~Chapter 64~
At that moment—
Gwenndolyn touched her face in the mirror.
“Ugh, this is so annoying.”
Ever since that humiliating day at Enshuber Salon, she’d been stress-eating and skipping her beauty routine, and now it was showing on her face.
She poked the new pimple on her nose. Of course, it was right in the center and hard to miss.
It was all Anais’s fault for not knowing her place. She didn’t even respect her elders and just talked back.
Gwenndolyn pouted.
She couldn’t forget the way Anais had stood up to her so confidently.
“Who does she think she is, saying she’ll ask Baldwin directly…?”
Just because she married Baldwin, Anais thought she was everything. Gwenndolyn bit her lip hard.
“Baldwin would never even look at a woman like that.”
Whenever Gwenndolyn tried to visit Baldwin, she could only see him about three out of ten times.
She always thought he only met her because she was Gwenndolyn. Any other woman would have been turned away.
Anais didn’t know anything since she’d just gotten married. Sooner or later, she’d realize how uncertain her position really was.
“Just because you’ve slept together doesn’t mean you’ve won.”
Besides, Baldwin couldn’t have children. Maybe the first time was fun for him. Maybe even the second time, too.
But what about the third? And after that?
Would he really enjoy being with the same woman all the time, with nothing to show for it? Of course, he’d start looking for other women.
In noble families, the only way to survive was to be “the mother of the heir.” That was the rule of all great houses.
Gwenndolyn was just taking a long route to prepare for that.
A child was a woman’s shield.
“She knows nothing!”
Even the Marquis of Horace had many mistresses. Her mother hated them but had to accept it.
It wasn’t allowed to fight openly with mistresses—society wouldn’t forgive that.
One of the mistresses even had a child—a son. For the Marquis, who desperately wanted a son, this was great news.
He was the only son of Horace.
For years, the marchioness swallowed all her anger and taught Gwenndolyn a single lesson:
‘When you get married, have a son. That’s what matters. Especially for your future.’
Sometimes Gwenndolyn thought this old-fashioned, but she had to admit it was true.
Gwenndolyn was a child of the Horace family.
Children learned by watching their parents.
Even if she hated seeing that illegitimate son act so important, she ignored it. After all, Gwenndolyn would leave this family one day. All she needed was her dowry.
But the real problem wasn’t Horace—it was Anais.
“How should I teach her a lesson?”
‘I’ll ask Baldwin directly.’
The more she thought about Anais’s words, the angrier she became. There must be a better way to embarrass her.
She remembered she hadn’t set the date for this week’s lesson.
“Lesson… a lesson.”
The Madame at Enshuber Salon had been useless.
Anais, strong as she was, had tried on all those dresses and still left looking fine.
She was stubborn like a maid who only does manual labor.
Gwenndolyn tapped her lips.
“What if she’s embarrassed in front of everyone?”
No matter how thick-skinned, anyone would be hurt. That was the only way to teach her a lesson.
She wanted to make sure Anais never dared mention Baldwin again.
She decided to write letters to her friends and call a gathering, inviting Anais as well. There was a reading club tomorrow.
It was a perfect chance to embarrass Anais.
Tomorrow’s reading would feature the poet Kaelersk, who lived when the Empire still used the ancient language.
All the poems were in the ancient tongue, which only high nobles learned. Important records and genealogy books were sometimes written in it.
After the language faded, high nobles treated it like their own secret code.
Anais couldn’t possibly know it.
And if she only found out about the topic today?
“She won’t have time to prepare.”
The reading would be attended by Countess Rainglass, a legendary matron famous for teaching manners to young noblewomen.
‘With someone as strict as Countess Rainglass, there’s no way Anais will pass her standards.’
Order at a reading was important. If the best reader went first, and Anais had to go after her, she’d look even worse.
And, of course, Gwenndolyn would be the star reader.
Feeling confident, Gwenndolyn started writing invitations to her friends, Anais, Lady Crenbel, and the dowager.
She couldn’t wait for tomorrow’s reading.
* **
At that same time—
An uninvited guest arrived at the Marquis of Horace’s house.
He was a city guard in charge of the area and, these days, someone the Marquis was working hard to impress.
“Sir Clarke! You’ve come to see me on a Monday morning. Ah, is this about the favor I asked for?”
Clarke stared awkwardly at the tea in his cup.
‘If I drink that, I’ll probably get an upset stomach.’
Clarke turned to the marquis.
“Ahem. Yes, I came because of that matter.”
It was warm, but he felt a chill.
He gripped his coat and hat tightly in his lap, ready to run if needed.
“Well, tell me.”
The marquis leaned forward.
“Of course you handled it. Didn’t you?”
Clarke took a deep breath. Better to just say it and get it over with.
“Unfortunately, I didn’t, Marquis.”
“…What?”
The marquis blinked, shocked. He rubbed his ears, not believing what he’d heard.
“I must’ve misheard you.”
“Ahem! It’s true! The Count of Benevin refused to settle.”
“Why? I thought they were about to agree!”
Clarke still had more bad news to deliver.
He cleared his throat again.
“And I’ve received orders from above. Your son’s case is to be thoroughly investigated.”
“Are they crazy? Who reported this? Who hates me so much?”
“I… don’t know either.”
Clarke wondered about that himself. The chief of police had summoned him to the capital.
He could never forget that day.
‘What exactly have you been up to?’
‘Sir? I don’t understand…’
‘Why are people from the Duke Constantine’s house sending word about you—especially mentioning you by name!’
‘I don’t understand what you mean.’
‘They think you’re doing something shady!’
Clarke still didn’t understand. Why was Constantine involved?
But one thing was clear: they didn’t want the marquis to get away without punishment.
The police chief was now all about justice and law. It was as if he wanted Baldwin to see it.
Maybe the marquis’s illegitimate son had hurt Constantine somehow.
Even the capital couldn’t ignore the Duke’s influence, leaving Clarke stuck in the middle.
The marquis, breathing hard, asked,
“Surely the order didn’t come from the top?”
“Sorry?”
“His Majesty the Emperor!”
“No, it didn’t.”
A look of hope crossed the marquis’s face.
“Then who?”
“…It’s rumored the duke’s secretary met with the Minister of Justice.”
Clarke sent his message as gently as he could. The marquis’s eyes flashed in understanding.
“Why would he do that?!”
Indeed, why make things so complicated? Clarke swallowed what he wanted to say, secretly hoping all the marquis’s anger would go straight to the Constantine family.
