Chapter 34
“There are people worth talking to, and people not worth a second glance. Why should I bother with some penniless bumpkin who asks about my dowry before anything else? I won’t apologise. Unless Duke Tessarion Claremont apologises to me first.”
“Lady Petunia. This is the only and fastest way to meet His Grace. Please gain that squire knight’s favour and ask him to arrange a private audience with the Duke. A lady like you could easily…”
Altaire closed his dictionary and stood up. He stepped forward to block the furious young lady’s path.
“Kyaa! Who are you?!”
Startled, the noble girl eyed Altaire warily. Her knight drew his sword, and the middle-aged madam clutched her chest in shock.
Snap.
Altaire snapped his fingers. In an instant, everything froze. The young lady shrank back, staring at the world turned to stone.
“Lady Petunia. May I meet that squire knight in your place?”
“W-what?”
“I am Roy Dover’s longtime friend. I heard he’s in trouble, but all my audience requests were rejected. I heard you have an appointment with him today. Let me meet him on your behalf, and I will plead your request to him.”
Her eyes widened. Faced with this unexpected situation, she trembled, her suspicion mixed with fear.
Was he a mage? He appeared suddenly and blocked her, yet his warm smile and gentle demeanour didn’t match a threat. Compared to penniless Roy Dover, he looked a hundred times more reliable, sincere, and kind.
Unaware of the subtle charm magic Altaire had used, Petunia clasped her hands over her pounding chest, eyes sparkling.
“R-really?”
“Yes. But this must remain our secret.”
Blushing, the noble lady nodded.
❖ ❖ ❖
“Disappointing.”
Each syllable of Tessarion’s deep voice pierced down like nails. My heart flipped, screaming of impending death, but I forced myself to look him in the eye.
Madam Mores’ tailor and musician, sweating nervously, spoke up.
“Y-your Grace, Roy is only twenty. He’s never had private conversations with such high-born ladies. He was probably extremely nervous…”
“Yes! Conversational skills need practice. If he meets a few more ladies and keeps trying…”
Tessarion raised a hand, cutting them off. From his inner pocket, he pulled out a cigarette case and a long pipe. He hadn’t smoked in a while; seeing him do so now meant he was truly displeased with my performance today.
“Do you realise you’ve blemished my reputation today?”
“Sorry.”
I answered flatly, feeling not the slightest guilt. Clicking his tongue in displeasure, he pinched his brow and sighed deeply.
“Why did you do it?”
“……”
Those women were as rude as the original villainesses aspiring to be duchess.
How rude, exactly?
The first villainess, probably addled from too much studying, said, “Do you know who Leon’s first love was? It was me. When he was five, he even proposed to me…”
The second villainess ranted, “There’s no way His Grace would do that! It’s all that crippled princess’s fault! I must save him from that witch!” She then tried to hand me a strange Eastern continent black magic talisman to hang in Tessarion’s room.
The third villainess, who slapped me, was the sanest of the three.
“They all kept asking questions about Your Grace out of nowhere. It was annoying.”
I summed up my wretched day in one sentence.
Tessarion smoked silently, his golden eyes resting on the bright red handprint on my cheek, before exhaling cold blue-tinged smoke.
“I see.”
See what? I blinked at his curt, dismissive words.
“You don’t need to meet those ladies again.”
“Really? Are you serious?”
Yes!
Internally I cheered. The misery of being drenched in tea and slapped vanished instantly.
Tessarion handed me Madam Mores’ first business project: the potential brides album.
“Pick one you like.”
I knew it.
I flipped through without interest. Aside from Villainesses 1, 2, and 3, I didn’t even know who these extras were. Should I just pick anyone?
“Do I have to choose right now? I haven’t finished my reports yet.”
“……”
Tessarion glared sharply. Sighing, I turned back to the album.
“So I need to pick someone to escort to Princess Berieta’s welcome ball, right?”
In that case.
“I will escort my younger sister, Maril.”
I set the album down and declared firmly. Her portrait wasn’t there, nor was she on the debut list this year, but she was sixteen. She was old enough to appear in society.
Since Tessarion would formally introduce his fiancée Berieta there, even our backwater Dover barony would receive an invitation. We just couldn’t afford a proper dress.
I thought he’d explode at my audacity to choose someone off the list. Instead, Tessarion smiled brightly.
“Is that so?”
Chills shot down my spine.
“N-no! On second thought, Maril isn’t ready for such a grand ball. I’ll reconsider!”
I frantically reopened the album.
What was I thinking, offering up my sister as a sacrificial lamb before a tiger?
“Why? I’m curious what your sister looks like. Maril Dover, was it… quite short, is that a nickname?”
“No need to wonder. She looks exactly like me. Except her personality is even nastier… I mean, she’s as wild as a young mustang.”
“Really? How intriguing.”
What did he just say? You bastard! Don’t take interest in an extra thirteen years younger than you!
I widened my eyes and searched the album with desperate focus.
Would there be a single lady I could escort? Whoever it was needed Tessarion’s approval, but also enough cunning and agility to flee if needed.
Tessarion chuckled lowly.
“Roy.”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Are you hiring someone for the knights? Why are you only looking at candidates from knightly families with military backgrounds and horseback riding skills?”
My heart lurched guiltily.
“You have such… unique tastes.”
Tessarion smiled slyly, flicking his pipe. My face burned hot.
“Wh-what? No, I… that’s not…”
I didn’t realise he was watching. Hastily, I covered the album and turned away.
“Don’t laugh.”
To him, this was mere entertainment. To me, people’s lives hung in the balance. Rage boiled up within me.
“So what if my taste is odd? Everyone says Your Grace’s taste is far stranger!”
“Ah, that’s true.”
“Don’t just ‘Ah, that’s true~’ me! All the ladies today knew you’re ignoring the princess’s illness and acting cold. They’re deluding themselves that you’ll break off the engagement and marry them instead!”
“Can’t be helped.”
He really did know how attractive he was. The way he shrugged so smugly was infuriating.
Ugh, I’m so stressed. Even an hour away from him would be bliss.
Scowling, I shoved the album back at him.
“Have you chosen?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Tessarion opened the album, pipe between his lips.
Placing both hands on my hips, I inhaled deeply and puffed out my chest. Staring him straight in the eye, I declared proudly:
“It’s a secret!”
I won’t tell you.
You rotten bastard.
