Olivier Dampierre Proposed to the Maid!

She thought he’d stop at the right place, but Olivier went all the way to the centre of the ballroom. Stopping in front of a table, he suddenly let go of her hand, pulled out a chair, and sat her down.

“This place, it’s too conspicuous…”

She had a strange premonition. Panicked, Amélie whispered in a low voice, but Olivier only gave her a faint smile.

Something was wrong. As Amélie hurried to her feet, Olivier’s expression suddenly changed and he whispered coldly.

“Amélie. Will you sit down?”

“Duke.”

Amélie looked around anxiously. Olivier seemed eager to show off Amélie in front of everyone, like an impatient person. Eventually, Amélie sat down again like someone on display, with her body tense and stiff for everyone to see.

“Duke, why are we here…?”

There was no answer. Olivier, towering over her, glared down at her, then slowly lowered himself to one knee in front of her.

“Amélie Gagnier.”

The golden hair that half-hid his forehead in the dim lighting gave him a dangerous air. Green eyes, no longer friendly, glowed coldly.

Despite the gentle smile on his face, Amélie was terrified.

His eyes, full of false kindness, were smiling at her. She couldn’t smile. Her whole body went stiff and rigid, her heart pounding like it was going to jump out of her chest.

“Amélie, marry me.”

The soft voice squeezed Amélie’s heart. At the same time, horrified screams erupted from all directions.

“Oh no!”

“What are you doing?”

Slowly, a small ring box opened in Olivier’s palm. A large sapphire ring glinted in the darkness, casting a halo of light over the maid’s face.

“D, Duke, no, you can’t do this.”

Amélie, her mind white with shock, managed to mumble through her lips. Her whole body began to tremble uncontrollably.

“This isn’t what you promised, no, please.”

It was one thing to be asked to marry in front of all these nobles, but it was quite another to be asked to marry by Olivier Dampierre. Amélie was terrified.

Even if it was fake.

She was just about to rise to her feet when Olivier grabbed her wrist. His arms around her shoulders, he whispered low in her ear.

“Two thousand francs.”

The ruthless aristocrat’s habit of unexpectedly reminding her stung Amélie. So much for his promise to be a gentleman.

“Please, sir, let me go.”

“Hold still.”

One instinctively commanding, the other instinctively obeying. The pecking order was settled in an instant. The terrified maid could resist no longer and accepted the one-sided proposal.

The moment the large sapphire ring was slid onto her finger, her eyes sunk in despair, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

Olivier looked at her face and whispered with an ambiguous smile.

“I’m sorry, Amélie.”

Amélie continued to sob. Olivier took her hand and brought it to his cheek, gently kissing her palm again and again. It was an impulsive gesture.

“I’m sorry.”

Olivier pulled the maid’s arms around her waist as she staggered back, white with exhaustion. It’s okay, it’s okay, he whispered, placing another quick kiss on her forehead, then casually took Amélie’s hand again and left the ballroom.

As if Amélie Gagnier was the only person in the world who mattered to him, as if he didn’t care about the noise of the shouting people.

* * *

In the early morning light, the ground shook with the noise of the carriages leaving the Biché mansion.

One by one, the young people, still reeling from the night’s hangover, left the party, collected like luggage by servants from each family, leaving Amélie and Olivier standing by the lakeshore of the outbuilding.

It was Olivier who spoke first, as they stood facing each other in silence.

“Miss Gagnier. As you may have guessed, this proposal has no effect…”

“I know.”

Amélie bowed her head politely. Olivier tried to look at Amélie’s face, but she couldn’t quite make out what face she was wearing.

She thought she would be relieved when it was all over.

Of course, it was easier than he thought. Katarina Biché, who was supposed to be the loudest, was already drunk and asleep, and her friends were gone, frolicking with the dancers.

There were a few journalists from various weekly newspapers who hadn’t even been invited. Recognising the familiar faces, Olivier broke away and positioned himself in plain sight of them.

There was no reason to miss a golden opportunity.

After the play, he had planned to give Amélie Gagnier a slap on the wrist, apologise for the double entendre, and tell her that this proposal was all a sham anyway, so don’t think too hard about it.

But now, more than anything else, Olivier was overwhelmed by Amélie Gagnier. It was driving him crazy.

“Um, so, I was thinking about marrying you…”

“I don’t have any intention to do that.”

“Okay.”

Olivier coughed and cleared his throat. Amélie’s silence was like a knife in his throat.

As soon as she left the party, she sat down and sobbed for a while, and when she stopped, she was a completely different person.

He wondered if she’d feel less uncomfortable if she swore at him…

Olivier glanced at Amélie. The ticklish atmosphere of the previous night was gone, and they felt overly awkward in the sunlight that shone on their naked faces.

“…You did a good job. Thank you, Amélie.”

It was all he could manage to say after a long pause. With his mouth agape, Olivier added, as if on cue.

“I’ll send a carriage later, and you can help me leave Ezon…”

“That’s fine.”

His face was cold and expressionless.

“Well, at least pay you a little more…”

“I am well paid.”

The clerical reply cut off the rest of his words like a knife. At a loss for words, Olivier glanced at Amélie.

“I’ll disappear on my own. First of all, I plan to hide in another town in Ezon, and then leave for my hometown tomorrow morning.”

Amélie Gagnier, who looked him up and down with cold eyes, had the last word.

“I don’t know what you want, but I hope you achieve it, and be well. Thank you.”

Then, without answering, she turned and walked quickly away.

“AOh…”

An embarrassed sigh escaped Olivier’s lips. This isn’t right. This isn’t right…

Something weighs on his mind. He felt pathetic, clutching his stupid wallet, unable to do anything about it.

Damn it, is this a success or a failure…

* * *

“Maxine, did you know?”

In the corner of the garden, smoking a cigarette, Lady Katarina Biche was scolding her maid.

She had been curled up in a corner, sleeping, and had just woken up. Snowballs of black make-up smeared across her face, making her look even more sinister.

“I was not aware, my lady.”

Maxine bowed politely.

“He wasn’t just fooling around, he asked her to marry him. He asked her to marry him!”

Blowing out a nervous puff of smoke, Katarina hissed.

“There’s no way that foxy bitch could have done that, unless she’s been sleeping with Duke Dampierre, and there’s no way Duke Dampierre would have proposed to the first maid he saw without going crazy!”

“I don’t know what’s going on either.”

“Don’t you know how to handle a cheap girl like her, just like your own daughter?”

With a jerk of her chin, Katarina summoned the apprentice maid standing behind her. It was one of the younger maids who had been paid by Olivier.

“You, what did the little duke say?”

“That…”

The apprentice maid fell silent as she met her mistress’s gaze. Katarina’s thunderous rebuke crashed down on the tiny head.

“Will a spanking teach you to discern who your master is? It is I, not Maxine, who you must confess to!”

Maxine’s whole body went limp.

She didn’t know what happened next, but it was clear that the Duke knew Amélie Gagnier.

And a marriage proposal.

Given the situation, she can’t help but wonder what the deal was.

It was a horrible story to imagine, but it would have been better if it had been a one-night stand, a lust that would have passed. If they had just slept in a room for one night, it would have been better. It’s a shame.

What on earth was he thinking, not an ordinary young master, but the famous Duke Olivier Dampierre, proposing in front of so many people…

“Insolent bitch.”

Katarina threw the fan she had been holding while grinding her teeth. In her heart, she wanted to slap him until she was satisfied with her anger.

“Pack up and leave. Quickly clean up whether you go to Dampierre’s house or outside. And control the reporters so they can’t come. No matter what, pretend you don’t know anything and chase them away.”

Unable to contain her anger, Katarina stomped to her feet, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes as she stomped off to the main house.

It must be my maid.

Amélie Gagnier, to be proposed to by Olivier Dampierre, the man she so desperately wanted, at the banquet I was throwing.

People will gossip about it endlessly, speculate about this and that. The small reputation that Katarina Biché had worked so hard to build up crumbled mercilessly in the face of Olivier Dampierre’s indiscreet proposal, which was made at a time and place that could not have been worse.

I hate you. I hate you. I think I’m going to die from hating you.

A pain rushed through her, like her heart was going to burst. Katarina was overcome by her own emotions and ended up sobbing like a child.

She felt like burying her face in the hem of her mother’s skirt and sobbing like a baby.