Chapter 7

There was no trace of emotion in his indifferent eyes. Liv, who was looking at him with a bewildered expression, stammered her response.

“You received the painting.”

“A painting might serve as circumstantial evidence, but it’s hardly definitive proof.”

The marquis’s rebuttal was smooth and nonchalant.

“Do you have any other means to prove your involvement?”

“Brad can testify.”

“How do I know the two of you aren’t conspiring to deceive me? I’ve heard that the model wished to keep her identity hidden.”

Who in this city would dare to deceive Marquis Dietrion?

However, such words would hardly persuade the marquis. It was clear that he knew Liv was the model but was pretending not to. Perhaps he was indirectly telling her to give up on the painting by acting oblivious.

But how could she just let it go? Evidence of her posing as a nude model was now hanging on someone else’s wall.

What if Baroness Pendence visited this place? Or if anyone else came across the painting?

She’d lose her job without even a recommendation letter, and rumors would spread that she’d worked as a nude model.

“…If you look at my back, you’ll know it’s the same person.”

A voice barely louder than a whisper escaped her trembling lips.

“Will that be enough?”

The marquis simply stared at her without answering. Liv, however, could read his unspoken permission in his silence.

***

Even though all the windows were tightly curtained, it took great courage to undress in someone else’s large and lavish reception room.

Liv cast a fleeting glance at the marquis, who sat on the sofa, resting his chin in his hand with a bored expression. She turned her back to him. Her trembling fingers fumbled several times over the buttons she had carefully fastened.

It took multiple tries, clenching and unclenching her fists, before she could properly unfasten the buttons. She felt her clothes loosen as the front opened. Since she hadn’t worn many layers, her bare skin was soon exposed to the air.

Though the reception room wasn’t particularly cold, she felt a sudden chill and involuntarily hunched her shoulders. With all the buttons undone, all that was left was to let go, and her clothes would fall away.

At least she didn’t have to undress completely. Since she was only showing her back while sitting, it should be enough just to take off her top. Taking a deep breath, Liv carefully pulled down her clothes.

No one was looking at her front, but she still felt self-conscious, crossing her arms over her chest. From behind, a detached voice called out to her.

“The pose.”

Did he want her to replicate the pose from the painting?

After a moment’s hesitation, Liv reached for her pinned-up hair. With a slight tug, her thick auburn hair loosened, cascading down her back.

She tried to recall Brad’s instructions from before. She couldn’t strike exactly the same pose since she was standing now, not sitting, but this was the best she could manage.

Apparently, it still wasn’t enough for the marquis.

“The pose is different from the painting I received.”

“That can’t be…”

Liv started to deny it but stopped abruptly. Now that she thought about it, there had been a slight difference between the painting and the one the marquis received.

Her face flushed with embarrassment, feeling as though it would burst, but Liv closed her eyes tightly and reopened them, suppressing her emotions. The embarrassment would be temporary, but if this convinced the marquis, she could endure it.

Liv rested her chin on her shoulder and turned halfway around, glancing behind her. She wondered if the marquis’s face might hold some hint of mockery, but to her surprise, he was simply staring at her with an expressionless gaze. His cold blue eyes showed no sign of emotion, as if it were hard to believe he was even looking at a woman’s naked body.

He was genuinely trying to determine if she was the model from the painting.

Once she realized this, her rising sense of shame oddly subsided. Her anxious green eyes also settled, becoming more composed. Liv stared blankly back at the marquis.

His gaze slowly traveled from her slender waist up along her back, pausing at her smooth shoulders and arms, then over her disheveled hair. His eyes glided down, following her fingers tangled in her hair, then across her calm green eyes, her straight nose, her lips, and her chin, which was partly obscured by her shoulder, before returning to her eyes.

When their eyes met, the marquis’s lips, which had been pressed into a thin line, slowly parted.

“You can put your clothes back on.”

Relieved by his words, Liv lowered her arms, but her hair tie slipped from her fingers, causing her wavy hair to spill down her back. The marquis, glancing at the fallen hair tie, stood up.

“Once you’re dressed, ring the bell on the table. A servant will escort you to my study.”

The reception room door closed behind him, and only then did Liv realize she hadn’t even been breathing properly. The air against her bare skin no longer felt cold.

***

By the time Liv left the mansion, the sun had already set.

The middle-aged man who had initially greeted Liv in the reception room introduced himself as Monte, the caretaker. Not only did he manage the building, but his duties also included overseeing all the artwork inside it.

The mansion served as Marquis Dietrion’s private gallery for his art collection. From Monte’s description, it seemed this was just one of several similar buildings, with this one being the largest. Monte conveyed the marquis’s courteous invitation, saying that guests were welcome to tour the gallery if they wished. Liv, however, politely declined and made her way out.

Part of her wished she had accepted Monte’s offer of a carriage ride. She was exhausted from her meeting with the marquis, and the thought of walking all the way home was overwhelming. But the prospect of saving money for just a bit of comfort gave her some energy. By the time she arrived home, she was utterly spent, unable even to move a finger.

Still, she had avoided the worst outcome. Liv let out a long sigh. Blinking slowly, she replayed the conversation she had had with the marquis in her mind.

“You won’t be able to bring the payment anyway.”

His voice held no hint of anger. It was dry and indifferent, which somehow made Liv feel even more chastised.

Watching the marquis ignore her entirely, Liv cautiously spoke, “If you could grant me just a little more time, I will do my utmost.”

“And how exactly would time help you come up with the money? Neither you nor the painter seems to be in a particularly good financial situation.”

Without any effort at investigation, he could easily tell just by observing their appearances.

Liv, feeling a pang of guilt, clutched her skirt. Her eyes dropped involuntarily, catching sight of her shoes, which were stained with mud and grime from the streets. She felt embarrassed even standing on the pristine carpet of his study, knowing she’d left dirty footprints behind.

“Let’s skip the futile discussion. What I want is the painting.”

“But please… that painting…”

“The solution is simple: have the painter create another one without the model’s face.”

Liv looked up in surprise. The marquis was still focused on the papers on his desk, not sparing her a glance.

“Would that suffice?”

“If you bring me another piece, I’ll return the one I have.”

Liv, who had been thinking only about gaining a bit more time and somehow scraping together the money, found herself speechless.

A different painting. If she could receive and destroy the one with her face, she wouldn’t mind exposing her back again.

“I’ll tell Brad immediately! It should be possible. I’ll have him work on it as quickly as possible…”

“There’s one condition.” The marquis interrupted Liv’s rambling, speaking slowly, “I want to observe the process.”

“Observe… the process?”

“Of course, alone.”

The process meant the actual painting of the piece. He was saying he wanted to be present while Brad painted Liv.

“Can you accept that?”

The marquis glanced up at Liv.

If she refused now, the mercy she’d just barely earned would vanish like a mirage. Liv hesitated, swallowing hard.

It was impossible to guess his intentions. Watching her hold the same pose for hours, or observing Brad as he worked surrounded by the smell of paint—it was unlikely to hold his interest for even an hour. Yet Liv couldn’t ask why he was making such a condition.

In truth, this wasn’t a situation where her opinion mattered.

Liv nodded slowly.

“Yes.”

“I’ll arrange for the studio. We’ll start next week.”

Liv was about to nod in agreement again but spoke up hastily, “Ah, but I need to discuss it with Brad.”

Even though Brad had violated the agreement, she still needed his cooperation to meet the marquis’s condition.

The marquis narrowed his eyes. Straightening his posture, he leaned slightly against the backrest, placing his gloved hand on the armrest. His fingers, covered in white gloves, tapped rhythmically on the leather.