~Chapter 5~
As she turned with a satisfied expression and handed the crossbow to the servant, the hawk that had delivered the pheasant proudly flew in and landed.
Right on top of Samantha’s head.
The servants watching went pale.
Samantha snorted.
“Hah! You’re getting cocky just because of your good looks?”
How dare it land on its master’s head?
In Samantha’s way, that was a compliment—she meant the hawk was majestic and impressive enough to act arrogant.
Only a few ever fully grasped Samantha’s style of praise, so there were often communication errors. But for someone like Samantha, who’d lived her entire life at the top of the food chain, it was never a problem.
Unaware that her way of speaking could be problematic, she gave the hawk a warm smile.
‘It acts just like my husband used to.’
The hawk had been one of the things her husband left behind.
Just like that man who lacked ability but always relied on his handsome face—and tried to perch above her any chance he got.
“You… Do you want me to handle you like I handled my husband? I should just smother you with affection, huh?”
The hawk, which had been acting up, shook its beak desperately.
Even that gesture reminded her of her late husband’s weak, cute excuses, and Samantha burst into laughter.
At that moment, a carrier pigeon flew toward her.
It must be a letter from her son, Merrick.
He had gone to meet Ethan—so this letter would surely say they’d met safely.
Samantha opened the letter with excitement.
“Mother, I write to you urgently. Something serious has happened. Ethan’s political fiancée secretly scoped him out first.”
…What?
The content was far beyond what she expected.
Even though she had just read it aloud, she couldn’t believe it.
She reread the letter, but the message was unchanged.
Ethan had been sampled by his future wife!
“She dared to scope him out?”
What did that even mean?
It meant the other side had tested the waters to see if he suited her taste or not!
“To Ethan? Lady Riden McCurry?”
Why, though?
Samantha couldn’t understand why the Count’s daughter would do such a thing.
Had it been before the marriage was arranged, it would make sense—naturally, one would want to evaluate their future spouse.
But Ethan and Lady McCurry were already promised to each other.
There was no turning back now.
‘Could she be thinking of backing out of the marriage if he didn’t pass her test?’
“No way. That’s ridiculous.”
Samantha waved her hand in the air in disbelief, scoffing.
The idea that she might be dumped by Lady McCurry was absurd.
Given Lady McCurry’s current circumstances, marrying into the Duke’s family was her best option.
Her parents had tragically died, so she had no guidance.
And with the McCurry family in financial decline, a huge dowry was out of the question.
If this marriage fell through, her prospects would be bleak.
‘Then why test Ethan?’
No matter how she reasoned it, Samantha couldn’t find a convincing explanation.
She comforted herself with the most reassuring answer.
“Fiancées before marriage do strange things. Must be the nerves.”
But irritation flared again.
“Still, why is she testing him? If anyone should be doing the testing, it’s me!”
Samantha gulped her tea.
“So what if she tested him? What if Ethan was too salty or too bland? Would she bring pepper next time?”
Just then, the head maid arrived to swap out the cold tea.
She had served the duchess a long time and rarely saw her get this worked up—yet here she was, slamming cold, bitter tea down her throat.
“Madam, shall I bring a cold drink instead?”
“Ah, my faithful head maid! Make it ice-cold and so sweet it melts my teeth!”
“Right away, Madam.”
As the maid turned to leave, Samantha called after her.
“Wait. Do you know anyone in the McCurry household in the capital? I want someone placed there.”
With years of service behind her, many staff had passed through the head maid’s care.
She answered calmly.
“There was someone who once worked here and is now at the Count’s household.”
“Perfect.”
After receiving Samantha’s full instructions, the maid left the hunting grounds.
Samantha raised her teacup but, seeing only tea leaves at the bottom, put it down again.
Being a political marriage, this arrangement came with many conditions on both sides.
Lady McCurry must have tested Ethan in hopes of renegotiating those terms in her favor.
“Testing, huh? Fine. Let’s see how you measure up.”
Samantha Kenwolf—who had never once lost—gleamed with fire in her eyes.
Meanwhile…
“Miss, breathe. Deep breaths.”
Dain followed Corel’s instructions and took a deep breath.
“Huuuu…”
“Longer, more relaxed.”
“Huuuuuuuuu…”
“Yes, that’s it! Good job, my lady!”
They were about to arrive at the Count’s residence, where Dain would meet many people for the first time.
Her heart had been pounding like a runaway train for a while now.
“Take off your shoes and give me your feet.”
Before she could protest, Corel had already slipped the shoes off.
“Wait—my feet might stink from wearing these all day…”
Corel gave a knowing smirk.
“Stink? Hmph.”
Her snort said, How ridiculous.
“Didn’t the Madam say it herself? All your health went into your beauty. Thanks to your concentrated beauty, not even your body emits any bad smells.”
‘That’s a mannequin, not a person… but still.’
“Thank you, Corel.”
Just as Dain was feeling grateful for Corel’s care—
“Whoa, whoa.”
The coach came to a smooth halt at the coachman’s command.
Corel helped her put her shoes back on and leaned in close.
“Miss, I say this out of concern because you’ve been acting strange lately.”
“…Okay.”
Surprised by the sudden seriousness in Corel’s tone, Dain nodded.
“You remember the engagement with the Duke’s family is a secret, right?”
Political marriages happen when both sides have something to gain.
If news got out that a ducal family was entering a political marriage with a declining count’s house, people would dig for reasons.
Worse, rumors about the Kenwolf family’s curse could spread.
So only immediate family and a few trusted others knew about the arrangement.
“Of course I remember. It’s my marriage, after all.”
Maybe that was it.
Relieved, Dain let out a small breath.
Probably only the butler and nanny at the estate knew.
“You always used to say, ‘Are you crazy?!’ but now you’re always saying thank you. I was worried you were sick.”
Corel grinned and fixed Dain’s layered dress.
“Let’s go, Miss.”
So dependable.
If Dain had ever had a mom, she would’ve been like Corel.
Someone who nursed her when sick and worried preemptively about mistakes.
With strangers awaiting inside the Count’s house, Corel was her rock.
Dain gently took her hand.
“You’ll stay with me, right?”
“What are you saying? Where would I go?”
But the moment they stepped inside, Corel handed Dain off to the head butler.
Dain followed the butler.
‘He’s surprisingly young.’
He hadn’t seemed that young at first glance.
Though he styled his brown hair to look older, every servant in the mansion bowed deeply to him—and bowed even deeper once they saw Dain behind him.
That signified deep trust, even if he was young.
‘He’s the one really in charge!’
With the Count and Countess gone, the real authority lay with the butler.
The butler had gone to Lady Riden’s room and summoned Dain with a simple request to follow him.
As Dain walked past the staff who greeted her, she recalled clichés from the countless reincarnation novels she’d read.
She expected the kind of lines powerful servants used on pampered villainess types:
“What could you possibly understand, my lady?” or
“If you’ve spent all your time resting for the sake of marriage, just focus on pleasing the Duke’s family!”
Ahem.
Dain cleared her throat.
She didn’t like the saying “The louder voice wins,” but in cases like this, it was better to speak with strength than to whisper and be dismissed.
Most reincarnated villainesses shut these types down with boldness.
She rehearsed lines in her head:
“Who’s the master of McCurry? Me! Don’t you recognize me?”
And then she’d ask for the budget and finance ledgers of the estate.
Even if they sneered, thinking, What would you know?, Dain could grasp the gist from flipping through a few pages.
Romance-fantasy novels only ever had very basic accounting anyway.
I can do this.
As she ran simulations in her head about how to respond, the butler suddenly stopped and turned to face her.
