STLECM 08

CHAPTER 08

“……”

Duke Cayenne glanced briefly at the noisy designers and then locked eyes with Etisha.

Etisha hadn’t said a word, but Cayenne could already tell what was going on. Just like the incident with Larienne at yesterday’s party, something must’ve happened between Etisha and these designers too.

“There’s no need to listen to this, Lady Etisha. There are plenty of designers. I’ll send them back and call for others.”

Duke Cayenne turned to summon the attendant waiting outside the door. But just then, Etisha gently stopped him.

“Your Grace. Please, wait a moment.”

“…Lady Etisha?”

Etisha calmly looked at the three designers. None of them could meet her eyes—they just stared at the floor.

“On second thought, since Your Grace went to the trouble of summoning these designers, it would be rude to reject them outright. There’s no need for unnecessary hassle.”

Even though they had once looked down on and dismissed her, Etisha couldn’t bring herself to completely cast them out now.

…This should be enough.

If word of this incident got out and it became known that these three had fallen out of favor with Duke Cayenne, it would be the end of their careers.

No noble, especially those sensitive to trends and gossip, would dare purchase from designers who had angered the Duke of Wintel.

And seeing the designers so meek before her, Etisha almost forgot the humiliation of being treated so poorly in the past.

It’s not so bad to let them take the commission. They won’t be able to take on any other work for three months, after all. That’s good enough for me. That’s fair.

With a soft smile, Etisha made her decision.

“I’ll just give the commission to them.”

The designers—Vivian, Lucy, and Nigel—looked as if they had come back from the dead, overwhelmed with relief at her graciousness.

Cayenne asked once more to confirm her intent.

“Are you truly content with that?”

“Yes. I came to the villa empty-handed, so I need something to wear immediately… And I’ve visited their salons a few times before, so I think the commission will go smoothly and quickly.”

“…I see.”

“I’m really fine with it. Truly.”

“If that’s your wish, I’ll respect it. If you ever need other designers, feel free to summon whomever you like.”

“Thank you, I will.”

“Then I’ll take my leave. I’ll return this afternoon.”

It seemed Duke Cayenne had other business to attend to. As he turned to leave the sitting room, Etisha called out to him.

“Your Grace. Thank you.”

“…There’s nothing I’ve done to warrant your thanks.”

Cayenne didn’t finish the sentence and left the room. But Etisha could almost hear the words he left unspoken.

“There’s nothing I’ve done to be thanked for.”

Etisha adjusted her posture and turned to the three designers. Vivian, Lucy, and Nigel looked at her with tense eyes.

In contrast, Etisha looked relaxed and refreshed.

“Everyone.”

“……”

“Dresses, jewelry, shoes… Where shall we start?”

Even looking at the designers now, she felt nothing. It was all thanks to Cayenne.

The grand gates opened, and Duke Cayenne emerged from the mansion. His steps toward the carriage were slow, as if he were lost in thought.

Your Grace. Thank you.

He could still hear Etisha’s voice in his ears.

Even if you didn’t intend to help, I received help regardless. That’s enough reason to be thankful.

Cayenne clenched his large hand. In his palm was a hexagonal nameplate.

It was a nameplate that proved the villa and nearby land legally belonged to Etisha.

…What a pointless gesture.

Cayenne slowly looked down at the nameplate. Then, he tucked it into his coat.

Perhaps Etisha was right.

Though he claimed not to be helping her, perhaps in truth, he was.

At least until she arrived safely in the North—he was helping her.

But why?

Bringing forward the marriage announcement, having her stay at the villa, summoning the designers—these all fell within the expected duties toward the future Duchess of Wintel.

But this nameplate…

There’s no excuse. This is something worth being thanked for.

Cayenne didn’t want Etisha to ever learn the secret of the nameplate. It would be troublesome if she figured out why he was helping her so much.

Not that it matters. It won’t come to the point where she’ll need to use the nameplate.

With a cold expression, Cayenne brushed back his black hair and climbed into the carriage.

His aide, Valdefram, was already inside waiting.

“Your Grace. I’ve completed the investigation as instructed.”

Valdefram, with short gray hair and the typical appearance of a northerner, handed over a file.

“This is the investigation into the Heinz family and Lady Etisha Heinz.”

Cayenne took the file with a blank expression and skimmed through it.

The pages were filled with text—mostly information he already knew. A remarried household. Etisha Heinz, overshadowed by Larienne Heinz. A timid, unremarkable, and lonely lady…

But there were still things that couldn’t be learned from paper.

The Heinz family never gave me the time or space to think about what I truly wanted.

I’ll start thinking about it slowly, step by step, by your side, Your Grace.

Cayenne closed the file and asked Valdefram:

“The three designers summoned to the mansion today. What’s their relationship with Lady Etisha?”

Valdefram bowed respectfully and answered.

“Yes, Your Grace. All three are close acquaintances of Lady Larienne Heinz.”

“And?”

“They used Lady Etisha as a porter whenever Lady Larienne visited their salons.”

A porter?

Cayenne’s brows furrowed. Using a noble lady as a porter?

But Valdefram wasn’t done.

“They even sent her on errands knowing the commissioned items weren’t finished, just to mess with her. There were also occasions when she was kicked out of the salons.”

Cayenne’s expression turned chillingly sharp, like a honed blade.

When he thought of Etisha Heinz, her white complexion and pink hair came to mind first—but more than that, her detached, composed demeanor lingered in his memory.

When I asked her whether she wanted to sever ties with her family or seek revenge, she said she didn’t know.

If Etisha truly wanted, she could achieve anything.

If she became Duchess of Wintel, she could not only demand apologies but take bitter revenge as well.

With some effort, she could have her father’s title stripped and force her family—now commoners—to serve her as attendants. She could drown her sorrows in their suffering.

And more. Everyone who had scorned her could be made to kneel and tremble at her feet.

But she answered as though she’d never even imagined revenge.

That surprised Cayenne.

How could someone who had been abused and isolated grow up to be like that?

Is it because she’s terminally ill? But if Cayenne had only a year left to live, he’d seek vengeance more ruthlessly, not less.

Same situation. Different choice.

Cayenne pictured Etisha sitting alone in the drawing room.

It wasn’t enough that she calmly faced the designers—she would even wear their designs.

A long sigh escaped him.

If he had known, he would’ve called different designers.

If he had known, even if she protested, he would’ve cast those three out.

Foolish of me.

Cayenne reached into his coat and brushed his thumb along the edge of the hexagonal nameplate. Then, he gave an order to Valdefram.

“Stop the carriage.”

“…Pardon?”

“Stop.”

Valdefram hurriedly relayed the order to the coachman. The carriage bearing the Wintel crest came to a halt in the middle of the road.

“Turn the horses. We’re going to the imperial palace.”

It was the second day of the founding festival. From today, the royal family would also begin attending the events. Even Emperor Ignivan would make an appearance.

“I suppose it’s time I pay His Majesty a visit.”

Before the second-day party began, there was one thing Cayenne had to finish.

Late in the afternoon, Etisha waited for Duke Cayenne in the central hall.

Where could he have gone?

Since leaving the mansion that morning, Cayenne hadn’t returned. When she asked the staff, none seemed to know his whereabouts.

They all just said they didn’t know.

They were supposed to attend the festival as partners, but at this rate, she might not have enough time to get ready.

Ah… could it be…?

Suddenly, a thought struck her.

Did he go to see his mistress?

Maybe he’d brought her to the capital. That would explain why the servants were being so secretive.

Yes. That must be why he left without a word. It makes sense now.

If Cayenne had come with his mistress, she would surely return with him to the north as well.

Etisha pictured the duke’s mysterious mistress and illegitimate child, then shook her head.

Enough of that.

Cayenne’s private life was none of her concern.

A contract marriage, without emotional attachment.

That was her own condition.

Etisha calmly waited for Cayenne to return. And as time passed, when the sky turned a beautiful shade of crimson, the Duke finally arrived at the villa.

“I’m later than expected.”

He climbed the stairs and entered the mansion, with Valdefram following behind.

Then, Cayenne’s eyes fell upon the central hall.

“…Lady Etisha?”

Seeing her waiting there, his steps faltered for a moment.

“Have you been waiting?”

“Yes, but not for too long.”

Etisha smiled as she greeted him. Light seemed to radiate around her in the central hall.

“……”

She glowed from head to toe.

Her pink hair and striking blue eyes stood in beautiful contrast. Her flowing white dress fluttered as if it weighed nothing.

Around her slender neck and on her ears sparkled pink diamonds, and her shoes—made of something like cut crystal—shimmered in different colors from every angle.

But what truly captured Cayenne’s gaze wasn’t her appearance—it was her expression.

She looks at peace.

Her eyes were as unwavering as the first time they met.

As if wearing something made by rude designers didn’t matter at all. As if such petty people could never touch her.

Etisha stood firm, steady in her own center.

Without thinking, Cayenne opened his mouth and said,

“You look beautiful.”