“I understand. Since you’re saying it like that, I’ll try to hold back, darling.”
“Dar…”
Leonard almost bit his tongue and quickly shut his mouth.
Meanwhile, Irene wiped the corner of her eye, pretending to cry, then stood up and glared sharply at the servant.
“Whether you were bribed to embarrass my fiancé on purpose, we’ll find that out soon enough. Daymond!”
“Yes, Marchioness.”
The chief butler quickly rushed over and bowed. Irene pointed at the servant with a nod.
“Lock him up in a solitary cell. And make sure he’s closely watched so he doesn’t sneak away.”
“I’ll follow your orders.”
“Ma-Marchioness! It was a mistake! Please forgive me just this once!”
But Irene didn’t show any mercy.
She helped Leonard stand, and with a frustrated look, she brushed off the wine that had soaked his formal clothes.
Then she looked around, suddenly aware of the heavy mood in the room.
“Oh my, what a mess this is. I’m sorry, everyone. You must have been surprised. As an apology, I’ll give each of you a small gift. Daymond!”
“Yes, Marchioness.”
Daymond had just returned after giving orders to the lower servants and now rushed over again without rest.
“Open the wine cellar under the main house and bring out all the wine. Wrap one bottle nicely for each guest, whichever they prefer.”
“Which cellar should I open?”
“Of course, my personal collection. I can’t give them just any wine when it’s an apology gift, can I?”
The Blair Marchioness’s wine collection?
The guests started murmuring in surprise.
“My goodness, what kind of wine could be in there?”
“Maybe even Snowle Wine from Illum?”
“I’ve heard the cactus flower wine from Parodia is famous!”
Everyone, now excited, seemed to completely forget Leonard’s soaked appearance and stared only at the banquet hall doors.
Should I laugh at them for being shallow? Or should I be impressed by how the Marchioness used one word—‘collection’—to spark their greed?
Meanwhile, Irene approached Viscount Callio, who was still standing by the broken wine glass with a blank look, and said with sympathy:
“You brought such a fine wine, and it ended up like this. I’m really sorry, Uncle. But I do have a 1967 Ratvie in my collection. Please enjoy that one instead.”
“…What? You have what?”
“I think I have three, maybe four bottles. So don’t hesitate—please enjoy them freely.”
Her smile was so innocent, it couldn’t be taken as mockery.
Has anyone else in this empire ever weaponized politeness so perfectly?
As Leonard silently clicked his tongue, Viscount Callio, his face turning bright red, exploded in anger.
“You said you’d never seen such fine wine before, and now you mock your uncle like this?!”
“Oh my, did I say that? …Ah, perhaps you misunderstood when I asked for the whole bottle?”
Irene tilted her head innocently, her finger on her chin.
“But Uncle, people are like that… the more they have, the more they want.”
Just like you, Uncle.
She didn’t say that out loud—didn’t even mouth it. But strangely, Leonard knew that’s exactly what she was thinking.
“Well then, everyone, please enjoy the rest of the party!”
“Oh my, Marchioness, are you leaving already?”
“Hehe, my darling takes forever to freshen up and change clothes. I just wanted to let you know in advance not to wait.”
“I heard you once called your knight ‘Sir’ for protecting you?”
“Oh dear, my mistake! That’s just a nickname we use when it’s just the two of us.”
As if blaming Leonard, Irene gave him a sweet smile.
Leonard could only give her a weak smile in return—all he wanted now was to go home.
Later, after washing up, changing, and putting medicine on his injured hand, Leonard returned to his guest room—only to find Irene already sitting on the sofa like she owned the place.
“You’re a bit late. Come sit down. You must be tired today.”
Even though she acted like the host, Leonard sat down without complaint—because she really was the host of this house.
“Is there still something I need to do? I think I’ve fulfilled my duty.”
His voice came out a bit sharp, likely from exhaustion.
But Irene didn’t seem offended. She smiled gently, as if aware she’d dragged him around without much explanation.
“I just wanted to apologize—and thank you. I really am sorry, and very grateful.”
She bowed deeply, clearly sincere.
Leonard, who had spent most of his life as a mercenary, wasn’t one for empty words. But seeing someone like the Blair Marchioness bow to him—that was enough.
And honestly, it made him feel a little sorry for her too. She must’ve had her reasons for choosing someone like him as her partner.
“There’s one thing I want to ask…”
“Two or three things are fine too.”
Irene nodded eagerly, as if she hoped he would ask.
Her long, loose hair swayed with her motion. Only then did Leonard notice she had also changed clothes—she wore a soft empire dress, like sleepwear, and her slim figure was clearly visible through the thin fabric.
Then she leaned forward slightly toward him, and a light fragrance tickled his nose.
His ears warmed, and he quickly turned to look out the window behind her, focusing hard on a tree branch to avoid stammering.
“Was there something in the wine Viscount Callio brought?”
“Ah, I thought you’d ask that.”
Irene smiled silently, as if expecting it.
“So that’s why you covered for me and took the wine yourself?”
“Well…”
Leonard nodded awkwardly. He hadn’t planned to bring it up.
“To be precise, I noticed the servant’s odd movement.”
It might not have looked strange to others, but Leonard had sensed something off behind him—like the man had suddenly lost balance and tilted the tray of wine toward Irene.
But even before that happened, Irene had tensed her body—like she knew something was about to happen.
“Did you plan this with someone in advance?”
“Yes. If my uncle handed me a drink, that was the signal.”
Leonard frowned.
“Wasn’t that too risky? If just a little wine spilled, you could’ve stepped out, saying you needed to change clothes.”
It was a dangerous move. If people found out she was soaked in wine at her engagement announcement, she’d be mocked in high society.
Leonard took the fall because he figured it was better for someone already damaged like him to draw attention, rather than her.
“If it were only that much, the guests would’ve waited for me to return. I needed a better excuse—like fainting from shock.”
She smiled as if it was nothing, clearly willing to damage her own reputation to help him.
Leonard squinted, feeling something strange as he looked at her carefree expression.
Even as he stared, Irene just smiled—like she was truly enjoying the moment.
“Since we’re talking, can I ask something too?”
“If it’s something I can answer.”
Leonard nodded, making clear he still had boundaries.
Irene’s voice dropped slightly.
“That injury on your hand… you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Leonard touched the bandaged finger, answering casually.
“I thought having a little wound would help control the situation.”
“It did help, but… please don’t do that again.”
Irene said firmly.
“I’m not such an incapable woman that I need someone to get hurt to take control.”
“Not incapable, huh…”
Leonard chuckled quietly, like he’d seen a red panda trying to be fierce.
“If you’re so capable, why play along with Viscount Callio’s scheme?”
To be honest, even calling it a “scheme” was generous—it was pretty stupid.
Poisoning her in front of all those people? If she collapsed, he’d be the first suspect.
And she already knew what he was planning.
If it were Leonard, he would’ve pretended to drink, collapsed, and accused Callio of poisoning her.
He was sure Irene had thought of that too. So why hadn’t she done it?
He still wanted to know.
