Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble!-Chapter 64: In Honour Of Lady Florence

Hours had passed since the fevered moments of passion, and now the grand banquet hall lay in quiet stillness under the soft glow of the setting sun. The space, once alive with fervent energy, had transformed into a serene haven where exhaustion mingled with deep contentment.

Across the hall, plush sofas were scattered about like islands of comfort. On each one, the maids slept peacefully, their bodies curled under delicate blankets.

Their faces bore the unmistakable marks of satisfaction—a gentle, almost dreamlike smile that spoke of a night filled with pleasures too profound to forget. In the quiet, every slow rise and fall of their chests whispered of intimate memories and unspoken ecstasy.

But the truth was that the maids never consciously chose the sofas, as the exhaustion had quite literally overtaken them.

One by one, they had actually simply dropped to the floor, their energy spent from the night’s tumultuous events. The polished marble was cool against their skin as they dozed off in small clusters, breathing softly in a shared post-passion haze.

It was Cassius who noticed them scattered about the floor and felt a tinge of sympathy, so he helped them all. One by one, with a gentleness that contrasted his earlier vigor, he lifted them—light in his arms—and carried them to the nearest sofas or cushions, arranging them carefully so no one would accidentally roll off.

He draped blankets over each, tucking them in as though they were cherished friends rather than mere servants. A few stirred, murmuring soft, contented sounds, but none fully awoke. Their bodies were simply too spent, lulled into deep rest.

...And, where was the third son of the Holyfield estate now?

Well in the very center of the hall, he was seated in the grand chair he’d occupied earlier, his posture relaxed, yet still exuding that commanding presence.

Across his lap, the head maid sat without a stitch of clothing—her blanket apparently forgotten. The firelight and the last rays of sunset flickered over her skin, giving it a warm, honeyed glow.

Her dark hair spilled down her shoulders, free of the usual restraints she employed to maintain a strict, professional image. Absent, too, were her glasses—a small detail, yet it made her look unexpectedly vulnerable and undeniably captivating.

She attempted to fold her arms across her chest at first, more out of habit than modesty, but Cassius gently brushed her hands aside.

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"You know." He mused with a low chuckle. "I always suspected you were beautiful behind those frames. But seeing you like this..." He let the words hang in the air, deliberately savoring the moment before continuing with a teasing grin. "It’s more than I imagined."

She flushed, a subtle pink rising to her cheeks-an almost girlish reaction beneath her usually composed demeanor.

"Oh?" She answered softly, her voice a gentle mixture of amusement and lingering fatigue. "I didn’t realize my glasses were so distracting, Master."

With a slow, leisurely movement, Cassius brought one hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The head maid’s breath caught at his touch; despite everything they had shared tonight, a simple gesture of tenderness still made her heart flutter.

"They’re not distracting." He corrected, his gaze warm. "But there’s a certain mystery to you without them. A different kind of allure. Maybe it’s just...seeing you more clearly."

She laughed softly, leaning into him. The movement caused the blankets around them to shift, revealing more of the curve of her hips and thighs.

Ordinarily, she might have rushed to hide herself, but the exhaustion and the intimacy of the night had banished the usual formalities. Instead, she nestled closer, resting the side of her head against his shoulder.

"You’ve seen quite a lot of me tonight." She teased in return, trying to mask her self-consciousness.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her, a stark reminder of how alive and present he was—and how safe she felt with him, even in her complete nudity.

Cassius laughed quietly, his chest rumbling beneath her. "And I intend to see more." He replied with a gently mischievous glint in his eyes. "But for now, just let me enjoy the view."

The head maid leaned gently against Cassius’s broad chest, her bare skin tingling with the reminder of their recent intimacy. Yet beneath the lingering warmth, a quiet ache stirred in her heart—a mixture of gratitude, remorse, and a longing she’d never felt so keenly before.

Though married, she had never experienced such solace with her husband. In their younger years, he had been attentive and charming, but as time wore on, his interest waned, drifting elsewhere.

She could never pinpoint the moment he started finding any woman younger than herself more appealing, but she knew it happened nonetheless. He drifted from her bed, from her conversations, from her life.

And that slow erosion of companionship left her with only duty, routine, and a vast emptiness she had numbed herself to for so long.

Until tonight.

Cassius’s warmth and the depth of his attentions-physical and otherwise—had awakened something dormant. The gentle, contented way he held her now fueled the quiet determination in her eyes as she looked up at him, her soft hair falling away from her face.

She felt a sudden need to confess, to open herself up in a way she hadn’t dared before.

"Young Master." She began, her voice tremulous yet sincere. "I want to apologize for what I did, for what all of us did, and...for treating you with such disrespect before. I never truly meant it."

Cassius-half lost in the rhythm of her slow, steady breathing-raised an amused brow at her solemn tone. "Why bring that up now?" He asked, letting out a short scoff. "It’s natural you’d all feel that way toward a so-called wastrel master who spent his days drinking and fooling around, no?"

She shook her head immediately, the vehemence of her denial making him pause.

"No, that’s not...that’s not why things ended up the way they did." She insisted. "You have no idea how people felt—what they said. There’s no way everyone would turn on you just because of those habits. I mean..." Her voice dropped to a murmur as she averted her gaze. "...Especially since you were Lady Florence’s son."

In that moment, Cassius’s posture shifted. He wasn’t exactly tense, but a prickling alertness overtook him. Even though she was still on his lap, still nestled intimately against him, he radiated a focused energy.

"My mother?" He echoed, a note of curiosity lacing his tone. "What does my mother have to do with it?"

Realizing the gravity of what she’d blurted out, the head maid glanced away, her cheeks coloring anew. This time, it wasn’t from embarrassment at being naked in his arms, but from wrestling with something deeper—a subject that had remained, for too long, a whispered secret.

"Forgive me, Master, I...I might be overstepping." She began carefully. "But there were...rumors."

His dark gaze grew sharper, and he gently but firmly tilted her chin so he could see her face. "I’m listening." He replied, his voice quieter now. No trace of the playful banter remained; this was different, more real. "Go on. You say the disrespect wasn’t just because I was a useless heir? Then what?"

The head maid took a deep, steadying breath, gathering her thoughts before speaking. Though her body was still pressed against Cassius’s, her mind drifted back to memories that felt both distant and fresh—an emotional mixture of fondness and regret.

"When I arrived here, I was just a girl." She began, her voice soft with remembrance. "Everyone told me I was lucky to be serving in Lady Florence’s household. And they were right. Lady Florence…" She paused, as if searching for the right words to encapsulate her former mistress. "She was unlike any noble I’d ever heard of. She treated her maids like sisters—always concerned for our well-being, always ready to listen."

"We were often scolded for letting our chores fall behind because we’d get lost in conversation with her, or we’d linger too long over tea at her invitation."

Cassius’s expression softened as he listened about his mother that he had absolutely no recollection off, but seemed like a wonderful person.

"Even after Lady Florence trafically passed..." The head maid continued. "...you could feel her presence in the hallways, in the garden she loved so much, in the hearts of those she left behind."

"The other older maids—some of whom have retired by now—would speak of her grace, her beauty, her warmth. It was a comfort, especially for newcomers like me. Almost like having a guiding star whose light lingered." She gave a gentle smile as she remembered those days of the past.

She then let out a small sigh, tinged with sadness.

"That’s why when you started to slip into your…darker habits, Master—locking yourself in your chambers, drinking well into the morning—nobody truly despised you for it."

"We remembered Lady Florence’s love for you, and for us. We all thought that maybe you were simply a lost soul, numb from grief or uncertain of your path. Some called you a wastrel, yes, but not out of hatred—more out of pity...We believed if you could just find a reason to climb out of that darkness, you’d be fine."

Cassius’s flinched slightly, evidence of the guilt the previous Cassius still carried. "I was…a broken fool." He admitted softly, a hint of self-reproach coloring his tone.

She offered a small, understanding nod. "Perhaps you were." She agreed gently. "But we never turned our backs on you, not truly—not while we thought you were only hurting yourself."

Her eyes suddenly flickered with bitterness at the memory of what came next.

"That changed a couple of years ago. You probably recall, the atmosphere in the estate shifted. People became more distant, more…guarded."

Cassius nodded, recalling in his memories the subtle shift that, at the time, which the old Cassius hadn’t fully understood. "Yes. It felt like one day, everyone was just…colder."

The head maid’s voice grew quieter, heavy with regret.

"Well, at a certain point rumors started cropping up. Hideous, unsettling rumors that you had molested and even killed women, disposing of their bodies to hide the evidence. At first, most of us refused to believe it. You may have drunk away your days, but we’d never known you to be cruel."

"B-But didn’t help..." The head maid said carefully. "...It didn’t help your case when there appeared to be some proof. Stories of missing women, alleged sightings, a few suspicious accounts that placed you in places no one expected. It felt contrived, but convincing enough that the staff couldn’t ignore it."

She exhaled, struggling with her own recollection.

"Your worst vices, the alcohol and self-imposed isolation, made it harder for you to defend yourself. Everyone assumed your reclusiveness hid something darker."

Cassius stayed silent, but the gleam in his crimson eyes told that he had already figured out who was behind this.

"We tried to rationalize it." She continued. "We told ourselves: ’Lady Florence’s son could never do such things.’ But the rumors persisted, fueled by outsiders, then echoed in hushed whispers within the estate’s walls. Eventually, even those who’d once pitied you started to have doubts. And doubt can be deadly. It spreads, it festers."

"Before long, even the maids who once would’ve done anything for Lady Florence’s child found themselves…disgusted. Outraged."

She swallowed, her throat tight with emotion.

"Drunkenness and sloth? Some might forgive that. But rape, murder, cruelty? No one who cared about Lady Florence could accept that in her son. It felt like you had tarnished not just yourself, but her memory as well. We started looking at you with contempt—some in fear, others with a sense of betrayal."

"And then the rebellion in the staff began in earnest. We snubbed you behind your back, neglected your simplest requests, mocked you when you weren’t listening. Some of us went further, refusing to even speak to you, or ensuring you received subpar services. It was our way of…punishing you."

Her voice trailed off, subdued by the weight of recalling those events. The banquet hall was hushed, the shadows of early evening stretching across the floor. Outside, the wind stirred the trees, a soft counterpoint to the tension in the room.

"You see now, Young Master" she whispered, looking up at him with equal parts remorse and sincerity. "It wasn’t your drinking or your brooding that led us to despise you, Master. We never truly looked down on you for that. These rumors—these claims of brutality, they were what changed everything."

A rush of sincerity shone in her eyes as she lifted them to his. Her voice trembled with the intensity of her feelings, yet she spoke swiftly, wanting to lay everything out.

"Of course I know now those rumors aren’t true, Master. There’s no way someone as gentle and caring as you could ever do something so monstrous."

"...I…I’m sorry I lost faith in you, in Lady Florence’s son. If you wish to punish me for doubting you—"

Cassius shook his head and raised a hand to brush against her cheek, silencing her apology before it could go further. Though his touch was soft, there was a quiet authority in it.

"There’s no need for that." H said, his tone firm but calm. "You and the others weren’t at fault. You stood by me for years, or at least you never truly despised me during my…darker times. I’m the one who should thank you—for not abandoning me when you had every reason to."

A flicker of relief crossed her face, tears threatening to form at the corners of her eyes. She swallowed hard. "But…we still believed those lies, we—"

He cut her off with a soft chuckle that reverberated through the quiet hall.

"Stop apologizing." He teased gently. "You did what anyone would do when faced with horrific rumors and so-called proof. If anyone’s to blame, it’s that four-eyed fool who started all those damned lies in the first place."

The head maid’s eyes went wide at the sudden mention of a possible culprit.

"W-Wait—you know who spread them, Young Master?" A spark of shock and hope lit her features. "Then…who was it? Why would anyone—?"

A dismissive wave of his hand silenced her again.

"I’m not about to tarnish this moment by uttering that imbecile’s name." He said, his voice dropping with quiet, simmering disdain. "He’s nothing but a stain on my memory. I’ll deal with him at the appropriate time, when I need to make a statement to my father, but that’s for another time. Right now…"

He trailed off, his gaze warming as it settled on her. A tender, almost playful light danced in his eyes.

"...I’d rather focus on someone far prettier."

Before she could muster a reply, Cassius tilted his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then moved along the delicate curve of her temple, planting slow, lingering pecks across her cheeks.

Each brush of his lips sent a thrill coursing through her, and she felt her heart flutter in her chest. Despite all that had happened—her fears, confessions, and doubts—his nearness now enveloped her in a serene sense of belonging.

Poke~

As Cassius continued his trail of kisses, she felt something hard poking against her from behind.

Her cheeks flushed with realization, her mind quickly connecting the sensation to what it must be. In a fluster, she stammered. "M-Master, how can it still be so...active after everything that’s happened?"

Cassius smiled, his grin playful and knowing. "It’s only natural when I have such a tempting sight in front of me." He responded, his voice low and teasing.

And then without warning, his hands moved to her plump breasts, his fingers finding her nipples underneath the blanket . He began to play with them, gently at first, then with more intent, rolling and pinching them in a way that sent shivers of both arousal and embarrassment through her.

And just as he was about to lower his lips to claim her nipples with his warm, teasing breath, a soft rustling sound from behind broke the moment.

His eyes darted toward the source, and he saw the familiar stir of a maid—the one he’d been eagerly waiting to wake.

A resigned sigh escaped him as he realized that fate had other plans for the night.

He straightened up and gently released his hold on the head maid. In one smooth, efficient motion, he scooped her up and, with careful consideration, placed her back onto the sofa.

"I have some messy matters to tend to, right now." He murmured in a low, teasing tone, his eyes promising that their fun would resume later.

And before she could say anything in response, he pressed a lingering, warm kiss to her lips—a silent apology and promise all at once.

Left on the sofa, the head maid’s heart raced like that of a young girl experiencing a first, forbidden thrill.

As she watched him move away, she couldn’t help but marvel at the captivating aura that defined him—truly, she thought, he was Lady Florence’s son, a man of surprising tenderness and magnetic allure that couldn’t be matched by any other...