The Duke's Imposter Sister

Chapter 18 – A Lonesome Man (2)

Gris recalled the rumours stating Vianut was a virgin and intuitively knew it was true. She didn’t feel that he knew anything about women, but he had demonstrated that he was a leader and a soldier and knew how to kill people. He was arguably more dangerous to a woman than the average man with many mistresses.

Gris stopped daydreaming and curtsied to Quentin as soon as Bellin had fixed her earring securely. Then she continued walking towards Stephan.

As she walked past her family, she could feel they were watching her every step, every move. They were all curious about how the Master of the Byrenhags would accept the sudden re-appearance of his own flesh and blood.

Conscious of the attention on Gris and her uneasiness, Stephan greeted Gris warmly. When she arrived onto the platform, he kissed her hand, only drawing more attention.

“Yuliana, you look magnificent today,” he said in a loud voice, as if announcing it to everyone in the room.

“Your grandmother will be here at any moment. Why don’t you sit down and wait for her?”

Gris’s eyes followed his arm and looked at the table, opposite the platform. There were four golden chairs, side by side, at the far end of the table. Vianut sat in the second chair to the left.

Gris wanted to sit furthest away from Vianut. She didn’t want him to examine her eyes again nor did she want to rouse his attention.

Just then, she felt his blue eyes locked on hers again. He was studying her face and took in her subtle makeup, the dark eyeshadow making her eyes stand out and her red flower-blossom-dyed lips.

Nervous, uncertain and scared, Gris delicately smoothed her dress and sat down. Her heart was racing; she wasn’t sure what to do next.

But she knew exactly what Vianut was doing. He wanted to determine if this grown woman sitting some seats beside him was the sister whom he last saw when they were young children. She felt his eyes move from the mole on her right cheek to her bare collarbone.

She knew that if she sat next to him, he would only find more evidence that she wasn’t his sister. Now distraught, Gris forced herself to meet his gaze.

His eyes were a deep blue, paler around the edge of the pupil, and mesmerizing. But it was strange that he appeared almost… lonesome even though everyone had come to celebrate his victory and safe return.

She looked at his eyes again and knew that if she had met him before her father rejected the Byrenhag family’s proposal for marriage, she would have pleaded with her father to accept him as her husband.

She wondered how her life would have been different but she didn’t dare pursue those thoughts. That would be futile and would only make her feel desperate about the situation in which she found herself now.

Gris wanted to hold his gaze until he looked away, refusing to submit to her uneasiness. But instead, he whispered,

“…Yuliana.”

It was a deep baritone. Not realizing he was speaking to her at first, Gris only answered a moment too late, her chest constricting. “…Yes, brother?”

He glanced at the chair and said, “Sit here.”

His voice left no room for disobedience, and she had no reason to, lest she induce suspicion from the patrons around. Worse, him. Therefore, with heavy steps she made her way towards the empty chair beside him.

At that moment, Paola entered the room, wearing an understated black silk dress and a beautiful red shawl draped over her right shoulder. Everyone immediately rose to greet the matriarch. Acknowledging her family with a nod, Paola sat in the first golden chair, next to Vianut.

When Stephan sat down in the last golden chair on the other side of Gris, the banquet officially began. Although it was a small party with only fifteen guests, the banquet hall was soon filled with chatter and laughter.

Gris felt uncomfortable throughout the dinner. Although Vianut made polite conversation with her, he mostly spoke with his grandmother. The only thing she remembered during the whole party was Vianut’s long elegant fingers and his handsome legs that stretched out underneath the table.

After the main dinner had been served, Paola, clearly enjoying herself, offered a toast to Vianut and asked how he felt about coming back from the battlefield.

Everyone stopped speaking and turned toward Vianut. Then, Sir Byrenhag stood up with a glass of wine to toast his grandmother and looked around the room.

“I am glad to be here tonight with my family. I hope to stand, here again, alive, at the next party,” he said with a slight grin on his face.

Everyone burst into laughter as they heard his short speech, slightly tongue in cheek.

One person, however, refused to smile. That was Stephan, who had been quietly content during most of the evening, but now seemed unhappy that his grandmother had not included him in the toast.

Gris stopped looking at him when the gift ceremony was announced. This was an old Bryenhag tradition that passed on gifts received by the family that weren’t needed or being used in the mansion to guests. These included small items such as a non-parchment paper notebook, gloves and perfume.

Then, the local magistrate who had been conducting the event brought out a gift from the King of Nordvaltz.