Your Grace. It’s just… this was the only seat left…
That was the problem with popular tea houses. Aside from the seats around the fearsome Duke Ascher, there wasn’t an empty table in sight.
“Your Grace. My Lady.”
“Duke Ascher. Duchess. A pleasure to see you again.”
“It’s your day off. Don’t mind us—enjoy yourselves.”
“It’s nice to see you again, Lady Rancelloti. Sir Joel, please make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you, truly.”
And just like that, the central figures of this morning’s scandal—who had shaken all of Wespera—were now gathered together in the famed tea house Mayflower.
“……”
Are they… dating?
I’ve never seen that fabric before… What designer is that dress from?
The tea house patrons were practically bursting with curiosity over the new couple. Who exactly were they? What was their relationship? And where did Riela’s exotic dress come from?
If it weren’t for the terrifying presence of Duke Ascher seated just a few tables away, they would’ve all rushed over by now, eager to ask a thousand questions.
Ahem.
Michalis subtly shifted in his seat. Now it was he who felt uncomfortable. If Eliana found out that Joel had been the one to recommend this place, it would be… awkward.
“Um, pardon me. I’m JR, a reporter for Wespera Daily Sports. May I request an interview?”
He did say there would be a scoop…
It was the same journalist who had filmed Joel just hours ago at the office, now cautiously approaching him once again.
“Of course. I’d be happy to.”
“……”
The background chatter—light and trivial—abruptly cut off. Every ear in the tea house tuned in.
“What is your relationship with Lady Rancelloti?”
The man lifted his notepad for all to see, asking the question clearly.
“We are, of course, in a romantic relationship.”
Joel’s voice echoed across the spacious room, crisp and confident.
“The moment I saw Lady Riela, I fell for her at first sight. I’ve been courting her night and day ever since.”
His soft voice lingered in the air, eyes fixed tenderly on Riela.
Oh my!
The entire tea house stirred silently with excitement. Everyone had heard how the southern star had shared the first dance with Lady Rancelloti at the investiture ceremony. Now, the pieces were all coming together.
“There is only one person in my heart—this woman standing before me.”
In a single moment, the scandal surrounding the Duchess and her knight vanished into thin air. Riela, once the center of tabloid gossip, had become the heroine of a stirring romance.
“……”
Even though she knew it was all for the interview, Riela couldn’t stop her face from heating up.
So that’s another way to confess, huh…
Michalis, watching from the side, silently took mental notes. Once again, Joel had taught him something unexpected.
“Are you too tired?”
“Oh no, I’m alright.”
Eliana stepped down from the carriage with Michalis’s help. They had eaten dinner out, and by the time they returned home, night had already fallen.
“Michal, I had such a wonderful time today.”
Oddly enough, even though their plans had changed repeatedly and they’d run into Joel and Riela three times… it had still been a refreshing experience. The atmosphere in Wespera was so different from the south—it had its own charm.
“As long as you enjoyed yourself, I’m satisfied.”
It had been a nerve-racking day for Michalis, constantly running into Joel’s new “couple,” but at least he’d always managed to move one step ahead.
At that same moment, a carriage stopped in front of Marquess Rancelloti’s estate.
“Let me help—”
Gotcha, you rascal!
Joel stepped down first, offering his hand to escort Riela, only to flinch mid-motion.
Thwack!
The sharp sound of clashing canes rang out through the night.
“W-What was that?!”
Startled by the sudden pressure of intent, Joel instinctively parried the blow with his own cane and stumbled back in shock.
“So you’re that J?”
From the shadows, a pair of glowing, furious eyes stepped into the light.
“…Yes, I am.”
“Then take your punishment!”
What time do you think it is?!
(It was, admittedly, an awkward 8 p.m.)
Taking someone’s precious daughter out and returning at this hour? Marquess Rancelloti’s fury had reached its peak.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
He’d heard this man was handsome—just looking at him was infuriating. Fueled by all the pent-up frustration, the Marquess swung his cane without mercy.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
Not a single strike even grazed Joel’s coat. Each blow was effortlessly deflected.
“My apologies, but I cannot allow myself to be hit by someone with inferior swordsmanship.”
Joel, though not yet a member of the Azure Knights, was a well-trained swordsman. Compared to someone who had learned fencing as a mere gentleman’s hobby, he could not—and would not—lose, even as a joke.
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