My Vengeful Former Lover - Chapter 113

Thanks to the servant managers who strictly oversee their tight daily routines with little to no rest, the servants naturally rushed to the mansion thinking that the masters would choose to eat there instead of on the bumpy road.

But as Deatrice had been staying with Lucius whose face had a bored and languid expression on it the whole time, she knew that he didn’t really care where they ate. It was just like Raymond’s description of him during his academy days—sitting at the back of a boring class, and then suddenly chopping wood that came out of nowhere by lunchtime, amongst other things.

But as the master commanded, the servants had no choice but to obey. Under a tree whose age might’ve been two centuries old, they hastily searched for a blanket and food, thus starting the sudden picnic.

Lucius specially ordered Atkins to come and get some food, saying:

“I trust that you will be wise. Your hands will provide the bread for me and my wife’s little picnic.”

When Deatrice saw that he pinned the task to the knight, her view of his twisted nature was renewed.

It didn’t stop there, Lucius seemed to be waiting for her to respond to that choice. It was in the way he looked at her as the sunlight shone, leaning against the tree and watching her between the gaps of the leaves that fell to the ground. Like he was waiting for her to retaliate by saying that Atkins was not his errand boy, and he didn’t have to do what Lucius said.

There was silent provocation under the guise of his languid eyes. But Deatrice just sat next to Lucius, pretending not to know, and leisurely played with the flowers on the corsage.

Of course, it wasn’t that Atkins was hated because of his relationship with her. But in the end, he was a knight under Lucius and the latter was still his commander. Lucius could use his men, Atkins included, according to his whims and she couldn’t say anything about it.

The light passing through the transparent mottled leaves became colorful, like the sun passing through stained glass. Deatrice leisurely watched as the back of her hand was tinged by its hues.

When Lucius realized that she wouldn’t say anything in defense, he quickly became bored. The fight he anticipated did not come.

Deatrice could feel Lucius’ body sitting very close. Soon, she saw his fingers rising slowly and touching the ends of her loose hair. His breathing was heard as it faded along with the sound of the wind, and a large hand rested on the hem of her skirt.

“I waited for you yesterday.” He started, “I even snooped into Philip’s playroom thinking you were there because I know you like him a lot…”

There was brief laughter in his voice as if the words he said were absurd.

Deatrice frowned. She couldn’t understand him for being so frank with her sometimes. Just like when he confessed that he was going to annul the marriage, and then yesterday when he didn’t show himself to protect his pride, but now he had the gall to suddenly complains that his efforts were in vain?

Six years ago, she had been very surprised by his sudden confession. She fell in love more when she saw his incomprehensible side and was delighted to know that he cared enough for her to share his feelings with her. But now she just felt like his toy.

When she didn’t even respond, Lucius asked.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Deatrice replied numbly, “Why does it matter that you’ve waited for me?”

Lucius furrowed his eyebrows as if her answer were nonsensical.

“Even if it doesn’t matter… Did you not feel anything?”

“That’s true, I don’t feel anything.”

“Why?” He asked tenaciously.

Deatrice suddenly felt that everything was funny. She raised the corners of her lips and laughed. Every word she spoke with him, and his feelings were foolish and immature, like a conversation between ten-year-olds.

“Well, what did you want me to say?”

The lackadaisical tone of her voice pricked at his heart somewhere, leaving him unsettled. As she had guessed, Lucius almost burst into a childish fit.

Who is really in a hurry right now?

If their marriage broke down, Deatrice is the one pushed to the edge of the cliff. Even with the help of the duke, she would no longer have a stable footing in the Empire. Killing her would dirty his hands, so it would be best for her to continue her marriage with him.

But is she even making an effort to achieve that?

He said he waited for her and now he’s touching her hair. Isn’t this how acting coy is done? Was this woman really daft that she can’t recognize that he’s willing to give her a chance?

For that damnable maid, she even came to him dressed in clothes as thin as butterfly wings.

Maybe she must be feeling a false sense of overconfidence. He did have a history of kneeling in front of her before, so she must have thought that she could easily subdue him again this time.

He pulled Deatrice’s wrist.

It wasn’t in his temper to be angry at this situation. Instead, he appeared more enigmatic and pulled at her like a snake. In an instant, he was on top of her and smiled as he saw her pinned underneath him.

Whenever he succeeded in doing something without her noticing, a cheerful mood took over Lucius’ heart, and seeing her embarrassed face looking like a red flower made his grin even wider.

He looked at her, “Do you want to do it with me?”

…