The misunderstanding all began yesterday afternoon.
Before Pricia could even finish eating the brownie, the loyal knights of Cromford had returned to the ducal residence and reported everything that had happened.
“You’re saying she handed this over and told you to pretend it never happened?”
“Yes. I glanced at the letter briefly, then sealed it back in the envelope and returned it.”
At the messenger’s report, Jade pressed his hand against the back of his neck.
The proposal letter had clearly been written by Wilfred himself.
Even in a rushed situation, this was a proposal to welcome the future mistress of Cromford—he had composed it with care, carefully choosing each word in a sincere tone.
“I hope this letter finds you in good health.
As a noble responsible for the prosperity and peace of the Empire, I believe marriage should be approached with utmost care. After much consideration, I found your character and virtues to be most commendable.
Thus, I humbly extend this proposal on behalf of the Cromford name.
I am prepared to pay the appropriate price to fulfill my duty as a noble and uphold the honor of both my family and this nation…”
Wilfred’s already terrible handwriting was further worsened by the use of archaic language he rarely employed. By the end, his scrawl was so wild that even someone used to cursive would struggle to decipher it.
“So she didn’t reject it because she couldn’t read it?”
“If that were the case, she would’ve said so. She clearly read enough of it to refuse.”
Wilfred stared at the box in front of him as the two knights bowed their heads.
“What’s this?”
“She said it was a thank-you gift for finding her shoe.”
A strangely sweet smell wafted from the box.
“She said that in exchange for giving this, she hoped we’d forget everything we saw or heard.”
“She wants us to pretend the proposal never happened?”
Jade didn’t know the full story, but Wilfred immediately grasped her intent.
“Open the box.”
A strong sweet aroma burst out as the lid came off, revealing jet-black pastries inside.
At first glance, they looked utterly burnt. It made Wilfred deeply curious—was she sending a message?
“What kind of metaphor is this? Did she send charcoal on purpose?”
“They don’t appear to be burnt. They seem to be chocolate pastries.”
“Pitch-black cookies, huh.”
Rejecting his offer and then sending over scorched-looking pastries—this was clearly meant to provoke.
Jade’s words didn’t even register in Wilfred’s ears.
There was no reason to retreat from a challenge.
Without hesitation, he ordered for a plate and fork.
“If she had the audacity to send this back in response to my sincerity, I might as well taste how terrible it is.”
“Your Grace, shouldn’t we at least test it for poison—!”
With a cold sneer, Wilfred took a bite—and was taken aback by the unexpected sweetness that flooded his mouth.
Though it looked like charcoal, the pastry melted on his tongue with a flavor he had never experienced before.
He’d thought it was a prank, but the moment the brownie melted away without a trace, he was left speechless.
“Are you all right?”
“You try it.”
Even Jade, initially skeptical, widened his eyes at the first bite of the sweet brownie.
Its unusual taste caught him completely off guard, and the subordinates waiting in line behind him gulped in anticipation.
“U-um, we’d like to try it too!”
Generous as ever, the Duke gladly shared the box with his men.
By the time they came to their senses, the rather large tray of brownies had vanished entirely.
“It’s sweet.”
“It’s delicious.”
Laying down his fork, Wilfred issued a command to Jade.
“I’ll visit House Deblanc personally tomorrow.”
Clearly, sending subordinates wasn’t enough to resolve this.
Wilfred had decided to make a personal appearance at the Deblanc estate.
“Prisia Deblanc greets His Grace, the Duke of Cromford.”
Standing before Wilfred Cromford himself, Prisia didn’t know what to say.
All she could do was bow her head and bite her lip.
The Duke of Cromford—said to be wealthier than even the Imperial Family, and the final villain in the original work.
Clad in a red cloak, wielding a rod instead of a sword, the tall man exuded overwhelming authority.
It didn’t seem like he was here to destroy the Deblanc estate today, but even so, Prisia hadn’t expected him to show up in person.
His furrowed brow hinted at displeasure.
“Raise your head.”
When he demanded to see her face, she had no choice but to obey.
Through the wide open door, golden sunlight poured in, making her golden hair shine even more brilliantly.
Thick brows, cold sharp eyes, a chiseled nose, and tightly sealed lips.
His appearance was dazzling, more than any description could ever do justice.
This can’t be right.
Facing a man like a lion with a golden mane, she felt like her legs might give out.
She had thought returning the proposal was enough to signal surrender, but he had come all this way just to make her submit.
“I heard you rejected my offer.”
“It was too much for me.”
“And how are you so sure?”
He insisted on an explanation despite the fact that there was no chance she could win against him.
Just what you’d expect from a villain with no blood or tears.
“I suppose I didn’t even have the right to say no.”
“At least you understand quickly.”
“Why are you going this far?”
“You looked like someone who’d be easy to sway. That makes you a perfect match for marriage.”
Her head buzzed at his words.
No way. This couldn’t be right.
She replayed the contents of the letter in her mind.
Could that word—what she had assumed meant “duel”—have actually meant…?
“Marriage?!”
Her eyes went wide, but the Duke nodded without hesitation.
“But that’s—!”
“If you’d like to propose conditions, I’ll give you time. I’m prepared to offer the best treatment to the future Duchess of Cromford.”
With her clearly bursting with objections, the Duke calmly took her hand and brought it to his lips.
“Even if we rush, it won’t be enough.”
“But I—!”
“Once you decide on your conditions, come find me anytime. Your visit will be welcome, even in the dead of night.”
Placing the returned proposal back into her hands, the Duke departed the Deblanc estate without looking back—his goal achieved.
At that same time, Lily was gathering her courage in front of the grand gates of the Cromford estate.
“I can’t do this alone. Even if I name-drop the Marquess of Napier, I’ll never get a private audience with the Duke.”
“Same here. Even if I say I’m from House Deblanc, they’ll just say, ‘And?’ and laugh.”
It was nearly impossible for just the two of them to even get past the front gate—but Lily had a secret weapon.
She had rushed things a bit, but her most reliable ally had agreed to help.
“Wow, so this is the Cromford estate?”
“Sohee! Over here!”
The excuse of wanting to broaden one’s cultural knowledge wouldn’t work for just any noble—but the foreign-born Countess of Vladov could pull it off.
The Count of Vladov, known for his shrewdness in the capital, had gladly sent a letter to the Cromford household at his beloved wife’s request.
“Countess Vladov and your companions—we’ve been expecting you.”
“Sorry for the sudden request. I thought the architectural style of the Cromford estate would be educational, and I wanted to introduce it to my family.”
“His Grace said the house should always be open for scholarly purposes. Please, this way.”
Sohee’s explanation that the estate was built in the Old Grand House style about 300 years ago gave Lily a rush of satisfaction.
Thanks to its academic value, she now had a legitimate excuse to explore the estate.
“Thanks, Sohee.”
“I am really here to study the architecture. I’ll be busy looking around, so take your time and explore wherever you like.”
Sohee took her role seriously, asking the servants various questions and carefully touring the building.
Meanwhile, Matthew, feeling awkward in the back, discreetly asked a servant about the Duke’s whereabouts.
“I have something urgent to tell His Grace. Can I see him?”
“His Grace is currently away.”
“Where did he go?”
“We cannot disclose the master’s whereabouts.”
The servants were tight-lipped and refused to reveal where the Duke had gone.
Sohee had bought them time, but with the Duke absent, Lily grew increasingly anxious.
“You’re not lying to keep us from meeting him, are you?”
“Why would we do that?”
“So you could let us meet him?”
“I never said that.”
Even trying to twist their words didn’t work on these well-trained attendants.
While Lily ground her teeth in frustration, noise suddenly erupted near the front gates.
“His Grace has returned. Would you like to greet him, Countess Vladov?”
“In that case, my friends would like to join as well.”
“But of course.”
