Chapter 64
The moment Marsha stepped down from the carriage, the sight before her nearly made her dizzy.
The duke’s estate in Delua was beyond comparison to the villa in Sedem.
Just the servants lined up neatly to greet their master numbered more than fifty.
Considering the staff working in the kitchens, laundry, and other areas, the household must employ over a hundred people.
“Your Grace. You’ve returned.”
An elderly butler bowed deeply, and the servants bent their backs in unison.
“Yes. You received my letter, I assume.”
“Of course, Your Grace. And this must be the daughter of Viscount Railford?”
The butler fixed his eyes on Marsha, and her lips trembled under the weight of his gaze.
I still can’t get used to that title…
For the time being, Marsha had become the Viscount’s daughter.
The Railford family was a modest house settled on the northern edge of the March of Severia.
Even during the summer season, when nobles flocked to Delua, the family never traveled to the capital.
The viscount was frail, uninterested in power or in the nobles’ endless diversions.
The viscount’s daughter had inherited her father’s weakness.
While resting in Sedem, she happened to stumble upon an injured Claudio in the woods.
Not knowing who he was, she had treated his wounds.
In return, Claudio invited her to his estate in Delua.
Thus was spun the tale—half-truth, half-fabrication—that explained why the “Viscount’s daughter” had arrived in Delua at Claudio’s side.
“I will serve you with utmost devotion.”
“You’d better. She is the savior of my life, after all.”
Claudio bent and pressed his lips to the back of Marsha’s hand.
The old butler’s face flickered with startled confusion.
W-what on earth is he doing!
Does he really need to put on such a show in front of all these people…?
Marsha’s cheeks burned crimson.
She longed to pull her hand away and protest, but no viscount’s daughter would dare refuse the duke so openly.
She had no choice but to endure it.
***
When they had arrived at the Gloria villa in Sedem, Marsha had been nervous and exhausted, yet still found herself stealing glances at the magnificent building.
But here, in the ducal seat of Delua, she could not even manage that.
“Whew…!”
At last, in Claudio’s study, she released the breath she had been holding.
“Why are you so tense? You look more like a noble lady than anyone else, you know.”
No conversation was needed to tell a true noblewoman from a pretender.
Those raised and educated among the aristocracy carried an effortless grace, even standing still.
Just like Marsha now.
“How could I not be nervous? I’m lying.”
It was unnerving enough to deceive a handful of people—how much worse to deceive an entire household?
Her mouth was parched, her insides aflame with anxiety.
“There’s no need to be so tense inside the estate. The staff are discreet. Even if you act strangely, nothing will leak outside.”
Claudio tapped the stack of invitations piled high on his desk, sending them spilling across the surface.
“The real concern is the parties. Do you remember why I asked you to take on this tiresome role?”
“…”
Having signed the contract, Marsha had no choice but to comply.
Only a few days earlier, Claudio had explained in detail why he needed her.
“You said… ‘The future queen is behaving in a way that could cause scandal.’” Marsha replied curtly. Handsome as he was, she’d assumed plenty of women chased him. But to hear that even the king’s fiancée had fallen under his spell? It sounded like something out of a foreign tale, where a man’s beauty could topple nations. And Claudio certainly seemed capable of it.
“Your expression makes it look as though I seduced her. I’ve told you time and again—I despise that woman.”
Claudio had no wish to speak of Beatrice to Marsha.
He had brought her here precisely to guard against that woman, and yet.
Better to explain clearly from the start than let it fester in secrecy.
“And it isn’t just about her. More than anything, I need to show the man who hurt me that I am alive and well.”
“I see… You’re right.”
Marsha nodded gravely, face taut with tension.
Claudio gestured toward the scattered invitations.
“So. Which gathering shall we attend first?”
“I wouldn’t know. I suppose I’ll just follow wherever Your Grace decides…”
Claudio narrowed his eyes.
Marsha flinched.
“What now? What’s displeasing you this time?”
“Even when it’s only us, you insist on calling me ‘Your Grace.’”
Her head ached at his constant complaint.
Was it truly so wrong to call a duke by his title?
If I get used to calling him by name, and then slip up in front of others—that would be a disaster!
Even in the Duchy of Domique, it was rare for an unmarried man and woman to address each other by name.
Among the nobles of Stravine, the taboo was stricter still.
And he wasn’t just any man—he was a duke.
Even if Claudio didn’t mind, society would erupt in scandal.
“So, you don’t want to choose a party?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I simply don’t know enough to make a choice…”
“Well, if that’s the case, there’s nothing for it.”
He gave a half-smile, lifting one corner of his lips.
Marsha’s stomach knotted.
Perhaps she should have just picked one at random.
***
News of Claudio’s return spread swiftly through Delua.
Since pledging his support to the king, he had spent every summer season in the capital.
“But last year, he only came at the height of the season, and left earlier than anyone. Why return so soon this year? Could it be he intends to join society this time?”
“Oh, if only he would grace our family’s party… it would be the greatest honor!”
The ladies of fashion found Claudio intimidating and forbidding.
Few dared speak to him, and none expected to.
Yet they still longed for his presence at their gatherings—for the prestige of it, if nothing else.
“But inviting the duke means we can’t invite her.”
“Ah… that young lady…”
The name none dared speak aloud, lest someone overhear and spread gossip: the Marquess of Hemes’s daughter.
The king’s betrothed—yet she brazenly pursued Claudio, leaving a trail of scandal.
Invite her, and Claudio would never come.
But it would be unthinkable not to invite her.
She was destined to be queen.
To snub her would be political suicide.
As the ladies fretted, the gentlemen pondered in their lounges.
“The duke’s distaste for women is well known.”
“He doesn’t seem overly fond of men either.”
“Be that as it may, he must secure an heir someday. Until now, ‘that young lady’ has been the obstacle…”
One cleared his throat, lowered his voice, and glanced around.
“But in time, she will be queen. Then the duke will marry, surely.”
“And?”
“I was thinking… perhaps I could introduce my daughter to him this season…”
“Ha! Keep dreaming. How could a count’s daughter ever become the duchess? The late duke’s wife was a princess of Molt.”
“Are you saying only foreign royalty could be his bride?”
“Well… unless she is exceptionally beautiful. Like my daughter.”
“Ha!”
The older nobles all longed to see their daughters by the duke’s side.
Those without daughters watched instead for any chance to tie themselves to Claudio’s thriving ventures.
Then, into both the ladies’ salons and the gentlemen’s lounges, a shocking rumor spread.
“What? The duke himself is hosting a party? Impossible!”
“It’s true. The most famous salon designers in the capital—all of them marched into the ducal estate carrying catalogs of unreleased work!”
Unbelievable.
The Duke of Gloria, who held only the occasional gathering for his vassals in Gloem, the duchy’s capital?
“But why salon designers? He already has a personal tailor, and salons only handle dresses…”
“Well, word is… he brought back a young lady from his holiday. And this party is being prepared for her.”
“No! Truly? Who is she? What family does she belong to?”
“They say… it’s complicated.”
And so the tale of the impoverished Viscount’s daughter who saved the Duke of Gloria spread like wildfire through Delua.
Inevitably, it reached Beatrice’s ears.
What on earth is happening?
In the shadowed chamber, curtains drawn, she sat unmoving, her thoughts in disarray.
Why? Why is this happening?
Her fist clenched tight.
Her nails dug into her palm until blood welled.
A knock broke the silence.
“My lady. There is… a visitor waiting in the stables.”
The maid’s voice quavered with fear.
