Chapter 11
“An agreement?”
“Yes. I promised to dance a second time with your son.”
Even as I said it, I was shocked myself. A second dance? With him? What on earth was I talking about?
But the Marquis of Lamian’s response veered in an unexpected direction.
“My son?”
Ironically, that question snapped me out of my confusion.
I’d met people like this before.
The shamelessness of pretending not to know what they did.
The arrogance of claiming a bastard with lowly blood wasn’t really their child.
The condescension of looking down on someone just because they’re young.
It was the same attitude I’d seen countless times from nobles during my decades as queen—pompous and unashamed.
And I realized, almost hilariously, that the Marquis I had feared so much… was no different from the rest of those political rivals I had faced for years.
The man standing before me was not Auguste de Lamian.
He was just another noble who didn’t know his place.
And with that thought, the fear that had gripped my entire body vanished.
I curled my lips into a crooked smile.
“I’m referring to Baron Hautevien. You wouldn’t dare deny he’s your son after granting him a title, would you?”
The marquis’s brows furrowed slightly. For the first time since our meeting today, all traces of smugness and confidence vanished from his face.
“Who told you that, Your Highness?”
Just as he had earlier, I replied with a brazen smile.
“I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”
This time, his agitation was visible. And it filled me with a strange sense of satisfaction. I wanted to press further—wound him just a bit more.
“Your Highness,” he said, “Baron Hautevien is too young and inexperienced. He’s not someone who can properly escort a sickly princess like yourself.”
“Well,” I said, “he’s certainly better than some old man who has a son like that.”
That’s the hit.
The impact was immediate.
For the first time, I felt a refreshing sense of liberation.
It was as if I’d gotten revenge. The sweetness of victory coursed through me like adrenaline.
“You go too far!” the marquis snapped, his face flushed red.
I gave him a mockingly innocent shrug that said, What did I do?
At last, my composure returned—finally. And surprisingly, I no longer feared him.
Watching the descendant of a former friend—one who had betrayed me—tremble like this, while I remained perfectly serene, was… exhilarating.
But he wasn’t a seasoned noble for nothing. He didn’t stay flustered for long.
After clearing his throat, he spoke again with the tone of a grandfather scolding a young child.
“Clovis isn’t suitable to escort Your Highness.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“I say this as someone who knows him well—he’s inexperienced and doesn’t even keep appointments properly. Look, quite some time has passed since you danced with His Majesty, and yet he still hasn’t even—”
“Apologies for being late.”
A youthful voice abruptly cut the marquis off.
His gaze shifted over my shoulder. And about a second later, his wrinkled face filled with horror.
“Clovis…!”
“There you are, Marquis.”
Clovis strode forward and boldly placed himself between me and the marquis.
“Her Highness has been waiting. I’m afraid this conversation will have to wait.”
Then, for all to see, he extended his hand toward me.
“Shall we, Princess?”
Without hesitation, I took his hand. I was sincerely grateful he arrived at just the perfect moment.
The marquis remained frozen in shock, unable to react, until Clovis turned, still holding my hand.
Only then did he snap out of it.
“Wait—what is the meaning of this?!”
“Marquis, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”
I turned away, smiling triumphantly like a victorious general.
Clovis, holding back a grin, escorted me with graceful flair.
The Marquis of Lamian turned red and pale in turns, then began to follow after us.
But before he could get close, Clovis pulled me straight into the center of the ballroom—where the young couples had lined up for the next dance.
Right on cue, the musicians began to play.
Couples clasped hands and spun in time with the steady rhythm.
Clovis and I were immediately surrounded by the flow of dancing bodies.
Reduced to a bystander, the marquis could do nothing but stand there, slack-jawed.
“Oh my, isn’t that the Marquis of Lamian? What’s he doing just standing there?”
The passing voices of noblewomen whispered around us.
An old man scowling at the young people dancing was bound to attract attention.
“Did Her Highness reject his dance invitation?”
“Goodness, is that why he’s fuming? The Marquis of Lamian himself?”
Clovis spun me in a full circle, grinning broadly.
Whispers flitted through the air between the beats of the music.
“How disgraceful. What’s he doing in front of the young ones dancing?”
“He was too greedy to begin with. The man has a family.”
“But who’s that handsome young man dancing with the princess?”
“No idea. I’ve never seen him befo—”
The music swelled, drowning out the rest of their gossip.
As we spun, I glanced toward the edge of the ballroom and caught a glimpse of the marquis’s dejected back as he walked away.
I smiled in quiet victory.
“Thanks… for not being late.”
Clovis beamed at me.
“No problem. Anyone who wants to dance with the princess needs to have some timing.”
Just then, the band shifted unexpectedly.
The gentle, slow tempo turned lively and elegant in an instant.
Startled, I instinctively gripped Clovis’s arm tightly.
“Wait, what…?”
Looking around, I noticed couples pressed together scandalously close.
Neither the music nor the dance style was anything I recognized.
This… this hadn’t existed 150 years ago.
Panicked, I yanked on his sleeve.
“I don’t know this dance!”
Clovis didn’t look the least bit worried.
Instead, with a confident glint in his eyes, he pulled me close.
“No need to worry. I do.”
“But…”
The music picked up for real.
It was too late to stop. Too late to turn back.
So I just followed Clovis’s lead and matched his steps as best I could.
Then, suddenly, he wrapped an arm around my waist.
I froze in place, completely caught off guard.
“Don’t just stand there—you need to keep moving.”
He spun me again, and in the process, I accidentally stepped on his foot with my heel.
“Sorry!”
“It’s fine.”
Clovis’s face remained unchanged as he continued leading.
“Don’t tense up. Social dances aren’t about perfect precision. You’re dancing with someone new—you’re not supposed to match every move.”
Then he lifted me into the air for a beat and gently brought me back down.
All around us, men were lifting their partners in the same rhythm.
“Just focus on me.”
His breath brushed against the nape of my neck.
Suddenly, a memory came back to me—from dance lessons in my previous life.
“Keep to the rhythm.”
“Your steps are too wide. Again.”
“Wrong move. Everything must be perfect.”
Every time I had to attend a ball, I was terrified of dancing incorrectly.
Every step, every breath, every expression had to be flawless.
But now, he was telling me that wasn’t important?
I looked up at Clovis while still in his arms.
His eyes sparkled like a fountain, and I followed their shimmer, letting my steps move with him.
He smiled faintly and guided me like flowing water.
When he held his breath, I held mine.
When he exhaled, I followed.
Gradually, our movements synced.
Our shared glances and breaths created their own rhythm.
Once our breathing aligned, my body moved with his as if by instinct.
Before I knew it, the music was nearing its end.
Our dance didn’t look like the other couples’—or the couple next to them.
Everyone moved to slightly different rhythms, their own variations of the steps.
And yet, no one stumbled out of place.
No one ruined the flow.
There was never a need for perfection in the first place.
The tension weighing down my heart lifted.
For the first time, I felt truly free.
For the first time, dancing felt like joy, not duty.
At last, the music ended without incident.
Clovis escorted me gallantly to the edge of the ballroom.
As I caught my breath, he smiled in satisfaction and kissed the back of my hand.
“How was that? Not bad, right?”
I could only nod quietly.
“…It was.”
Until now, dancing at banquets had always felt more like a mission than a pastime.
After every performance, I’d be more relieved it was over than anything else.
But today—for the first time—I actually thought, This is fun.
“Shall we step outside for some air in the garden?” Clovis asked cheerfully.
To be alone with a man in the garden—while it was common at balls, I’d always avoided it for fear of scandal.
But tonight… I wanted to try doing something I’d never dared before.
“Let’s.”
Clovis smiled and gently took my hand.
But before we could take more than a few steps, a large shadow loomed behind us, stopping us in our tracks.
“You’re quite the dancer,” said a deep voice.
It was Alexandre.
