-CHAPTER 16-
Félix staved off seeing the so-called 'important guest' by some thirty minutes or more. During which time, he had the butler call his wardrobe consultant over — because if this guest were indeed someone important, they would have to wait until he wasn't draped in an overflowing housecoat better suited for intimate company.
Bach returned in just under ten minutes, accompanied by a large man whose face was enshrouded in an unhealthy amount of beard, covering about two-thirds of it. In recent times, Félix had occasionally wondered how he happened to stay bald with that much hair on his face.
The butler was the first to enter. Stepping aside, he made room for the old Benoît, who followed with his train of maidens behind him. Each girl held various pieces of what might become the Duke's outfit, the fabric blanketing her outstretched arms. Bach shut the door behind them.
Without missing a beat, Benoît got to work, and Coralie, sitting cross-legged on the bed, casually excused herself with the unthinking grace of someone long used to being made way for. She rose and crossed the floor toward where the Duke stood, planting herself within breathing distance of him.
"Who do you think they are?" she whispered, her peach voice easing delicately into his ear.
Félix inhaled her essence helplessly, feeling her closeness playfully tease his senses in a way that reminded him of someone else—not the woman standing next to him. Reliving how Estella had slipped gingerly into the curve of his embrace, her body dancing under his as his mouth made passionate love to hers in the prying moonlight sent a rush of heat down his thighs.
Unthinkingly, his hand jerked up to his face, and he dazedly recreated the moment, his thumb absently brushing his lips. Estella was all he could see in that instant.
Why had he kissed her that night? Félix found himself contemplating deeply. Whether he knew she was Coralie or not didn't seem to matter. In the six months he'd been engaged to the princess, they had never shared a kiss. Nor had he once been tempted to seek out affection elsewhere.
What, then, had prompted him to kiss her back there? He couldn't wholly deny that he had noticed how she smelled—like a delicate flower, not of the usual kind, but something rarer, like a white lotus sprouting from the rock of a mountain. There had been something both fragile and complex about her scent. But in that moment, he'd dismissed it, thinking he was confused, only wanting to talk things through, assuming she was Coralie and believing the kiss was the only way to appease her.
Was that really the reason? Was that why, even with the highly sought-after and sole princess of England standing beside him—making several bold attempts to seduce him—he couldn't stop thinking about Estella?
"Your Grace," Coralie said suddenly, continuing only after she'd grabbed his attention. "Are you even listening to me?"
"I was not," Félix replied truthfully, burying the mounting guilt of disrespecting her with his thoughts just now. "Repeat what you just said."
Coralie scoffed and turned away from him to observe the workers in his room instead, but Félix didn't bother to patronize her. After about a minute, though, she proceeded to say:
"I said, whoever they are—dignitary or not—has no right to be up here this early and bothering your peace."
Félix smiled a knowing smile that seemed to suggest she had likely done the same thing that morning. But let her think whatever she liked. It wasn't his place to convince her to think otherwise. More so, he had far greater things occupying his mind. Things that neither fine silk nor a princess's perfume could hope to displace.
"I think this one would go best, Your Grace," Benoît said finally, straightening from bending over to put the outfit pieces in order since stepping inside the room. "Given that we don't want them to think you've put in extra effort to honour their timely visit and that you also have to show how their unwarranted presence may have likely affected your sleep, I think this choice would pass the message across. Clearly, too."
He held up a rich, deep emerald green that would complement the Duke's slightly tan complexion and command a specific kind of respect without seeming too eager to please. The fabric's make wasn't too flashy either, but it had just the right vibe to assert full dominance.
Félix sized up the fabric in the man's hands and felt no resentment over his choice. He seemed to have put a lot of thought into it, and that was all that mattered. Also, there was no taking away the part where Benoît had worked in service to his late father for more than fifty years. With the former Duke passing only three years ago, the baton of dukeship had thus fallen into Félix's lap, and he had allowed Benoît to stay on and work under him, seeing as he was the best on the job.
"I don't like that the uninvited guest is getting this much consideration from you!" Coralie shouted from behind him as he put on his outer coat, with Benoît and the butler helping him into it.
"You should not have to bend your power for just anyone, no matter who they are, you see," she scoffed.
Félix heard Coralie, but he did not share the same conviction. In his books, there was a time for a peacockish show of arrogance and a time to mellow down on it. It wasn't that there was any particular reason he was thinking so just then; it simply felt right to do less than he normally would.
"Princess, you can have Bach show you to the library, where you will find the most recent collection of fantasy books. I learned a while ago from your father how much you like your books," Félix said. Though he didn't have eyes at the back of his head, he could feel her smiling happily behind him. Fairytale books were a staunch weakness for her. In preparation for when they got married toward the year's end, he had sent for the best bookseller around to stock up half of each shelf with books that would keep her entertained should he need to travel somewhere—which was almost always certain.
"That is beyond thoughtful; love!" Coralie shrieked excitedly, but holding her place, she added, "I would accompany you down to meet with whoever the strange guest is. When we return, I would then have my fill of whichever book I lay my hands on first."
His nose scrunched up, his face screwing up tight. He did not like that. Not one bit. Was she planning to stay in for the rest of the day? Had her unplanned visit held a bigger motive than he had previously conceived?
He instantly turned on his heels, locking glances with the princess. Feeling the growl of authority rising in his chest, a muscle on each jaw ticking, he commanded everyone else in the room, "Leave us."