Lady Class - Chapter 41

Rackley looked in the mirror and blushed.

The glossy, bright red dress accentuated her figure. It was a dress that sensually revealed her chest, making it seem as if her nipples would pop out if she raised her arms even slightly. At least the hair cascading down one side somewhat covered her chest.

As she took a deep breath, her chest swelled even more.

“Ugh.”

“Step outside.”

Madam, who had been looking at her with pity, quickly wiped away her expression and pulled back the curtain. Bowil, who had been sitting sprawled out with his legs spread and leaning back as if he were about to lie down, straightened his posture when he saw Rackley.

Between his spread legs, the front of his trousers swelled. Even in front of Rackley, Bowil grabbed his crotch once and let go.

“Nice. You should always dress like this. I like it.”

Although she was clothed, Bowil’s glistening eyes swept over Rackley’s body as if she were naked.

There was no way she could be unaware of how Bowil was looking at her.

Bowil stepped within a foot of her and cast his gaze downward. His eyes lingered on her voluptuously raised chest and cleavage. He made no effort to hide his desire.

“We’ll go with this dress. No need to take additional measurements, right? Make a few and send them to Winner Street.”

“As always, thank you.”

“You know the corset style, right?”

“Of course. I’ll send it in the design you like.”

“Good.”

Nowhere in this exchange was Rackley’s opinion considered. No matter how much he was her fiancé, this wasn’t right.

“I don’t wear dresses like this.”

“How long are you going to stick with such old-fashioned styles? You should highlight your beautiful figure.”

“Sir Bowil Solomon!”

Bowil Solomon was arrogant and heedless of others’ words. He wrapped his arm around Rackley’s waist and led her out of the boutique. She tried to resist, but she couldn’t win against his strength.

It was the first time in her life that she had stepped out onto the street in a dress that so blatantly exposed her chest. Rackley hurriedly covered her cleavage with her hands.

“Let me go back inside and change—Sir Solomon!”

As they emerged from the boutique, Bowil pretended to be affectionate, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. His fingertips moved suggestively, sending a shiver down her spine.

Rackley felt the eyes of passersby glancing at her.

If she raised her voice here, unwanted rumors would spread by evening.

Bowil, too, seemed to care about appearances, as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I need to go to a gathering with friends. They’ve been clamoring for an introduction to my fiancée.”

“I’m not going.”

Her hands trembled as she gripped the dress. She was furious at her own powerlessness. She glared at him, but Bowil simply smiled, unfazed.

“No, you have to go. You’re my fiancée.”

A chill ran down her spine. His eyes smiled, but they were hollow inside.

It was the gaze of a man who would do anything if something displeased him.

Rackley froze.

Even as Bowil dragged her along with an arm around her shoulder, she couldn’t resist. To others, they might have looked like a loving couple, but she was stiff with fear.

She had commanded servants, engaged in tense negotiations with noblemen of Count Winner’s standing, but this was different.

Terror.

It was the kind of fear that felt like a thin blade pressing against her throat. One wrong move, and she could lose everything.

“Haa…”

Rackley bit her lip to stifle a sob.

Once they reached the place where the carriage was waiting, the fear subsided—just slightly, as thin as parchment.

Sensing Rackley had given up resistance, Bowil’s grip on her shoulder relaxed. Seizing the chance, she twisted her body to step away. But Bowil swiftly caught her wrist.

She tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong.

“Bowil Solomon, this is inappropriate. You have no right to force me.”

“My lady, we are engaged. You should be attending your future husband’s gathering and supporting him, yet you’re saying you won’t go? Does that make sense?”

“We are only engaged, not married.”

“It’s as good as the same.”

“If I have to attend a gathering as well, please ask for my opinion in advance next time. I have plans today.”

“Excuses.”

As Bowil leaned his upper body toward her, the distance between them shrank. She wanted to move away, but she couldn’t shake off the hand gripping her wrist.

“You need to understand the situation properly. If it weren’t for me, you would have been dishonorably cast out of noble society. Where do you get the nerve to act so high and mighty?”

A stream of crude insults and threats poured from Bowil’s lips.

He scorned her and rebuked her.

“Trying to act demure now is pointless. You’ve already played around with this man and that man like a harlot. You pretended to be modest, not even letting anyone touch you, but now I hear you’re already used goods. Are you even a virgin? Should I inform the Count and have him increase the dowry after confirming it before marriage?”

“You…!”

She admitted to her own mistake. She had been shaken by the shocking events that had unfolded and had momentarily indulged in a reckless escapade under the guise of a “lady’s class.”

That mistake was something she could be criticized for, but it was not for Bowil—who sought to claim her through deception—to say such things.

“Keep quiet before I reveal everything to the Count. He has high expectations after investing in the trade ship this time, and what if things go awry because of you?”

Rackley clenched her teeth and glared at Bowil.

She, always graceful and elegant, could only glare in silence at his words. Sensing victory, Bowil became like a general who had seized the upper hand.

“No one but me would accept a lowly woman like you. You should be grateful and behave properly.”

His lips moved closer to her ear. The nauseating scent of his perfume made her dizzy. The heat of his breath against her ear made her feel defiled.

In a whisper meant only for her, Bowil spoke.

“Where exactly was that villa, hmm? Who were you playing with? Should I find out?”

Rackley turned pale. The fire in her glaring eyes dimmed, and her gaze faltered toward the ground.

“Take care of your body. I have no intention of raising a child whose father I don’t even know.”

With a light tap on her cheek, Bowil stepped back. The way his fingers brushed her chin sent chills down her spine, and she twisted her head away to avoid his touch.

Knowing how much she detested him, Bowil deliberately played the role of a doting fiancé even more conspicuously.

“You don’t look well, my dear. I can’t possibly take my precious fiancée along when she’s unwell. You should return home and rest today.”

Just then, the carriage arrived.

Before boarding, Bowil didn’t forget to give one last piece of advice.

“Stop meddling in business unnecessarily. A good wife waits quietly for her husband at home. You should focus on supporting me.”

The carriage carrying Bowil left.

As if a stopped hourglass had begun to flow again, the suffocating silence that had been filled only with Bowil’s voice lifted, and the noise of people around her returned.

Her legs lost strength, and she stumbled. Her whole body trembled.

She wished she could just disappear from this place.

Passing men cast glances at her, their eyes lingering on her ample chest. Some even let out low whistles as they walked by.

But their vulgar actions never reached her.

Just as her faltering legs were about to give out, a fluttering black robe enveloped her. It covered her head, shielding her from the prying eyes around her.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her into an alley.

Recognizing the familiar scent, Rackley did not resist. Her eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Kahn.”

The man did not respond, but he held her waist even tighter.

Kahn supported the staggering Rackley and led her to a building he had secretly purchased. On the way there, she lost consciousness.

The building was a hidden place, unknown even to the Duke’s household.

Kahn laid Rackley down on the sofa.

‘Stupid woman. Why do you live so frustratingly? You used to argue with me so well, yet you couldn’t say a word to that bastard?’

Cursing inwardly, Kahn turned his gaze to the woman lying on the sofa.

Her red hair was scattered across the cushions, and the even redder dress clung sensually to her body, emphasizing her curves. His eyes kept drifting toward her chest, pressed up as if about to burst free from the tight fabric.

‘A vulgar woman. It’s no surprise she had to endure that from her fiancé.’

He tried to convince himself of this, but a suffocating frustration and irritation surged within him.

At that moment, when he saw Rackley being humiliated, he had wanted to rush out and beat Bowil Solomon to a pulp.

Watching her stand there, pale and enduring the insults as if she deserved them—accepting them like a punishment—Kahn had to clench his fists and hold himself back.

He must never interfere in her life again.

If she discovered his true identity, she might demand responsibility and force him into marriage.

Until the time came when she had to marry another man and keep their past a secret, he had to stay out of her sight.

She was shameless enough to attend “lady’s classes” even before marriage. It was only natural for her husband to demand chastity and rebuke her for her impropriety. And yet, when she had turned deathly pale and looked as if she were about to collapse, his body had moved on its own.

“Damn it.”

Kahn slammed his fist heavily onto the table.

Behind him, a soft and delicate hand slid over his shoulder and wrapped around his chest. A cascade of rich violet hair and a strong, intoxicating perfume followed.

“Hmmm, so the woman Kahn brought here is Lady Winner? Is this the one? The woman who left scratch marks on your back?”

A woman with an enchanting smile draped herself over Kahn’s shoulder, gazing at Rackley.

Kahn frowned and pushed her shoulder away.

“Melinda, why are you here?”

Melinda Hart, the city’s most sought-after singer. Every salon longed to have her perform. Whenever she took the stage, ticket scalpers raised prices twentyfold, and even then, people clamored to buy them.

She was so popular that men lined up just for a chance to kiss the top of her foot. And now, with a seductive smile, she looked at Kahn.

“I was resting. But then I heard you brought some woman into our secret hideout, so I came to scold you.”

“Let’s talk outside.”

Kahn shot a glance at Rackley before stepping out of the room. He walked into the room across the hall and opened a window. The summer heat was stifling.

Melinda followed him in, covering her mouth as she giggled.

“Oh my, Kahn. Did you move rooms because you were worried about waking Lady Winner? Oh my, I never knew you could be this gentle.”

She widened her eyes dramatically, then clapped her hands together with delight.

“I got it! The man Lady Winner met at the southern villa was you, wasn’t it? Oh my, oh my! Then does that mean the rumors about Lady Winner’s wild escapades at the villa were true?”