The Villainess Just Wants to Study

Chapter 52 ~ Return to Faerchester

Dylan looked up at the sky that appeared abnormally dark—even for an early morning. She wasn't afraid of bad weather, but it had always made her feel restless. She flinched as thunder boomed and broke across the clouds. A storm was coming.

"You should depart, so you're not late," the Duke said, approaching her side. "Your manners will have a great effect in producing an impression to your advantage."

She glanced over at him, the corners of her mouth turning up in a perfect fake smile. It was her automatic response whenever she saw him. 

When she laid eyes on the Duke, her smile faltered, and her expression became clouded. It was quite a shock to see him so dishevelled. The Duke's hair was rumpled, and he looked tired. His eyes even looked red, as if maybe he'd missed a night's sleep. Dylan felt a twinge of guilt.

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "I understand, father."

People would be watching her—now more than ever before. After Axil's downfall, everybody's eyes were fixed on the Duchy of Beaumon.

"Be mindful of your actions," he told her, straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair. "You are my successor now."

"Yes, father." She spoke, looking away as a gust of wind blew her curls into her face. With her right hand she brushed her hair back behind her ear, revealing an earring. "You can trust me."

The Duke looked at the shimmery oval-shaped blue stone. "Is that new?"

"Oh," she said, her hand going to her left ear. "I thought the blue colour was pretty, so I bought it."

Truthfully, Yvette had sent her several pieces of jewellery. Dylan was going to wear them around Faerchester in order to promote her business.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to make some sense of her words. "You like green," he said. "It's your favourite colour, remember?"

A shadow crossed her face for a fleeting second but she quickly covered it with a smile again. "I'll order a green pair next time."

It wasn't her favourite colour. In fact, it was her least favourite colour. But she could see from the look in the Duke's eyes that it wasn't just a simple mistake. Her biological father was always a haunting shadow, following her wherever she went, staying with her wherever she stayed. Green. It was his favourite colour, not hers.

"Milady, the carriage is ready." A servant spoke as he finished combing one of the horses. "Are you ready to depart?"

"Be sure to write to me," the Duke said, offering her his hand. "Don't forget."

Avoiding his eyes, Dylan allowed him to help her into the carriage. In moments like these, he appeared almost human. He looked like a good and loving father. Dylan, however, knew that his actions were far from genuine.

She didn't want his kindness. She didn't want anything from this man. It was because she knew deep down that it was all meant for him, and not her.

The Duke tilted his head to look at her in the carriage. "I'm proud of you," he told her. "I really am, Dylan."

'Bullshit. It's all bullshit.'

He placed his hands against the door and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. Dylan clenched her fists within the skirt of her dress as his lips touched her skin. She wanted to push him away.

"Thank you," she mumbled, bowing her head. "I'll write to you."

He closed the carriage door, and Dylan held her breath as the carriage lurched forward. She didn't know who she despised more, her biological father for having an affair and hushing it up, or herself for being born from it.