WDHMTU |CHAPTER 65

Chapter 65

 

The Guest in the Stables

 

The guest in the stables—that could only mean Petrix had come.

 

Beatrice turned to the maid waiting beyond the door.

 

“Is my father at the manor now?”

 

“No, my lady. The Marquis left this morning and hasn’t yet returned.”

 

“Good. Bring our guest inside, quietly—so no one knows.”

 

The maid, eager not to test Beatrice’s temper, moved quickly and led Petrix to her.

 

The moment Petrix saw Beatrice’s pale face, he rushed forward in alarm.

 

“Beatrice, are you all—”

 

Smack!

 

The sharp crack of a slap sent his head whipping to the side. 

 

Clutching his reddened cheek, Petrix turned back, only to see Beatrice trembling violently.

 

“I told you not to harm the Duke! Only to threaten him—never to so much as leave a scratch! Do you have any idea how precious he is? If there’s even the faintest scar left on that beautiful face, what then?!”

 

Beatrice shrieked, her deathly pale cheeks flushing red with rage.

 

Petrix licked the inside of his cheek, his fists clenching.

 

That bastard… I should have killed him outright!

 

If he had, he might have been beaten worse, and Beatrice would have collapsed—but at least it would not have been over something as small as the Duke being injured. 

 

To be treated like this for such a reason left a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

“Because of you, some ridiculous girl has attached herself to him! The Duke’s attention was supposed to be mine and mine alone!”

 

Even if Claudio despised her, in his world she had always been the only woman. 

 

But now another had caught his interest, simply because she happened to stumble across him by chance.

 

“The party he’s throwing must be just to repay a debt. I’ve heard the rumors—her family is poor, her health is frail, she couldn’t even make a proper debut. It’s not as if she truly matters—”

 

“Ha! Don’t spout nonsense!”

 

It was nothing but luck that some shabby girl had crossed paths with Claudio.

 

Once the party ends, he’ll send her away immediately.

 

Beatrice clenched her teeth. 

 

No matter how she tried to tell herself it was nothing, the jealousy gnawed at her, unbearable.

 

Just a little longer. 

 

When the time comes and I reveal everything to the Duke, he’ll see me differently. He has to.

 

What she had done for Claudio was worth more than anything else in the world.

 

***

 

When Marquis Hemes heard the news of Claudio’s return, his blood boiled.

 

That wretched girl will be trailing after him again, shameless as ever!

 

He had always liked that the King was weak—otherwise, why would the King ever listen to him at all? 

 

But there was the problem: the King did not put Hemes’s words first in every matter.

 

That cursed Duke Gloria!

 

Just thinking of Claudio set Hemes’s stomach aflame, though thoughts of his daughter burned him in an altogether different way.

 

She was so foolish.

 

He was certain the King tolerated Beatrice’s absurd antics only because he remembered the Marquis’s hand stretched out to him in a moment of weakness. Gratitude was blinding him.

 

But how long could that gratitude last?

 

People can’t be trusted. 

 

They’re never the same going in and coming out of the privy.

 

The Marquis grew restless.

 

Perhaps I should make him sign a pledge to wed Beatrice… no, not just any pledge, but one sealed with the King’s ring itself. 

 

That would make everything absolute.

 

The King’s ring bore the royal insignia, as ancient as the crown itself. 

 

Any contract bearing its seal was unbreakable so long as the kingdom endured.

 

Sixty-five years ago, a king had sealed a land sale with that very ring. 

 

He died before the contract was fulfilled, but his successor was still bound to honor it. 

 

Such was the power of the ring—it represented the royal house itself.

 

Of course, since that land dispute, no king has dared use it again.

 

Would that timid monarch ever use it now? Hardly.

 

Still grumbling, Hemes strode down the corridor—only to be blocked by a shadow.

 

“You’ll need to walk harder than that if you expect to bring the palace down,” came a leisurely, mocking voice.

 

The Marquis’s face twisted with hatred, but he forced a smile as Claudio appeared.

 

“Ah, Duke Gloria! I heard you’d been injured, yet you look well. The blessings of youth, no doubt.” He laughed heartily.

 

Claudio only regarded him with a faint smile, his sharp gaze unblinking.

 

“Wh-why do you look at me so? Is there something on my face?”

 

“No. I was simply worried you might get hurt, Marquis.”

 

What’s this? Since when does he worry about me?

 

Suspicious, Hemes narrowed his eyes. 

 

But Claudio went on smoothly.

 

“After all, if you were injured, you wouldn’t recover quickly… would you?”

 

The Marquis’s face flushed scarlet.

“Are you mocking me for my age?!”

 

“Haha, Marquis Hemes. If I wanted to call you old, I’d say it outright. Do you really think I’d mince words?”

 

Claudio’s large hand settled heavily on the Marquis’s shoulder. 

 

It was a hand hardened and calloused, not the hand of a pampered noble. 

 

Its weight was undeniable.

 

“I speak sincerely. If you were gone, who would restrain that troublesome daughter of yours?”

 

The Marquis broke into a cold sweat but forced his voice steady.

 

“No need to worry. My daughter will be queen.”

 

“Ah, is that so? Then I suppose the day I must bow to her isn’t far off. As her father, you must be proud.” Claudio lowered his head, murmuring softly from above.

 

“But the queen I serve—whether or not she is admirable—must not cause absurd troubles. Otherwise… I might feel tempted to topple her.”

 

“You—are you threatening rebellion?!” The Marquis nearly leapt.

 

Claudio only smiled faintly.

 

“Rebellion? What a terrifying word. No. I want peace. I have more than enough work already—why would I bother with upheaval? If I did not long for peace, would I even still be here?”

 

It took the Marquis several seconds to grasp his meaning.

 

He’s saying if he wanted the throne, he would have taken it already…

 

That he could speak such words in the palace itself meant he was fully confident he could still do it now.

 

Damnable man!

 

Claudio chuckled at the sight of the Marquis’s inflamed, red face.

 

“Well then, Marquis, consider my proposal and send me your answer.”

 

“Proposal? Answer?” Hemes parroted blankly.

 

“The party,” Claudio said, walking past. “You’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you?”

 

Claudio had deliberately spread word through designers and tradesmen that he would be hosting a grand party—and about the girl, Marsha. 

 

His own servants were too loyal to speak carelessly, so this had been the only way to let the rumor circulate.

 

As I thought, Hemes knows nothing at all.

 

He remembered well the Marquis’s jealous glare at him when he was a boy. 

 

The man had never been able to hide his emotions, not then, not now. 

 

If he had been involved in this business, his face would have betrayed it immediately.

 

Utter fool.

 

Left alone in the corridor, Marquis Hemes muttered a curse.

“Bastard…”

 

Every word from the Duke had been infuriating—but his last remark especially. 

 

To “consider” whether or not to invite him?

 

I am to be the Queen’s father!

 

He ground his teeth. 

 

Only if Claudio disappeared would he be able to grasp true power.

 

But if Claudio disappeared… who would hold back the western lords?

 

“Damn it!”

 

He stormed toward the King’s study, pounding footsteps echoing. 

 

When the attendant hesitated, he barked,

“What are you doing? Announce me at once!”

 

“I am sorry, my lord, but His Majesty said no one is to be admitted today.”

 

“What?!”

 

The Marquis’s one eye bulged in outrage. 

 

He glanced around, then leaned close to the servant.

 

“No one? Not even the Marquis of Hemes himself?”

 

“Forgive me, my lord. After meeting the Duke, His Majesty ordered that no one else be admitted.”

 

The Marquis’s jaw dropped. 

 

So he was barred—but Claudio had been welcomed?

 

Damn him!

 

***

 

Marsha’s mind was in a whirl.

 

The butler arrived carrying a tome as thick as a dictionary, questioning her about flowers and menus for the party. 

 

The maids brought in catalogues from famous designers.

 

“Lady Marsha of Railford?”

 

It was Urian.

 

Seeing her standing there, pale amid the flood of finery, he gave a faint, awkward smile.