FSRBD CH 06

Chapter 6 

The Everchen couple sent a letter right away, saying they wished to visit the Basteron townhouse.

They thought Dylan might refuse them, since Agnès had announced the marriage on her own—but to their surprise, the reply came quickly, granting permission.

Maybe we’ll actually be treated with proper respect as in-laws, Lord Everchen thought hopefully.

With that pleasant expectation, the couple left for the townhouse early the next morning.

As expected, the Basteron townhouse was magnificent—grand, refined, and far too elegant to be described merely as “wealthy.”

Even the young butler who greeted them was perfectly composed, moving with flawless etiquette. He looked like he could have come from a noble family himself.

“If you’ll wait here, Lady Agnès will be with you shortly,” the butler said politely.

In other words, they would not be meeting the Duke himself—only Agnès.

Honestly, that was a relief. Neither of them was confident enough to face a royal in person.
Still, Lord Everchen wanted to show off a bit. Straightening his back stiffly, he asked in a haughty tone:

“Is His Grace… occupied?”

“Yes.”

The curt one-word answer stung his pride. He cleared his throat awkwardly and sat down on the sofa a little too heavily.

Meanwhile, Lady Everchen’s eyes darted everywhere as they walked into the drawing room. She barely noticed her husband’s sulky expression.

“Oh my, look at that sculpture! I’ve never seen something so detailed—it’s almost transparent, like ice! What could it be made of?”

Her husband didn’t answer, pretending disinterest. He had no sense for art anyway.

Unbothered, Lady Everchen kept chattering on her own.

“You’d better talk some sense into her. What if that sly girl forgets all about us once she starts living in a place like this?”

“She won’t forget us.”

“Oh really? Then why did she steal all our maids?”

“Ahem.”

Unable to argue, Lord Everchen resorted to his usual meaningless cough.

“Let’s just wait for her. You’ll see—I’m right.”

The couple had only visited Agnès once before—back when she was married to Count Overhan. They had gone to ask her for money, which she hadn’t sent.

She had been waiting for them nervously back then, flustered and timid, unable to even look them in the eye.

They expected the same again.

But this time, Agnès did not appear for a long while.

By the time the butler refilled their teacups for the third time, their stomachs sloshed with water. Finally, a maid came in to say that Lady Agnès would arrive soon.

The couple sat up straight, lifting their chins high to appear dignified.

Then, at last, the door opened—

—and both of them froze.

Agnès stood there, elegant beyond belief.

Her silver hair gleamed softly, brushed to perfection, and every time she moved, a faint floral scent followed her.

Her dress was a gentle lavender with a subtle bluish hue, layered with delicate lace that fluttered like butterfly wings as she walked.

Every step looked like part of a graceful dance.

“What on earth…”

Lady Everchen shot to her feet, staring wide-eyed.

She had always known Agnès was pretty—she’d inherited her late mother’s looks—but in the Everchen home, the family couldn’t afford good dresses, and at Count Overhan’s mansion, she’d only worn whatever style pleased her husband.

Now, she looked entirely different.

The soft colors of the gown complemented her fair skin, and the faint sparkle of her jewels made her golden eyes shine even brighter.

Everything about her was beautiful, yet it was clear that all those fine things only highlighted her natural grace—they didn’t create it.

“Well, you really caught yourself an amazing man!”

Lady Everchen exclaimed, thinking it a compliment.

Agnès’s brows furrowed slightly, but she said nothing.
Her mother had always been crude—and never ashamed of it.

Agnès sighed quietly and walked past her to sit down.

“Aren’t you going to greet us properly?”

“Please, sit down.”

Her calm tone made Lady Everchen’s face twist in anger.

She turned to her husband and hissed,

“See? Didn’t I tell you this would happen?”

“Are you really going to act like a child in front of Father? He’s watching us, you know. Please, sit.”

“Unbelievable! How dare you speak to me like that!”

Lady Everchen gasped, clutching her chest in outrage.

Lord Everchen could only cough and fidget, thrown off by his daughter’s new attitude.
When Agnès refused to apologize, he finally gave in.

“Sit down, dear. Let’s at least hear what she has to say.”

Agnès blinked, surprised.

“What I have to say? I thought you asked to see me.”

“Agnès, what do you mean? You’re the one who should be explaining yourself!”

“There’s nothing to explain. I’ll soon be marrying the Duke of Basteron. Please prepare an appropriate dowry. Something modest but respectable will do.”

“Modest? How are we supposed to match the Duke of Basteron’s standards?”

“Oh, I don’t expect you to,” she said smoothly. “That’s why I said modest. I thought you’d be pleased about the marriage—was I wrong?”

In truth, they were pleased. They couldn’t deny that.

Lord Everchen looked uneasy, but not out of fatherly love—he was calculating how much they might gain from this connection.

Agnès smiled faintly, seeing right through them.

“If you’re happy about my marriage, then of course you’ll show it through the dowry. I’ll be sure to… appreciate the gesture accordingly.”

Her tone was polite, but her meaning was sharp.
If they wanted to benefit from her marriage, they’d better prove their sincerity with money.

The couple went silent, each mentally calculating numbers until their heads ached.

Agnès sipped her tea gracefully, watching them squirm.

Lady Everchen couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d somehow lost control of the conversation—but still, she didn’t dare raise her voice.

Just looking at Agnès’s fine clothes told her how highly the Duke must value her.

Trying to sound gentle, Lady Everchen lowered her gaze.

“All right, fine. But still, you shouldn’t have gone ahead and gotten married without your parents’ permission. And why did you take all our maids and servants with you?”

“Ah, the maids.”

Agnès smiled lightly, as if it were the smallest matter in the world.

“His Grace allowed me to bring people I was comfortable with. I’m grateful for his thoughtfulness.”

“That’s not what I meant! Those were our household staff—”

“You’re mistaken, Mother. Servants aren’t property of a family; they can choose where to work. And I happen to need staff too.”

“But you already have plenty of servants here! What are we supposed to do at the manor now?”

Lady Everchen’s voice rose higher and higher. The usually obedient daughter wasn’t backing down, and that made her furious.

Lord Everchen, as always, just sat there silently—too spineless to intervene, too lazy to care.

Agnès didn’t even feel angry anymore. Only disappointed.

“Baroness Everchen.”

“Wh-what? Baroness?”

For the first time, Agnès didn’t call her “Mother.”

Until now, she had always been polite, even deferential, to the woman who had replaced her late mother.
But not anymore.

Dylan’s words echoed in her mind:

Who is it you need to fear?

Her golden eyes gleamed coldly.

“The staffing of the Basteron household will be decided by the Basterons. It isn’t something a baroness has any right to interfere in.”

And then—her own vow:

From now on, the only people who matter are Noah and His Grace.

As she held Dylan’s hand that day, Agnès had made a silent promise.
Never again would she waste her heart on people who didn’t deserve it.