The Heiress' Dilemma

4 | Deranged Woman in the closet

He appeared to be conversing with someone, so there must have been another person present.

He was scowling at the floor, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. His expression reminded me of a sulking child after their mother refused to buy them a toy-only the pout was missing.

I am not the sort of person who would stoop so low as to eavesdrop, but since they were discussing Ivor, and I am the future queen of Ivor, I felt compelled to listen to their conversation. There was no other reason whatsoever.

"We can try finding another clue about her from the information we've gathered, can't we?" spoke another voice, his warm and somewhat high-pitched tone contrasting sharply with Vernon's deep and husky voice. One voice reminded me of a bright blue sky, while the other resembled a dark night.

The "her" might be his lady love, someone he wishes to reunite with after being forced to marry for the throne. But who might the "he" be? A rival in his quest for love?

"I've never visited Ivor. How am I supposed to learn about the bandits' whereabouts without consulting the officials there?" Vernon massaged his temple, and the veins in his hand bulged from the pressure he applied.

"That's the only way to approach this problem, unfortunately. And stop stressing! We'll find her."

"How can I not be stressed? My elder sister eloped with one of the bandits without telling anyone. All she left was a letter! A blasted letter! I don't even know if she's alive or..." His voice trailed off, as if it pained him to say the word.

So, it wasn't a lady love, but his sister. Oh, how pitiful.

His glare, which had been focused on the floor, rose as he looked directly at the closet where I was hiding.

"And then there's a deranged woman determined to bite my head off over some luggage, though I told her I have no information on the matter," he said. His hazel eyes seemed ready to shoot fire at anyone who dared to cross his path.

Why did the description of this "deranged woman" match me so well?

"You did rob her," his companion said.

"I was merely trying to gain the bandits' trust to gather information."

"Still, she has the right to be mad. Who was the 'deranged woman,' as you called her, in the ballroom?"

"The least attractive one in the peach gown," Vernon replied.

Yes, they were definitely talking about me.

"I'll have to disagree with you-she was the most charismatic one there," his friend retorted, and I felt like patting his shoulder in appreciation. However, Vernon did not share the sentiment, shooting an icy glare at his companion. I, on the other hand, felt like patting him on the cheek, quite harshly.

"Do not even think of associating with her, understood?" he commanded coldly.

"Aye aye, sir. Calm down, will you? I've heard that the princess of Ivor is here too; perhaps you can get some information about her."

"I would-" he stopped abruptly. When I peeked through the space, I saw him striding toward me.

Blimey! How was I supposed to escape?

Covering my face with my hands (as if that would help), I desperately scooted as far back in the closet as I could.

The door creaked open, and I froze. I might as well turn into an iceberg at this point.

Even with my face and eyes covered, I could feel his gaze piercing through me. I wished he would stop looking at me before my iceberg self melted-and not in a romantic way.