Chapter 10
Both Liv and Bred, lost in their own thoughts, turned their heads simultaneously. They hadn’t even heard the door open, and they had no idea when the marquis had entered the studio. The marquis stood there, looking at them.
With his hands clasped behind his back, the marquis’s blue eyes glanced past Brad before settling on Liv. Seeing his face again after a few days, Liv found that it was even more handsome and elegant than she remembered. The navy frock coat, the vest underneath, and the silk shirt all suited him perfectly.
Liv, who was undressed for the work, instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. Seeing the marquis impeccably dressed made her suddenly self-conscious of her own bare skin. The sense of shame and embarrassment she had first felt when posing as a nude model resurfaced.
She had thought she could endure the session calmly since she had already bared her back to the marquis once before, and it had been fine. But now Liv realized she had overestimated herself. The reason she had managed it last time was simply because she had been too desperate to feel shame.
“Marquis, it’s truly an honor! I will make sure to create a masterpiece for you!”
The marquis, who had been staring at Liv, turned his gaze to Brad.
“If anything is lacking, tell the attendant, and it will be taken care of immediately.”
“Everything is perfect! It’s more than enough!”
The moment the marquis’s gaze left her, Liv turned her head away, almost as if fleeing. She had been sitting casually on the bed, and now she pulled the soft, white blanket over herself, carefully covering her body. The thin fabric barely concealed her skin, but it provided her with some comfort.
However, it was only temporary.
The marquis glanced at Liv, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Surely you don’t think you can call it a nude painting if you cover yourself like that?”
“Of course not! Liv, put that blanket away now!”
Brad shouted at Liv in a panic, as if she had made a grave mistake. He was likely eager to make a good impression on the marquis, but his overly forceful tone made Liv uncomfortable.
However, arguing with Brad about his tone in front of the marquis was out of the question, so Liv obediently pulled the blanket away. As she did, a low, composed voice spoke from behind her.
“Are you always this sharp during work?”
“What? Oh, no…”
“I understand that artists are often temperamental, but frankly, your tone is bothersome.”
“I-I’m sorry! I’ll be more careful!”
The marquis seemed pickier than most artists.
Listening to the conversation from behind her, Liv became convinced of this. A painter’s job was to paint well, yet here was the marquis, critiquing every little detail of the exchange between the artist and the model. It was peculiar, to say the least. Brad was probably the only painter who had to watch his tone even when speaking to his model during work.
Did the marquis request to observe just to nitpick?
‘Maybe that’s exactly it.’
Liv belatedly considered the possibility. Perhaps the marquis was displeased with her and Brad, and this was his way of punishing them. He might have taken offense at their initial dispute over the painting, as a noble like him was likely unaccustomed to being refused.
Especially someone like Dimus Dietrion.
With that thought, Liv began to worry about the entire situation. The work had been difficult from the outset, and she wondered if it could ever proceed smoothly. Maybe she should just offer to compensate him with money…
No, that wasn’t possible. No matter how much the marquis had paid for the painting, Liv couldn’t afford to repay him.
There was no way out of this. She was already in the mansion, already undressed. Her only option was to get through the work as quickly as possible. So Liv hoped that Brad would at least feel a bit of urgency. If he sensed something was amiss, perhaps he would try to finish the work faster.
Unfortunately, Brad was busy apologizing to the marquis, his tone reverent.
Liv sighed and pushed the blanket completely aside. Listening to Brad, who was so desperate to impress the marquis, made the tension that had wrapped around her neck begin to dissipate.
“It seems the model is ready.”
No, perhaps the tension hadn’t dissipated after all. At the sound of the marquis’s voice, Liv’s shoulders flinched.
“Let’s get started.”
Liv took a deep breath and silently prayed.
She hoped that the marquis would grow bored quickly of the tedious work in the studio, surrounded by nothing but the smell of paint.
The marquis had chosen a spot in the corner of the studio to sit, where a single armchair and some wine had been prepared for him. Contrary to her fears that he might harass her or click his tongue in disdain at her, the marquis quietly observed the session. Even Brad, who initially seemed overly cautious about the marquis, gradually picked up speed as he worked. Once he got started, it appeared he could focus well enough.
Unfortunately, Liv could not.
She felt his gaze too keenly on her bare skin.
Perhaps it was all in her mind. No, it was certainly just her imagination. She was aware of the marquis’s presence, which made her feel his eyes on her, even if they weren’t actually there.
Not knowing what the marquis was doing, with her back turned to him, made her even more on edge. She wished she could just forget he was there, but the faint scent of wine lingering amid the smell of paint constantly reminded her of his presence.
In truth, Liv had assumed he would only stay for about an hour.
Even an hour seemed excessive. She thought thirty minutes would be plenty to commend his patience. After all, how interesting could it be to watch a sketch in progress, with the model sitting motionless?
But to her surprise, the marquis remained even after an hour had passed.
‘But how much longer can he endure?’
Brad tended to keep working for hours once he was focused, as long as he wasn’t interrupted. If Brad managed to forget about the marquis and concentrate solely on his painting, this session could end up taking even longer than expected.
For now, the marquis seemed interested, sipping his wine as he watched. But soon enough, he would lose interest.
So Liv focused harder than ever, trying to match Brad’s instructions perfectly. She recalled the few models she had seen in paintings and mimicked them. Just as she was beginning to adjust to the unfamiliar studio environment…
Crash!
A loud noise suddenly shattered the silence. Up until that point, the only sounds had been the scratch of a pencil and the occasional breath. The sudden clamor was jarringly loud and sharp.
Liv jumped, startled, and instinctively turned toward the source of the noise. She saw a broken wine glass, shattered in pieces on the floor, with red liquid spilled all around.
“Oh my! Are you alright, Marquis?!”
Brad hastily dropped his pencil, abandoning the progress he had just made.
“Ah, my hand slipped.”
The marquis spoke with little interest. Brad, fussing over whether he was injured, rushed out of the studio to fetch a servant.
It wasn’t until she heard the studio door slam shut behind Brad that Liv snapped out of her daze and quickly wrapped herself in the blanket. She had no intention of exposing herself to any servant who might come in to clean up the spilled wine.
Liv wrapped the blanket tightly around herself and glanced toward the marquis. He was still sitting on the sofa, his long legs propped up on a stool, with a thick cigar in his hand.
He always seemed like the type who would frown at the smell of cigar smoke, someone meticulous to a fault.
Caught off guard by the unexpected sight, Liv’s eyes widened slightly.
The marquis spoke in a cold voice, “Pardon me.”
Though the words were an apology, the tone was more like an authoritative command. Liv found it overly polite for him to even use the word “pardon,” so she averted her gaze and quietly replied that it was fine. Soon, the thick scent of the cigar began to blend with the lingering wine aroma.
Liv was drawn to the scent and looked up again. The marquis, who always seemed perfectly composed, looked almost indulgent with the cigar in his mouth. He seemed lost in thought, his eyes closed, as if oblivious to her gaze.
His disregard of her presence gave Liv a strange sense of courage. For the first time, she observed him without fear or anxiety. His slightly disheveled platinum hair, his handsome nose, and his firmly closed lips looked as though they had been sculpted by a master artist.
And those long arms and legs—though his attire was rather common, on him, it looked like the finest of garments.
Liv’s gaze shifted to his hand, draped casually over the armrest. He was wearing white gloves.
‘Huh?’
Liv stared at the floor with a puzzled expression. She could still see the splattered wine stains. Liv tilted her head slightly.
The moment she felt a hint of confusion, the marquis, who had been sitting with his eyes closed, suddenly opened them.
Startled, Liv quickly looked away. She clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders, just as the studio door opened and Brad returned.
“S-Sorry, but there were no servants nearby…”
Brad stammered, bowing apologetically. The marquis, who had been watching Brad with a disinterested expression, stood up.
“Let’s end the session here.”
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