“Why are you out here like this? You’re the star of the night.”
“That would be Catherine.”
His icy-clear gaze was directed somewhere across the brightly lit grand garden. His expression, weary and indifferent, looked lethargic.
“In terms of buzz, I’d say you’re the one stealing the spotlight.”
Leaning lazily against the terrace railing, Mikhail lit his cigarette and flicked the still-burning match in the air.
The reddish glow flickered briefly and vanished.
“Then I guess I ought to reflect on that.”
A dull voice slipped through the fog of smoke rising like mist.
“Unbelievable.”
Mikhail scoffed and gestured to a servant through the terrace glass.
The servant approached, carefully carrying a silver tray with champagne flutes.
Mikhail, cigarette between his lips, picked up two glasses and handed one to Johann.
“To the future duchess!”
Mikhail raised his glass slightly and winked at Johann.
As always, Johann showed no reaction and turned his gaze away.
“Shouldn’t you be attending to your fiancée? People might think she’s engaged to Brother Chris instead.”
Bored, Johann cast his eyes toward the landscape bursting with spring roses and took a sip of champagne.
“Am I the only one who thinks this is suspicious?”
“If you’re that curious, why don’t you go in and ask?”
Johann, placing his half-empty glass on the railing, replied flatly. The light reflected off the crystal glass.
Sensing Johann’s indifference, Mikhail changed the subject.
“I saw the duchess. No, wait—the former Miss Blanchet. That’s right, Miss Blanchet.”
Johann, who had been staring straight ahead, finally turned to Mikhail slowly.
“She didn’t recognize me. Can you believe that?”
Mikhail clutched his chest and pretended to cry.
“Where?”
A low voice rumbled briefly.
“Dumblin Club.”
Mikhail glanced sideways at Johann.
“She and Edgar had… an interesting vibe.”
A flick of ash, not yet tapped, dropped from between his white gloves.
Johann Leopold was an inherently intimidating man, his arrogance matching the weight of his presence.
He rarely showed emotion, so when it did appear—like now—it made for an entertaining sight.
Mikhail smiled faintly.
As one of the few who knew the truth about Johann and Edgar’s relationship, these moments were a small delight.
“She even smiled. I think it was my first time seeing it. Did she smile like that around you too?”
Johann seemed about to speak but shut his lips.
She had smiled during their marriage—but not like that. The smile he’d seen in the photo had a different texture.
There was a subtle difference. Maybe it stemmed from a different emotion. Maybe it was because the man beside her was different.
“She changed her hairstyle.”
“Yeah?”
Johann replied blandly, and Mikhail’s eyes widened in shock.
“Wait. Yeah? Did you just say ‘yeah’? So you knew?”
With nothing else to say, Johann simply raised his glass.
This guy… Mikhail looked completely dumbfounded.
Why would someone so cynical know such a minor detail about his ex-wife? Mikhail was sure he wouldn’t sleep peacefully tonight unless he figured it out.
“How’d you know? Did you meet her?”
“No.”
“Then what? Don’t tell me you’re spying on her?”
Johann put down his empty glass and pressed his temple like he had a headache.
“You still have feelings for her?”
Johann tilted his head slightly and said in a smooth voice,
“Now, should I leave, or will you?”
His low tone was sweet, but the meaning was clear: Get lost.
“I’ll go. Just answer one thing. You’re not still hung up on—”
“She was worth it. That’s all.”
Johann’s sharp glare cut Mikhail off mid-sentence.
So he is hung up on her, Mikhail thought, deciding to back off.
“Anyway, when did she start playing tennis? She completely crushed Russell Junior, who’s been playing for ten years.”
Mikhail kept an eye on Johann’s reaction. As expected, Johann gave no clear expression, just drew deeply from his cigarette.
“She couldn’t have played while at the count’s house. Did you two ever play together?”
“No.”
Johann exhaled a bluish puff of smoke and gave a short denial. He didn’t know much about Olivia’s tennis skills either.
“Was she always athletic?”
The icy grey eyes narrowed. Johann crushed the end of his cigarette into the ashtray.
Come to think of it, there really wasn’t much he knew about Olivia. Her pretty face—and a body that was just as pleasing—had been satisfying enough, he supposed.
“Well, I’m putting my bet on Miss Blanchet for the upcoming tournament. Even in the club, her support’s been—oh! Oops. I should stop talking about your ex-wife, shouldn’t I?”
Excited, Mikhail suddenly plastered a gentlemanly smile on his face.
“Some people marry twice. Others never get to marry even once. Guess it’s time for me to disappear.”
“I’ve only married once.”
Johann’s expression turned blank again as he looked in the direction Mikhail was gazing.
“There’s your fiancée.”
Mikhail’s cheerful voice blended with the soft change in music spilling out onto the terrace.
At the same time, Princess Kranz stepped outside.
“You’re not mad at me, right?”
Mikhail said playfully.
“Not at all.”
The princess gave a faint smile before turning her gaze to Johann.
“If you don’t mind, we should go. My grandmother has arrived.”
Johann nodded slightly and buttoned his jacket before offering her his arm. She lightly placed her hand on it.
“See you next time.”
With a quick farewell to Mikhail, Johann turned with the princess.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Johann greeted the elderly lady politely.
Her eyes, full of pride for raising a humble country girl into a future archduchess, scanned him quickly.
As the third son of the Duke of Edinburgh and holder of the Leopold Dukedom, Johann was the perfect match for her precious granddaughter—
—except for one thing.
“You might want to get that ex-wife situation under control.”
“Grandmother.”
Irene gently called out to her grandmother.
“What? Did I say something wrong? That’s all anyone talks about at the gatherings these days. If I feel this way, how do you think she feels?”
The old woman couldn’t finish her thought.
She had raised Irene with all the love she couldn’t give her daughter, who passed too soon.
Dressed in a soft lavender evening gown, Irene looked elegant and serene.
To think that such a lovely girl would have to share gossip columns with some low-born illegitimate wretch forever—it was crushing.
She wondered if she’d lived too long.
“I apologize for the trouble I’ve caused.”
Johann’s voice was courteous, but it lacked sincerity. The old woman clicked her tongue inwardly at his arrogance.
Even stars don’t shine next to the sun. But this young duke didn’t seem like he’d bow even before a monarch.
If only he didn’t have that divorce history. What a shame.
A gold ingot doesn’t become copper because of a scratch. But a real diamond shouldn’t have flaws to begin with.
“This old woman only wants her child to be married with the world’s blessing.”
“Yes.”
Johann gave a short reply.
“She’s always been mature, even as a child. Like a little angel, never once caused trouble.”
The lady beamed with pride.
“In these corrupt times, you won’t find a more proper young lady than Irene.”
Johann felt like he was listening to the Margaret sisters again.
The name “Josephine” came to mind—another supposedly “pure” lady who only danced quadrilles.
“Grandmother.”
Princess Kranz whispered softly and gently tugged her grandmother’s arm.
“I’m not just saying this because she’s my granddaughter. Irene really is—”
There was no end to the praise. As she droned on, Johann glanced sideways at the princess.
She was the only one who could stop this—but her attention seemed elsewhere.
He followed her gaze.
Christian.
The princess was looking at the crown prince.
“Isn’t that right, dear… Irene?”
“Oh! Yes, Grandmother.”
Snapping out of it, her eyes landed on Johann’s.
It took her only seconds to change her expression, calm and composed once more.
A different woman came to mind—one who was terrible at hiding her emotions.
Olivia. She, too, had been involved with Christian.
Johann raised his wrist to check the time.
It was rude to do so in front of company, but since they had started it, he didn’t care.
He’d stood here long enough to fulfill his role as a fiancé.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, ma’am.”
He bowed politely, then gave the princess a subtle signal.
She returned the gesture with a slight nod.
Without any regret, Johann turned and walked away.
The night deepened—just unpleasant and irritating enough.
“What should we do now, Miss?”
Anne looked at Olivia with a gloomy expression. It felt like sitting on pins and needles.
A scandal at the Rose Ball, a surprise ambush from the master of the house…
And now, the birthday gift for the duke, which Anne had completely forgotten about, was a ticking time bomb dropped in their laps.
Olivia didn’t have a solution either. It just felt hopeless.
The carriage carrying the two women rattled as it departed. The large, historic Halo Department Store, the biggest in Litton, grew smaller in the distance.
“It’s going to be difficult to stop the delivery,” the Patex store clerk had said.
It was the expected answer.
The “New Watch” she had ordered three months ago from Patex was scheduled to be delivered precisely on Johann’s birthday—and it was too late to reverse it now.
And Johann’s birthday was tomorrow.
Olivia’s gaze drifted to a newspaper tucked into the carriage wall.
In the black-and-white photo, Johann and Princess Kranz, stepping out of a carriage and into the Rondon Palace ballroom, looked like the perfect couple.
A birthday present from the ex-wife, in this situation?
It couldn’t be more disastrous.
