Lady Felice's Secretive Lesson - Chapter 8
He raised his sharply angled eyebrows like a mountain and stared intently at Felice. Fortunately, before a sharp exchange could erupt, a maid’s knock sounded at the door.
The man composed himself and took a seat across from Felice.
A new teacup set aside for him was placed on the table, accompanied by some fresh refreshments.
The clinking of dishes briefly filled the reception room.
As the maid finished her duties and left, Felice quietly reminded herself.
The man sitting before her was worth ten thousand francs, and the talk of charity or whatnot held little significance.
Felice could easily tell small lies if it meant successfully fulfilling her clients’ romantic affairs.
Had she not just recently lied to Madam Vanessa, claiming she was no stranger to frequent romances?
Quickly wiping the frown from her face, Felice painted a smile, matching the calmness of the man opposite her.
“Your Highness, have you heard of me before?”
In a soft, almost comforting tone, Felice addressed the man with the ten thousand francs before her.
After taking a sip of tea, the man raised one eyebrow.
“So you’re going to be shameless about this?”
“All we have between us is that bouquet of flowers. I’m here to work, so I intend to keep things strictly professional.”
“Is that so? Very well, Miss Felice. Then I shall be professional as well.”
He rang a bell on the table.
A maid waiting outside entered, handed several documents to the man, and left.
“I hear you’re known more as a relationship coach than a mere tutor. Your employer, Her Majesty, sent you here relying on that reputation. Is that correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“I understand you recently worked for Duke Vanessa’s residence, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then there are rumors Duchess Vanessa recently took on a ‘lover.’ Is that also your ‘achievement’?”
Felice pressed her lips tightly together at the emphasized words ‘mistress’ and ‘achievement.’
It was a reproachful accusation. Yet, without hesitation, Felice stuck to her ironclad rule of keeping secrets even unto the grave.
“I’m afraid I cannot answer personal questions about the Duke’s residence.”
“Ah, personal questions, is it?”
The man sneered briefly and deliberately placed the documents on the table.
“Then I won’t ask any further. So, you’ve been hired by Her Majesty as a relationship coach to help with my love life? Whether it involves infidelity or not, you claim there’s no need for moral judgment? As long as you get paid, you’ll do anything?”
This time, his words felt like a dagger, piercing sharply at her heart. Felice almost felt her smile falter.
“I won’t go into the details of methods. As a relationship coach, I simply do my best to support any form of love.”
“It sounds like a nice cover.”
A scowl crept across the man’s face, yet his arrogant demeanor remained disturbingly relaxed.
Felice recalled the man’s fixation on infidelity and moral standards, wondering why he found her so uncomfortable.
The most likely explanation was that he already had a lover, that Her Majesty’s approval was far from guaranteed, and that this twisted his emotions.
“…Do you currently have a lover?”
Felice asked mostly to gather information, and the man’s furrowed brow deepened further.
“Hah! If I did, do you think I’d be here with you?”
“Then you should be able to uphold the morals you mentioned.”
“Of course I can, but you can’t, can you?”
“…Excuse me?”
“The title of ‘coach’ is too much for someone immoral. I believe only those who lead by moral example can truly teach others.”
It was a challenge to her very qualifications as a teacher.
Felice felt a quiet relief as she sensed the situation was leaning toward an easier resolution. She tightened her smile once more.
“Your Highness, are you doubting Her Majesty’s choice?”
“…What?”
“My employer is the Queen. To doubt my qualifications is to doubt the Queen who hired me.”
No matter how famous she was as a relationship coach, Felice was still a tutor dealing mostly with adolescent boys and girls.
She had endured countless noble children yelling at her in refusal, even falsely accusing her to their parents.
For that reason, Felice had once given similar words to the children she taught:
<I am the tutor your parents chose. Are you doubting their judgment?>
Now, she directed a similar reply at Claude, second prince of the Buford royal family.
Seeing his lips pressed tightly together in a grimace, Felice could immediately tell who had won this exchange.
