The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

Sylvian looked down at the precise address scrawled on the note in his hand, then looked up to compare it with the weathered nameplate mounted on the stone wall outside. Satisfied it was the right place, he reached out, grasped the iron knocker, and struck it firmly against the thick wooden door.

”Coming!” a cheerful voice chirped from somewhere deep inside the residence.

Sylvian took a polite step back as he heard the latch click and the door swing inward. The opening revealed a young lady, who stopped short upon seeing him. Her eyes instinctively swept over him from head to toe, her gaze lingering on the fine cut of his garments and his poised demeanor, quickly realizing that a gentleman of high nobility was standing on her modest threshold.

”Pardon me, but I do not believe I recognize you, my lord,” the young lady said, her voice turning curious and respectful.

”Forgive me for appearing at your door so unannounced like this,” Sylvian stated, offering her a bow. ”I am Sylvian Van Kingsley. Hudson provided me with your address,” he explained. ”I would like to speak with you regarding the painting you created.”

Iliana was utterly stunned to realize that a prince was standing right at her doorstep. Recovering her composure as quickly as she could, she stepped aside, welcoming him warmly into the house and gesturing toward the seating area. ”Your Highness, would you care for some water?” she asked, her voice laced with sudden nervousness.

”Yes, thank you. I do find myself quite thirsty,” he replied with a gracious nod.

Iliana excused herself and left the small living room, giving Sylvian a moment to look around. He studied the various pieces of art hanging low on the walls, admiring the composition and depth of each piece. It took him only a few moments to realize that the young woman possessed an extraordinary, natural talent.

”Your Highness, here is your water.” Iliana returned, carrying a modest tray with a glass of water placed upon it.

”Thank you,” Sylvian said, accepting the glass. He took a few slow, polite sips to quench his thirst before setting it down carefully on the small table before him. ”I wish to purchase the masterpiece depicting the veiled woman. I am entirely willing to pay any price you name for it,” he stated plainly.

”Thank you for showing such an interest in my work, but I must respectfully decline, Your Highness. I do not wish to sell that particular piece. It is meant to remain permanently in the gallery,” Iliana replied.

”If it is a matter of public appreciation, I intend to place it within the grand imperial library of the capital,” he answered, offering an alternative that would guarantee its preservation and visibility.

”I still cannot sell you the painting, my lord,” Iliana maintained, remaining firm in her decision.

Sylvian realized then that Hudson had been entirely correct about the young woman’s stubbornness. As a prince, he easily could have used his royal influence to command the sale, but he felt it would be dishonorable to abuse his authority and pressure a citizen in such a manner. Rising gracefully to his feet, he said, ”Then I shall not impose upon you any longer. I will be taking my leave.”

”Your Highness,” Iliana called out softly as he turned, a look of profound sorrow crossing her features. ”It is a tribute to my late elder sister. I want the world to remember her through that piece, which is why I must keep it unsold. Please forgive me for disappointing you in this manner.”

Sylvian paused, turning back to meet her earnest gaze. Hudson had never mentioned that Iliana had an older sister.

”I understand,” he answered softly, his expression softening with genuine empathy.

”I can, however, offer you anything else from my personal collection. Whatever Your Highness desires, I will gladly give to you,” Iliana asserted, eager to make amends for refusing a royal request.

Sylvian smiled faintly and let his eyes roam the room once more before gesturing toward a specific corner. ”What about that one? The piece depicting the woman sitting beneath the willow tree?” he questioned.

Iliana quickly walked over to take it off the wall, carefully wiping the edges of the canvas with a clean cloth before presenting it to the prince.

”Your Highness has a remarkably keen eye,” she remarked, watching him look closely at the details.

”Shall I tell you the meaning I perceive behind this one?” Sylvian queried, looking up from the brushwork to meet her eyes.

”Yes, please. I would love to hear your explanation,” Iliana replied, genuinely intrigued by what the prince saw in her work.

”The woman is completely awestruck by the grandeur of the tree,” Sylvian observed, tracing the lines of the canvas with his eyes. ”And that tiny tear on the corner of her eye reveals that she planted it with her own hands years ago, deeply moved by how it has transformed into such a magnificent shelter.”

”Wow! Your Highness, your explanation is completely accurate,” Iliana answered, her face lighting up with genuine astonishment. She was thoroughly stunned to find that a prince possessed such an incredibly profound understanding of art.

Driven by sudden curiosity, Iliana asked, ”If His Highness would not mind, may I ask if you paint as well?” Then, letting out a soft chuckle, she shook her head. ”Forgive me, the royals do not indulge in such pastimes. I forgot myself for a moment.”

”I love to paint. Art has always fascinated me,” he asserted, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Iliana blinked in surprise, utterly speechless for a moment.

”I am well aware that princes are not expected to spend their time mastering such skills, but I simply cannot help it. It is in my veins, I think,” Sylvian continued, looking back down at the canvas in his hands. ”Well then, for how much will you sell this piece to me?”

Iliana quickly waved her hands in the air to protest. ”Oh, no, Your Highness. I will not accept any money from you for this one.”

”That simply will not do, Lady...” Sylvian paused, a look of realization crossing his features. ”You never mentioned your name, and I completely forgot to ask Hudson before coming here.”

”Iliana Martinez, Your Highness,” she replied.