Chapter 77: Ailea’s Initiative
Ailea had come across many intellectuals, artists, and ladies of the aristocracy today. She was glad to have experienced it all, but it overwhelmed her, causing a forced smile.
It was not the same with Clint. She was comfortable around him, and most likely the only one.
Smiling, she pushed him lightly. “I’m going to be reading this book. Please go somewhere else.”
His ears drooped like a pitiful puppy. “Ailea, no.”
“I’ll be fine. Countess Flora will be back soon.” She closed the curtains and sauntered away.
Ailea made herself comfortable on the sofa and turned the pages of the book. She had been engrossed when she heard the voices of women next to her.
“His Grace must like Count Winston.”
Ailea sat up, ears perked up. Winston was her favorite writer. She opened the curtains slightly and peeked outside. Clint was leaning against the book with a Winston book at hand. As always, women gathered around him like magic.
“Which of Count Winston’s works do you like, Your Grace?”
A timber voice tumbled out of the chuckle. “The Moon series.”
Ailea shut the curtains and mouthed “Me too!” silently with a smile.
The lady asked again. “Do you have a favorite quote from him?”
“I do.”
Ailea listened intently. The ducal couple opened their lips at the same time.
“I like flowers on a cloudy day as the halo of the moon paints the sky,” Clint said. His voice came out tenor with a sweet, musical quality.
Ailea voiced the same words he did. Suddenly realizing it, she covered her mouth with both hands.
Clint continued. “On humid days, I feel the flowers become children with full stomach. They smile brightly toward the yellow sun, grateful. There’s a sentence like this.”
Among the Moon series, a book titled “Flower of the Moon Halo” came to mind.
While Ailea had been lost in thought, Clint opened the curtains and peered over.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to peek. I like it, too.” Ailea placed down her hand and giggled. “I didn’t realize that I’d made a sound.”
She had met dozens of wonderful men and women today, but it was quite odd. The man before her was the only one she truly wanted to talk to.
“If there’s a man who makes you happy, you’ll be the first to know. Your heart will tell you.”
The words the countess imparted onto her came to mind. A jovial smile spread on her lips before laughter struck from her chord. It looked like jewels slipping out in Clint’s eyes.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked.
“Just…” Ailea wiped the happy tears from the corner of her eye.
She moved to the other side of the sofa. Really, the words the countess said to her kept repeating in her mind. If she truly fell in love, the only man she could think of was Clint. She did not realize it until now, but he had long grown a special place in her heart.
It both amused and scared her at the same time.
***
After returning from the salon, Ailea stared at her reflection in the mirror wall. She sat there blankly.
Clint is an otherworldly man both mind and attentive. He is also a beautiful man inside and out. Any woman would be distracted from his appearance.
The same held true for Ailea, despite knowing she was not a suitable partner for him. But he did suit her best.
She took off her mask, and stood up. Hot tears rolled down in waves. Would things have been different had she looked normal? She loathed her body like Lawrence’s disgust when he saw her.
She wanted her first time to be with Clint but she was afraid. But for tonight, she would take charge of her fate. She wanted to feel his touch, his embrace.
Clint is a kind man. He was no Lawrence. He would never utter words that broke her; he would not put her down nor shame her.
“Clint.” Ailea knocked on the door, calling his name.
“Come in.”
At his reply, she turned the knob and opened the door. Entering, she saw Clint laying on the bed comfortably — left leg crossed over his right thigh — reading a book.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Could… could I sleep here tonight?” she asked, and clasped the hem of her dress.
Clint stared at her, dragging out the silence.
She looked at him with a worried frown.
Finally, he answered. “…Go change into your pajamas first.”
I’m embarrassed, Clint. Please understand what I mean even if I don’t say it out loud.
“No, that’s not it—”
“You don’t need to force it.” Clint quickly understood what she meant. He sat up and rubbed her arm.
Chapter 77: Ailea’s Initiative
Ailea had come across many intellectuals, artists, and ladies of the aristocracy today. She was glad to have experienced it all, but it overwhelmed her, causing a forced smile.
It was not the same with Clint. She was comfortable around him, and most likely the only one.
Smiling, she pushed him lightly. “I’m going to be reading this book. Please go somewhere else.”
His ears drooped like a pitiful puppy. “Ailea, no.”
“I’ll be fine. Countess Flora will be back soon.” She closed the curtains and sauntered away.
Ailea made herself comfortable on the sofa and turned the pages of the book. She had been engrossed when she heard the voices of women next to her.
“His Grace must like Count Winston.”
Ailea sat up, ears perked up. Winston was her favorite writer. She opened the curtains slightly and peeked outside. Clint was leaning against the book with a Winston book at hand. As always, women gathered around him like magic.
“Which of Count Winston’s works do you like, Your Grace?”
A timber voice tumbled out of the chuckle. “The Moon series.”
Ailea shut the curtains and mouthed “Me too!” silently with a smile.
The lady asked again. “Do you have a favorite quote from him?”
“I do.”
Ailea listened intently. The ducal couple opened their lips at the same time.
“I like flowers on a cloudy day as the halo of the moon paints the sky,” Clint said. His voice came out tenor with a sweet, musical quality.
Ailea voiced the same words he did. Suddenly realizing it, she covered her mouth with both hands.
Clint continued. “On humid days, I feel the flowers become children with full stomach. They smile brightly toward the yellow sun, grateful. There’s a sentence like this.”
Among the Moon series, a book titled “Flower of the Moon Halo” came to mind.
While Ailea had been lost in thought, Clint opened the curtains and peered over.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to peek. I like it, too.” Ailea placed down her hand and giggled. “I didn’t realize that I’d made a sound.”
She had met dozens of wonderful men and women today, but it was quite odd. The man before her was the only one she truly wanted to talk to.
“If there’s a man who makes you happy, you’ll be the first to know. Your heart will tell you.”
The words the countess imparted onto her came to mind. A jovial smile spread on her lips before laughter struck from her chord. It looked like jewels slipping out in Clint’s eyes.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked.
“Just…” Ailea wiped the happy tears from the corner of her eye.
She moved to the other side of the sofa. Really, the words the countess said to her kept repeating in her mind. If she truly fell in love, the only man she could think of was Clint. She did not realize it until now, but he had long grown a special place in her heart.
It both amused and scared her at the same time.
***
After returning from the salon, Ailea stared at her reflection in the mirror wall. She sat there blankly.
Clint is an otherworldly man both mind and attentive. He is also a beautiful man inside and out. Any woman would be distracted from his appearance.
The same held true for Ailea, despite knowing she was not a suitable partner for him. But he did suit her best.
She took off her mask, and stood up. Hot tears rolled down in waves. Would things have been different had she looked normal? She loathed her body like Lawrence’s disgust when he saw her.
She wanted her first time to be with Clint but she was afraid. But for tonight, she would take charge of her fate. She wanted to feel his touch, his embrace.
Clint is a kind man. He was no Lawrence. He would never utter words that broke her; he would not put her down nor shame her.
“Clint.” Ailea knocked on the door, calling his name.
“Come in.”
At his reply, she turned the knob and opened the door. Entering, she saw Clint laying on the bed comfortably — left leg crossed over his right thigh — reading a book.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Could… could I sleep here tonight?” she asked, and clasped the hem of her dress.
Clint stared at her, dragging out the silence.
She looked at him with a worried frown.
Finally, he answered. “…Go change into your pajamas first.”
I’m embarrassed, Clint. Please understand what I mean even if I don’t say it out loud.
“No, that’s not it—”
“You don’t need to force it.” Clint quickly understood what she meant. He sat up and rubbed her arm.
