Chapter 90 The Most Unfortunate Joke
That day, Julian was done with propriety. After being kicked out of the Mercer estate, he rode hard toward the Varannes residence. His appearance? A disaster. His hair was a mess, his uniform wrinkled. He didn't want tea. He didn't want small talk. He needed answers.
Much like at the Mercer estate, Julian fixed the Varannes servant with a cold stare before ordering him to summon the young lady of the house immediately.
'Tell her that Young Master Vance is waiting,' he commanded. 'It is a matter of great importance.'
The moment Ilse appeared, Julian dragged her into a quiet corner of the room.
"What happened?" Julian's voice was low, demanding. "The letters stopped. Her father is locking up Gisella. Did you get caught?"
Ilse sighed, her shoulders slumping. She was beyond exhausted. She told him everything, the bookstore ambush, the interrogation in the carriage, right down to the most insane part of it all.
"Claus knows I frequent the harbor," Ilse said flatly. "He threatened me. I was cornered. So..." She looked down, her voice barely a whisper. "I told him I liked him. I told him I was asking you for research on how to get close to him."
Silence.
Julian stared at her with a blank expression. Then, slowly, his shoulders began to shake. He covered his mouth, but it was futile. The laughter exploded. Julian, the usually rigid, prideful Viscount, was now laughing like a madman. It echoed throughout the entire parlor.
"You... you told him you liked him?" Julian laughed again, until tears welled in his eyes. "That's the dumbest strategy I've ever heard. Are you comparing me to Claus? Who taught you how to lie?!"
"This isn't funny," Ilse hissed, her face burning.
But Julian couldn't stop. The situation was too absurd. He laughed until he was doubled over, clutching his stomach.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps. Ilse turned. Her mother and father stood at the threshold, eyes wide. The scene was unmistakable: a respected Viscount laughing uncontrollably with their daughter in the corner of the room, looking remarkably familiar, perhaps even intimate.
Ilse's father froze. His eyes swept over Julian, click. His brain went to work. He looked at Julian Vance. Rich. Powerful. The only child and sole heir to the House of Vance. And now, laughing with his daughter? He drew a swift conclusion, Ilse wasn't a burden. Ilse was an asset.
"Mr Vance?" Ilse's father approached. His smile was forced but welcoming. "An honor. I wasn't aware you were visiting."
Ilse's mother followed, eyeing Julian, then shifting her gaze to Ilse with deep suspicion. She had thought her daughter would end up a boring old maid. Now? She didn't know how to react. Wasn't Ilse supposed to be linked to Duke Claus? Now Julian?
"Ah, apologies for the intrusion, sir." Julian straightened up, forcibly swallowing his laughter. He instantly reverted to the polite Viscount, as if he hadn't just been cackling like a lunatic.
Ilse's father laughed heartily. "No intrusion at all. Ilse, why didn't you tell us the Young Viscount was visiting?"
Ilse froze. She wanted to sink through the floorboards. Her father was already picturing a wedding and a rise in social status. The situation was completely out of control.
"We were just discussing business matters, Father," Ilse said, trying to neutralize the atmosphere.
Her father smiled even wider. He clapped Julian on the shoulder, acting chummy. "Business, is it? Of course. Please, sit down, Viscount. We have plenty of time."
Julian shot Ilse a look that screamed, 'save me.' Ilse could only keep her head down, bracing herself for the disaster to come.