Chapter 57
“You haven’t changed at all, Lady.”
Cordelia tilted her head as she faced Esther, who sat elegantly on a red leather sofa, sipping tea.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I heard you agreed to attend Viscount Owen’s reading circle this time?”
“Oh, your ears are still sharp.”
“Hehe, that’s just basic.”
This salon, open only to women, was a gathering founded by Cordelia’s elder sister, Gerania, and served as one of Cordelia’s few sanctuaries. In the spacious drawing room, five women including Cordelia were present.
“Well, I was bored anyway. Trying something new isn’t so bad, right?”
“Yes, it should be amusing to see what nonsense those bookish gentlemen spout.”
“Esther, you really should watch your words.”
Reina, seated beside Cordelia, chided Esther’s offhand remark.
“I only spoke the truth.”
“I truly don’t know where that contrary personality of yours comes from.”
“Must be in my blood. Unlike you nobles, I suppose.”
Esther chuckled, her face brimming with confidence despite her biting words.
Esther Nigel. Born to a wealthy merchant family, she married a minor nobleman, actively expanded her business ventures, and now stood as one of society’s trendsetters.
Her sharp tongue and frank nature reflected her free upbringing. At first Cordelia had found her hard to deal with, but once they discovered their similar tastes, they quickly grew close. Still, as a merchant to her very bones, Esther was not someone you could afford to let your guard down around—lest she clean you out completely.
Naturally, her frequent clashes with the embodiment of aristocratic grace, Lady Reina Ortega, were one of the salon’s trademarks. And yet, for all their quarrels, the two were just as close—a perfect example of how mysterious human relationships could be.
“It hasn’t been long since that uproar, and if you show up at a gathering full of men, won’t people start talking?”
Hanna’s worried question was met with Cordelia waving her hand lightly, as if unconcerned.
“After all, it’s a respectable event. Adding scandal to it wouldn’t be very noble of anyone.”
“That’s true, but… I doubt there won’t be a few men trying to make advances.”
“Well, there are always at least a couple of fools around.”
Since this was one of the rare events without restrictions on attendance, Cordelia fully understood Hanna’s concern.
“Even so, as long as I don’t give them the chance, that’s all that matters. For now, I plan to attend and display my intellect to the fullest.”
Cordelia meant it sincerely, but the other ladies exchanged glances tinged with concern. Confused by their odd looks, Cordelia narrowed her eyes. Sarah, a teacher at the academy, was even moved to tears, clutching Cordelia’s hand tightly.
“I—I’ll help you in any way I can!”
What misunderstanding is this supposed to be?
Maybe I’ve been acting too cheerful in front of them. Sure, I get why they can’t imagine me sitting lost in thought, but isn’t this a bit much?
For the record, I do read a lot! You’d be shocked at how much you need to study and know if you want to write a book yourself!
“My Lady.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t lose your temper.”
At Esther’s earnest advice, Cordelia sheepishly backed down. Right, that was something she couldn’t exactly guarantee.
Her gaze lingered on Hanna, who sat beside Esther with an awkward smile.
“Oh, right. Hanna.”
“Yes?”
“About your husb—… never mind.”
Cordelia stopped herself. She knew better than to interfere in someone else’s family affairs unless advice was asked for.
She knew. But still, she was genuinely curious. What on earth did Hanna see in that man?
Just the thought of Tirein’s laughing face made her frown as though chewing bitter herbs. Cordelia managed to keep her expression in check, but her thoughts strayed elsewhere.
Would Hanna, perhaps, also know about Noah? By the time she’d married Tirein, Noah was already confined, so maybe not.
No matter how much she wanted to ask, there was nothing she could say aloud. After all, Noah’s very existence was classified.
Just then, the sound of the door opening drew everyone’s attention.
The figure who entered—short-haired, dressed in a shirt and trousers—looked every bit a common boy, but the moment they saw who it was, everyone stood up at once.
“Your Highness Ayla. It has been a while.”
Moving her lips slowly to make sure she was understood, Reina bowed gracefully. Ayla frowned faintly.
“I told you, no need for such formal greetings.”
Her voice, flat and without intonation, carried an odd sense of distance.
This was Princess Ayla Linaen, the current king’s half-sister. Surviving court intrigue had cost her her hearing, and after the king’s accession she had been granted a mansion outside the palace, where she now ran a school.
At twenty-one, Ayla was easily the youngest of the salon members, but none would dare to belittle her. Regardless of rank, respect toward her was only natural.
“We hadn’t heard you would be joining us today.”
“I’ve been busy. But I had some time today.”
“Welcome, Your Highness!”
Everyone exaggerated their lip movements, speaking slower and clearer than usual. Unlike calm, careful Reina, Esther—who spoke however she pleased—struggled the most with this.
Yet with Ayla present, the atmosphere grew livelier still. She was a brilliant storyteller, always full of curious tales, and the ladies, many of whom already moved in society, relished her accounts of simple, cheerful daily happenings even more than gossip.
After a long bout of conversation, one by one the women rose to leave. As Cordelia was preparing to depart, Ayla caught her by the arm.
“Excuse me, Your Highness Ayla.”
With a resolute expression, Cordelia made Ayla tilt her head in curiosity.
“What is it?”
“I know this is a strange question, but…”
Even as she began, Cordelia faltered. Ayla’s expression grew serious, suspecting some weighty matter.
After glancing around to make sure no one was listening, Cordelia led Ayla into an empty room. Only after closing the door did she speak her mind.
“Do you have any thoughts about romance or marriage, Your Highness?”
Now this was unexpected.
Though her brows rose slightly, Ayla answered earnestly.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Just taking care of myself is enough of a struggle. And I doubt anyone could truly love someone like me.”
Ayla’s voice was detached, her face unreadable. She bore no resemblance to him, but something about her attitude reminded Cordelia strongly of Noah.
“What if someone truly loved you—so much that they accepted you no matter the circumstances?”
“I’d consider it… but I think I’d still refuse.”
“Why?! Why would you?!”
Cordelia’s voice rose. Ayla only shrugged lightly.
“My situation is unusual. Anyone who chose me would suffer far more than they would with an ordinary partner. I’m not sure I’m worth that price.”
Cordelia fell silent at her frankness, but soon pressed again.
“Then what would it take for you to accept someone?”
“Unless it were absolutely essential for both of us, I doubt it… I live this way because I choose to. But would they truly feel the same?”
“Then—if the person were strong enough, free enough, to embrace even your situation?”
“Then I’d all the more refuse. Why should they suffer so needlessly?”
Cordelia’s questions grew more insistent, even as Ayla answered them all. Finally, Ayla tilted her head, half amused.
“But why are you asking me this?”
“Oh, um… I just read a novel recently with that sort of theme. It made me curious.”
“I see.”
Ayla nodded indifferently, and silence fell.
At her glance, silently asking if there was more, Cordelia shook her head faintly. Unless she poured everything out, she wouldn’t get any meaningful answer anyway.
Hand on the doorknob, Ayla seemed to recall something and turned back.
“Cordelia.”
“Yes?”
“Think a little more deeply about it. With that kind of devotion, I just might be swayed.”
“Um—”
“And by the way, you’re terrible at lying. I hope it works out for you.”
Leaving those words behind, Ayla opened the door and walked out gracefully.
Left alone, Cordelia resisted the urge to clutch her head, instead letting out a long, weary sigh.
Ah, this really is difficult.
“The moment I saw that mural, I knew I had to commission you.”
Marquis Poliette extended his hand with a gentle smile. Noah carefully took it, shaking it lightly.
“It’s an honor that such a distinguished nobleman would entrust me with this commission.”
Even now, it felt surreal that one of the kingdom’s only four marquisates would offer him, nearly a newcomer, such favorable terms.
Which made it all the harder to relax. He hadn’t met the marquis before, but he surely would at least recognize his mother’s face.
The man had served long in the royal palace, and now even held the position of chancellor. It was fortunate his work in the treasury had kept him out of sight most of the time.
In any case, it was only once every three months they would meet—four times in total—so it should be manageable. Noah felt a faint relief behind the curtain of hair that hid his face, and asked calmly:
“May I ask what kind of composition you’d like?”
“Ah, well…”
The marquis spoke with great enthusiasm, and Noah listened carefully, taking notes. The man’s reputation for integrity and kindness was clearly well-deserved; he was much easier to deal with than Noah had expected.
The intent behind creating a picture book was admirable, too.
“Then I’ll refine the concept and return with a proposal. I’ll begin the main work next year, but first I’ll need to attend the festival this month.”
At the mention of the upcoming festival in Dath, the central territory of Poliette lands, the marquis stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“There’s no need to rush.”
“I find it easier when I prepare in advance.”
“Any expenses—send the bill to me.”
“Yes, my lord.”
They left together, walking down the corridor. Servants glanced curiously at the towering man who accompanied the marquis, but quickly went on their way.
“Wait.”
At the soft voice, Noah turned his head.
From across the hall, a woman approached with her maids. She stopped in her tracks, gazing steadily at Noah.
