SMR | Chapter 82

~Chapter 82~

“Why not? You want it too,” Cedric murmured, his voice low and lazy, his eyes hazy with desire.

There was a seductive slowness in his tone, a pull that almost made Harriet lose her grip on reality. His drowsy gaze, his heavy breath, the heat between them—it was all overwhelming.

People often said first kisses were awkward or clumsy.

But this? This was nothing like that.

It had been electrifying.

Perfect, even.

A part of her wanted to lose herself in the moment, to pretend this wasn’t a mistake, to go along with Cedric’s dangerous rhythm.

But then—the sound of footsteps.

They were close now. Too close.

Harriet’s last shred of reason clung to that sound like a lifeline.

“People are coming!” she whispered breathlessly, trying to keep her voice down while her heart raced in panic.

Perhaps it was the panic in her voice, or maybe it was that the kiss had somewhat calmed Cedric’s heated mind. Either way, he stopped.

His eyes moved slowly, like he was only just regaining awareness of his surroundings.

‘Something feels off,’ he thought vaguely.

Harriet’s body was arched away from him, barely holding back the tension.

Harriet, still holding her shawl over both their heads, was using one hand to keep the lace fabric from slipping while the other pressed against his chest, trying to push him away.

Cedric realized he was practically draped over her, close enough to bend her backward.

And that’s when it hit him—how absurd this must look.

How shameful.

‘What… am I doing?’

His thoughts were shady, like trying to grasp air underwater. Nothing made sense.

As his thoughts tried to form, the only word that left his lips was a confused, “Why…?”

Questions flooded his mind. What had happened? Why was he here? Why was he clinging to Harriet like a drunken fool?

He blinked, slowly lifting his head and peering through a tiny gap in the shawl.

A group of people was lingering nearby.

Normally, in a noble setting like this, it was understood that one did not intrude on others’ private moments in dark gardens. But these men weren’t moving on. Instead, they were scanning the area like they were searching for someone.

“Don’t say a word,” Harriet whispered suddenly. “Let me handle this.”

Before Cedric could respond, Harriet slipped out from under the shawl, standing upright again with her back straight and her tone sharp.

She turned toward the men who had been wandering nearby and snapped, letting her irritation show, “Why are you all lingering around here? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

The men looked surprised when they realized who she was—Harriet Listerwell. One of them stole a quick glance at the man who seemed to be leading them.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Ah, well… Have you by any chance seen Cedric—Duke of Kailas—come this way?”

“Who?” Harriet asked blankly.

“Cedric. The Duke. He went this way, and we’re looking for him.”

Harriet raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “If he passed through here, I wouldn’t know. But I imagine someone like him would have enough manners to walk past quietly, unlike certain people.”

Her sharp tone made the man shrink back slightly. He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“I see. Apologies. It’s just… the Duke went missing, and we’re trying to locate him.”

“Try looking somewhere else,” Harriet said coolly. “I’ve got plenty to do with my prince over here.”

“Haha… Of course. Well, good evening, miss.”

With a few more bows and sheepish glances, they finally walked away. One of them kept craning his neck, trying to peek at the figure beneath the shawl, but the lace and the shadows made it impossible to identify who it was.

Once they were gone, Harriet clicked her tongue in irritation and slipped back under the shawl.

The air inside the shawl was warm and close. The world outside faded into a blur. For a while, she remained still, curled in what looked like an embrace with Cedric, waiting until the last of the footsteps faded.

A cold breeze slipped through the night.

Harriet swallowed hard.

She slowly pulled away from him, then removed the shawl, finally exposing them to the night air again.

“Are… are you okay?” she asked, hesitantly.

It wasn’t exactly the right thing to say, given the circumstances. But she needed to say something.

Cedric didn’t answer right away. But his eyes no longer looked completely dazed. They had begun to clear—though his lips still parted like he was trying to speak and couldn’t find the words.

He seemed to be fighting through a fog in his mind.

Harriet gently reached up to fix his messy collar.

“Did you… take something?” she asked softly.

He blinked at her. “Something…?”

“I mean, your behavior. It doesn’t feel like normal drunkenness. There’s barely any alcohol smell on your breath.”

Cedric’s eyes wavered again. Confused, but maybe beginning to understand.

Harriet reached up again, smoothing down his tangled hair, which had become messy when she’d pulled the shawl over his head earlier.

“Do you know those guys? The ones who were just here? They were looking for you, and I don’t think it was out of concern. One of them might’ve known you were drugged.”

Something shifted behind Cedric’s eyes. Her words cut through the fog like a knife.

Pieces of memory started returning—bit by bit.

The champagne. The sudden heat. The strange sensation in his skin. The woman with the red lips. The scent of roses in winter. The flutter of pink fabric disappearing. Harriet’s voice. Her lips. The kiss. And then another.

‘What the hell have I done…?’

The realization came all at once. His stomach dropped.

He wanted to believe this had all been a dream—a weird and wild fantasy. But the woman in front of him, still brushing dust off his coat, made it clear this was very real.

“Do you know him?” Harriet asked again, watching him carefully.

He closed his eyes tightly. Shame poured over him.

“…Albert Kingsley.”

“What?”

“My cousin,” Cedric said bitterly.

Harriet’s jaw dropped, speechless for a moment.

But Cedric felt oddly calm now. With that single name, everything made sense.

‘So he drugged me… with the intention of humiliating me in public?’

He couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“He’s been interested in the pharmaceutical business lately,” Cedric muttered. “And now he’s apparently using his own ‘products’ for disgusting stunts.”

Harriet’s eyes widened in realization.

“Wait… is that company producing a drug called Angelique?”

“Something like that,” Cedric said, his tone dripping with disgust.

“And you think he spiked your drink with it?”

“Most likely.”

She blinked, processing.

“That’s the one everyone’s been gossiping about all night. I heard it’s used for mood enhancement. Supposedly helps with depression—but mainly it’s used for, um… lustful reasons.”

Cedric nodded grimly.

Now that he had pieced it together, he was sure.

Still, the drug’s effects hadn’t completely worn off. His blood was still warm. His heart beat faster whenever his eyes landed on Harriet’s face. Her lips. Her neck. Even as he looked away, his body kept responding.

Harriet must’ve noticed his expression shift, because she lightly tapped his cheek.

“Listen,” she said firmly. “You’re going to stay hidden right here. I’ll send someone to get Edgar Dawson.”

She pushed him gently toward the shrubs behind the gazebo and then hurried off toward the ballroom.

‘No! Harriet, wait. Don’t call Edgar. Call anyone but him. He’ll tease me about this for years!’

He wanted to shout that, to beg her not to bring Edgar. But the words stuck in his throat.

He slumped back, exhausted. His head spun. His limbs felt heavy. He clenched his fists to stay awake.

Moments later, a shadow loomed above him. He opened his eyes and found Edgar kneeling in front of him.

“You okay, Cedric?”

“…Edgar? That was fast…”

Uncharacteristically, Edgar looked pale and worried.

“How long has this been happening?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Harriet answered. She had returned, standing behind him. “By the time I found him, he was already like this.”

“And you said it was Albert Kingsley who came looking for him?”

“Yes. I didn’t recognize him, but Cedric said that’s who it was. His cousin.”

Cedric didn’t like how easily Harriet and Edgar were talking. Earlier, she had smiled at Edgar on the dance floor. Did she like him?

Edgar was too friendly. Too charming. He was the type women always followed around. Cedric didn’t want to admit it—but the thought made his stomach twist.

As Edgar helped him up, Cedric let himself lean on him, though the idea of it irritated him more than it comforted him.

Then Harriet looked at Cedric and said, “If you’re not planning to, um… spend the night with anyone, then drink lots of water and go to the restroom. Don’t drink any more alcohol—it strengthens the drug’s effect.”

With that, she gave Edgar a quick, respectful nod and turned to leave.

Cedric could only watch as the vision of soft pink petals—the woman who had just saved him—walked away without looking back.

***

Later, Edgar sat beside Cedric, who was gulping down water like a dying man.

“Albert… that bastard’s bolder than I thought,” Edgar muttered.

“To drug you at a party this public… and then look for you in front of people?”

“It had to be when he came with those idiots to ‘say hello,’” Cedric said flatly. “He probably spiked my champagne. He insisted on a toast.”

“Are you sure it was Angelique?”

Cedric nodded grimly. “I’m sure now.”