The Duke’s Imposter Sister

I cannot go, for I am waiting for the embroidery class. It will start soon. Gris told Quentin, hoping that this excuse would suffice.

She fretfully touched the embroidery that was laid in her study table so that he may see that she was serious. Quentin furrowed his forehead as he found her reaction rather offensive.

Do you plan to keep him waiting? He asked her in a loud tone.

Rather than planning to keep him waiting, shed rather not meet him at all, Gris thought. Strangely, it was not because she hated him this time. It was because she feels so low whenever he arrogantly looked at her, he hated his eyes that gazed at her as if she was just filth on his boots.

Thinking on it now, Gris realized that even Quentin thinks she was lowly, and though Quentin also held the same abhorrent feelings for her, she does not feel hurt by his condescending gaze. It was strange why she was so sensitively reacting only to Duke Vianut what made his perception of her so different from that of others?

Knowing that Quentin wont leave her alone, Gris stood up from her seat, her head held high.

Lets go, then. She told him.

As if Quentin could no longer wait, he snatched the embroidery plate and left the classroom. Gris sighed as she followed him out while eyeing the embroidery he took; she was currently making it as a present for the grandmother.

Gris followed Quentin silently, but she was casting daggers at his back.

As they walked Gris noted that though it had continuously rained all day yesterday, there was not even a sight of a cloud today. Sunlight warmed the grassy fields as the wind made it swing in a cool breeze.

In the center of the golden field, Gris saw Vianut. He was sitting while reading a book on a bench. It was the same bench where Gris would often linger whenever she had free time. It seemed that he came at the place not so long, since he was holding his book with the black leather gloves still on his hand. Gris also saw him biting the middle finger of his other hand to remove the other glove as they approached.

His dark black hair was shining beautifully in the sunlight. Since then, she had hated the blazing sun which seemed to have favored Vianut. Gris no longer wanted to appear before him, she did not want to show him a face engulfed with shame and humiliation anymore and that was what she felt each time he came to her. She also did not want to hear his voice that would taunt her again with cold words.

Gris walked towards Vianut but she fixed her gaze at the flowers and butterflies dancing in the fields. She moved to sit on the front of the bench. He should know how to acknowledge her presence, but he only looked at the Bible, as if showing her that she deserves such unfriendly treatment.

A strong wind blew from somewhere, bringing a strong scent of flowers with it. As Gris inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers, the wind blew her yellow skirts and it flipped over to her thighs, she panicked and tried to pull it down over her feet.

His blue eyes, which were casually moving along the words of the Bible that he read, inadvertently moved its directions to her exposed skin. Gris suddenly felt a strange movement in front of her and she knew this did not even come from the flowers. She glanced at Vianut and noticed that his once flawless eyes gradually became cloudy. She couldnt understand his reaction, but she comprehended that it was one of confusion. His intense gaze on her made Gris feel a burning sensation in her nape.

It was because a man was austerely looking at the part of the body part which was usually covered by clothing and furthermore, he was holding a Bible on his other hand. Gris felt rather embarrassed.

When his rather low breath spread through the gaps of his teeth, she found her breath hithc in her throat. She had the habit of trying to control her breathing each time she felt uncomfortable, she did this to ward off the unfamiliar kind of tension, shiver, and palpitation that was currently engulfing her.

At that moment, she noticed his darkened eyes came onto her thighs again without warning. Something filled her turbid retinas. Confusion? Or greedthere was something in his eyes, but it was a look she has never seen before.

Gris eventually exhaled the breath she had been holding and looked down at herself. Even if she stretched her flesh, her thighs have solid muscles. She has a white complexion but because of the skin allergy that she got in the brothel, there was a dark scar that started from her calf and rested above her knee.

It was ugly and made her look more worthless in appearance.

As always, she deserved to be ridiculed.

Gris soon realized that there was indeed something wrong with Vianut as she saw a blue blood vessel that was pulsating in his nape. Confused about whats happening, she immediately put down her skirt. As if he faced an unexpected event, he furrowed his brows and put the book down.

It seemed that uncle had changed his plans.

She did not understand his words. What plan was he pertaining to? How did he know what Stephan was thinking?

Vianut must have felt an untimely heat, that caused him to take off his wolf fur cape and put it down on the bench beside him. Then he gestured at the seat next to him and said to her.

Sit here.

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