Chapter – 14
Viscount Ian Walker had intentionally invited only those of lower rank than himself—barons and below—to today’s party. That way, he could fully flaunt his newly elevated status before them.
‘Where else would you find a noble as open-minded as me? Inviting even the gentry like this.’
Of course, he conveniently omitted the important fact that he had selectively invited only the wealthy capitalists among the gentry. Convinced of his own generosity, Walker smugly stroked what he firmly believed to be the symbol of wealth—his round belly. The large ring fitted on his middle finger caught the light and glittered exaggeratedly.
“Dear, why don’t you go over there and rest a bit? You’ve been standing since the beginning of the party.”
Alice Walker, worried about her husband who had remained on the platform the entire time like a statue, spoke to him carefully.
Walker snorted dismissively.
“Stop saying such stupid things. The host of the party should stand at the highest place and oversee everything until the very end. Don’t give advice when you don’t know anything.”
“…I’m sorry.”
Alice lowered her head, her face flushed from the immediate scolding. Clicking his tongue, Walker grumbled loudly to himself.
“Damn it… all the money I spent on this, and yet everyone’s flocking to her. I even arranged a spot for them to express gratitude to this Viscount, but no one has the sense to come.”
Hearing his loud muttering, Alice’s face turned from red to ashen.
‘So that’s why he’s so obsessed with this party… What a pathetic reason.’
The truth was, the only reason Ian Walker had been promoted from baron to viscount was bribery. By flooding the crown prince with money, jewels, and foreign luxury goods, he finally secured the special annual promotion given to only one person.
Meanwhile, the once-comfortable family fortune had dwindled drastically. Alice had tried explaining their precarious finances and suggested skipping the celebratory party, only to be lashed with insults. Instead of supporting the head of the family’s “social endeavors,” she was accused of undermining him.
‘Has the Ian Walker I once knew—the shy, gentle Ian—completely vanished?’
Lost in distant memories, Alice quietly stepped away from her husband.
Unaware of his wife’s feelings, Walker continued glaring toward Brielle and Octavia with his narrow eyes.
‘Something’s wrong. Seriously wrong.’
Stealing the guests’ attention wasn’t enough—Viscount Walker was even more displeased by how the daughter of a viscount was treating a member of the gentry with such kindness.
Several times, Brielle Taylor personally fetched things for Octavia, a commoner, and even brushed dust off her clothes.
Such blurring of class boundaries was utterly incomprehensible to Walker.
‘They call it independence, but she was clearly kicked out of her house.’
He concluded that a noble lady must have been treated that way because of her flawed behavior. It also led him to believe she had sunk low enough to run a business.
His thoughts then shifted to Aidan Hill and her scandal.
Long before the correction article came out, he had insisted that the two could not possibly be romantically involved. His reasoning was simple:
How could the great Duke Aidan Hill possibly date such an inferior woman?
Naturally, he had been right. The correction stating they had no relationship was published immediately. After that, Walker even sent a letter of consolation to the duke—someone he had never even met.
‘Now that I think of it, he hasn’t replied yet. Well, even I, a viscount, am busy hosting parties like this. A duke must be far busier.’
Satisfied with his unsolicited “consideration,” Walker continued glaring dagger-like at Brielle Taylor, whom he blamed for spreading baseless rumors involving the duke.
‘What is wrong with him?’
Brielle frowned slightly, puzzled by Viscount Walker openly staring at her. There was nothing about him she found pleasant.
‘He doesn’t need to stare so desperately. I’ll be seeing him soon enough.’
Silently mocking today’s prey, Ian Walker, Brielle subtly scanned the room. There were still too many guests; it wasn’t the right moment to act.
Then suddenly, a woman’s voice—tinged with a mocking undertone—cut into her thoughts.
“But Lady Taylor, pardon me for asking… Are you really running that café yourself? Under your own name?”
“…Yes, I am.”
“Oh my, what a story that must be. Forgive me for asking, but… business hardly suits nobles like us, wouldn’t you agree? Ah, no offense meant.”
It hadn’t even been thirty minutes since Brielle had arrived, and yet she already had a clear grasp of so-called “noble speech.”
Pardon me, excuse me, forgive me…
Any sentence beginning like that was almost guaranteed to end with something unpleasant. Likewise, when someone said “no offense,” there was always offense intended.
‘Basically a warning: stop lowering the dignity of the nobility. Cute, really.’
Having already grown used to their mannerisms, Brielle lightly tapped Octavia’s reddening arm to calm her and opened her mouth.
“There’s no special story behind it. Lady Gardner, was it? Have you ever read the Berkshire Kingdom’s legal code?”
“Eh? No? Why would I ever read something like that…?”
Lady Gardner, who had expected a sharp retort, blinked in confusion at the sudden mention of the law.
Meanwhile, Brielle remained perfectly composed.
“I’ve read the Berkshire law code about twenty times. Impressive, isn’t it?”
“…S-sorry? Why are you bragging…?”
“And yet, despite reading it so much, I never once found a law forbidding nobles from running a business. So you don’t have to worry about my status or dignity.”
“O-oh… th-that’s… good to know.”
It wasn’t just Lady Gardner whose face reddened. Several nobles who shared her thoughts also shifted awkwardly, some even coughing into their hands.
“I will remember your concern and repay it. Our café’s pastries are quite delicious, so I’ll treat you specially if you visit.”
Having taken the chance to advertise her café, Brielle smiled pleasantly. But before Octavia could add anything, someone else spoke up first.
“That’s right! I’ve been to Garden at Noon, and the pastries are truly wonderful. The tea was excellent too.”
The slightly excited voice belonged to none other than Alice Walker, the hostess of the manor.
Brielle blinked in mild surprise, then smiled as she responded.
“I remember your visit. I will be sure to repay your kindness, madam.”
“Oh, no need. It’s a lovely place, and I enjoyed my time there.”
Meanwhile, Octavia had already sighed in relief multiple times. Brielle was adapting to the party far better than expected.
Her quick mastery of noble speech and ability to fend off comments with just the right edge—Octavia couldn’t help but admire her intelligence.
‘Thank goodness no one of higher rank showed up.’
What protected Brielle so far was the guests’ relatively low social standing. Since everyone here ranked below her, no one could push her too far. Regardless of the rumors, she was still a viscount’s daughter.
Even the newly made viscountess, Alice Walker, was helping Brielle. For a late debut, things were going surprisingly smoothly.
…That is, until the moment Octavia arrived at this hopeful conclusion.
Suddenly, the central hall doors swung open widely.
And three people—none of whom should ever be here—entered.
Not one.
Three.
“His Highness, Crown Prince Harold Martin Walter, has arrived!”
“His Highness Prince Bernard Allen Walter, and Police Commissioner Frank Porter, have arrived!”
The servants’ booming announcement immediately froze the entire hall. Guests, musicians—everyone—fell silent from the shock.
“Y-Your Highness! To grace such a humble place with your presence!”
Viscount Walker, who had remained on the platform, was just as stunned by the prince’s unannounced arrival. He hurried toward the crown prince—only to trip on the steps and fall flat on his face.
“Pfft—!”
“Shut it…!”
Brielle’s laughter burst out before she could stop it, and Octavia swiftly pinched her side. Thanks to that quick-witted friendship, Brielle narrowly escaped drawing the crown prince’s attention.
