Chapter 10
Fortunately, before I could run into the Marquis of Lamian, I encountered a maid who had been looking all over for me after hearing the news, and I was safely able to return to my room.
Time was so tight that the maids neither scolded me nor asked where I had been.
I wore the pannier as they instructed, then slipped into a dress adorned with countless ribbons, and hung luxurious jeweled accessories around my neck and ears.
Since I completed most of the preparations myself without waiting for their help, the dressing was finished quickly.
“All right. Let’s go.”
The moment a maid sprayed perfume on me, I leapt from my seat. At my words, one of the older maids looked me up and down and asked with a dismayed expression,
“Your Highness, surely you’re not going to the ball like this?”
“Of course I am.”
“But still… shouldn’t you wear a wig—”
“I said earlier I wouldn’t wear that, didn’t I?”
The older maid opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. Just then, the bedroom door slammed open, and a middle-aged man burst in, panting.
“Your Highness!”
It was His Majesty’s attendant. The shy maids quickly stepped back. As I stood blinking, the attendant said in an urgent voice,
“Please, hurry to the banquet hall! His Majesty is waiting!”
Before the maids could react, I strode ahead confidently.
“Let’s go.”
As I reached the entrance of the banquet hall, loud fanfare erupted.
“Her Highness, Princess Estelle, is arriving!”
The heavy doors opened, and the dazzling chandelier lights poured down at once. At the same time, hundreds of guests turned their eyes to me.
“We greet Your Highness.”
The guests nearby bowed in greeting.
Perhaps because a high-ranking figure had suddenly appeared in the midst of their fun, the once lively mood had shifted, and their gazes weren’t exactly warm.
I smirked and walked past them.
I recalled my past life when I was sixteen—when I had barely convinced the king with endless flattery to let me attend my first ball. I had been startled by the sound of the fanfare.
Back then, this situation had felt overwhelming, and I had been terrified. But not now. After decades in court, I had grown used to these uncomfortable stares.
Ignoring the onlookers, I headed straight toward the king.
Dressed in white formal attire, Alexandre sparkled as brightly as the chandelier crystals. Even though he was nearing forty, his posture was upright, and he looked as striking as any young man in his twenties.
Many noble ladies lingered nearby, hoping for a chance to dance with the handsome king. But Alexandre, showing interest in no one, simply scanned the hall with a bored look.
As I approached, a flicker of recognition lit up his emerald-green eyes.
“Estelle.”
I greeted him with perfect royal etiquette.
“I apologize for being late, Your Majesty.”
“No need. I’m just glad you look well. When I heard you were running late, I was worried your condition had worsened.”
Alexandre smiled kindly and took my hand.
Even though the daughter who was supposed to enter with him had arrived absurdly late, there wasn’t a hint of anger or displeasure on his face.
“Come now. We have no time to lose.”
As the king pulled me to his side, an awkward silence fell. Several noblewomen who had been kneeling because of me earlier were still standing nearby.
When I glanced at them, they quickly averted their eyes.
I briefly considered tattling on them, but I gave up on the idea. Causing a scene now would only ruin the mood.
Holding my hand, Alexandre turned to the guests and announced,
“Though she is late, my daughter has arrived, and to lift the spirits, let us enjoy the music of the famed composer of late. Eat, drink, dance, and be merry. Everyone, let’s dance!”
It was the kind of speech typically made to open a ball. It was as if the festivities hadn’t truly begun until the host and his daughter had arrived.
But Alexandre’s tall figure, youthful appearance, and commanding voice alone were enough to lift the mood in the hall.
The guests responded in unison.
“Let’s all dance!”
Right on cue, the orchestra began to play an elegant tune.
Luckily, it was the overture to a famous opera I recognized. The fact that a 150-year-old piece was still being played at balls surprised me anew.
“Let’s go, Estelle.”
I followed Alexandre to the center of the hall. We stood facing each other and began dancing to the brisk tempo of the opera.
As the royal father and daughter opened the floor, other guests followed suit and began stepping to the music.
Soon, the awkward atmosphere disappeared, and the lively energy of spinning couples filled the ballroom.
I danced lightly to the familiar tune. Some steps differed from what I remembered, but I quickly adjusted my movements to follow Alexandre’s lead.
He seemed slightly surprised by my skilled footwork.
“You’ve improved a lot. It seems you won’t need etiquette lessons anymore.”
“Thank you.”
I offered a brief reply, watching his expression carefully. This was a good chance to clear up some of the questions I’d had since my conversation with Clovis.
As the music slowed, I leaned in closer and casually asked,
“Your Majesty. I noticed earlier that the Marquis of Lamian and his family weren’t present. Do you know where they are?”
“The Marquis stepped out to the balcony with his wife a little while ago. As for their daughter, she should be mingling with the other young ladies. You can look for her later.”
He made no mention of Clovis—which was natural.
Illegitimate children born out of wedlock had no claim to titles, nor were they treated as proper members of the family.
Even if such a child had been acknowledged and given a title, it was common practice to pretend there was no parent-child relationship at official events.
If I wanted real information, I had to be more direct.
“What about the Marquis’s son?”
“Son?”
Alexandre’s eyebrows shot up.
“You mean Baron Autvien?”
I gave a small nod, and Alexandre responded with a puzzled look.
“Well, I’m not sure. I heard he was arriving a bit late…”
He seemed to think for a moment, then turned to me abruptly.
“Why? Do you have business with him?”
I smiled and shook my head innocently.
“Oh, no. I was just curious. The Marquis gave him a title and brought him to the palace as an attendant, but I’ve never seen them together.”
“That’s true. Makes you wonder why he bothered giving him the barony in the first place.”
The music picked up again, and the conversation ended there.
After a few more turns, the music ended. I gave a polite nod and stepped back. A line had already formed—many eager to dance with the handsome king.
The ballroom was already filled with couples dancing. As Alexandre released my hand and looked elsewhere, several women blushed.
It was the first time I’d seen a royal-led ball in person. Normally, such events were hosted by the king’s consort or queen, who would guide the atmosphere.
But the palace currently had no mistress, and I was too young to take charge.
And a noblewoman like the Marchioness of Lamian couldn’t simply assume that role without disregarding the royal family’s authority. So the king had no choice but to step in himself.
When Alexandre drifted away, I took the opportunity to slip to the edge of the ballroom.
Where was Clovis? Had he not arrived yet?
I was just debating whether to circle the hall or search outside when suddenly, a voice pierced my ear.
“Your Highness.”
That voice alone sent a shiver down my spine.
I clenched my fists and turned my head. The last person I wanted to see was right behind me.
“…Marquis of Lamian.”
“Glad you’re not too late. You look stunning as always.”
The Marquis smiled as he approached me.
I took a deep breath and met his gaze head-on. Thankfully—or not—there wasn’t a trace of Auguste in his features.
It’s fine, it’s fine. This man isn’t Auguste. He’s not that Marquis of Lamian. He’s just someone distantly related by blood. Nothing more.
“Thank you.”
I gave a curt, formal reply and turned to leave. But before I could even take a step, his wrinkled hand reached out toward me.
I froze like a baby bird caught by a hunter.
“Where are you going? Now that the party’s in full swing, won’t you honor me with a dance?”
“Won’t you honor me with a dance?”
That same line echoed in my memory—in Auguste’s voice, layered over his distant descendant’s.
I shook my head desperately. It was a natural reaction, like someone instinctively recoiling from a blade after being stabbed.
The Marquis’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Is something wrong, Your Highness? Are you still unwell? If you’d like, I can escort you to the lounge.”
It wasn’t uncommon for a man to escort a sick lady to rest—but only partners or close protectors had the right to do so.
He wasn’t a royal relative, and he had a daughter around my age. He had no business playing that role.
“Why would I need your escort?”
“What do you mean, Your Highness? When you were unwell before, I always helped you to the lounge.”
My brow furrowed involuntarily. I was so dumbfounded that even the fear began to fade.
I didn’t know why the original Estelle had let this older nobleman take on such a role, but I certainly wouldn’t accept it.
“No, thank you. That won’t be necessary.”
“But why? Is something wrong?”
Fear was quickly turning into disgust and anger. I took a deep breath, ready to shout him away.
But unexpectedly, the words that came out of my mouth were something else entirely.
“I have an appointment.”
