Chapter 15
Chapter 15 – The Tea Party
Even the young lady being courted for marriage doubted her, so of course a complete stranger like Anje would too.
Reminded of her humble position as nothing more than an information broker, Anje put on a polite expression.
“So, what exactly would you like me to do?”
After climbing only a couple of steps, a hallway surrounded entirely by gray marble appeared.
Elliot quickened his pace and pushed open an ebony door at the end of the corridor, revealing a large room with several desks.
“I’ll explain that in a moment. More importantly, this is where you’ll be working from now on. The next room is His Grace’s office.”
“Where is everyone else?”
Noticing the messy desks and chairs left empty in disarray, Anje asked with a puzzled look.
“They’re out handling their tasks somewhere. Certain someone insists that while the sun is up, everyone should be on their feet instead of clinging to paperwork, so they’re all working hard.”
“Isn’t that only natural?”
Joseph, glancing over the documents strewn on a desk, frowned.
“Do you think I put them here just to sit? They must check and double-check every number on those papers. Who knows who might tamper with them.”
“Still, these aides are the future heads of noble families. Go easy, or they might run away.”
Half joking, half serious, Elliot spoke, and Joseph gave a dismissive snort.
“Let them. Anyone with such a small capacity isn’t worth keeping.”
The deadly aura from the duke made Anje swallow hard.
When she was with Elliot alone, the assignment had felt manageable, but the duke’s presence suddenly made it seem absurdly difficult.
Someone might even have slept here—there was a blanket on the floor, a lone cushion on a chair, and neatly arranged toiletries in the corner.
Scanning the room, Anje’s eyes finally drifted to the window.
Her chest tightened as if she were looking at her own future.
Even for an undercover job, why this position, of all things—an aide?
She couldn’t cook, but there were chefs. She killed every plant she touched, but she could have been a gardener. She was hopeless at sewing, but maybe a seamstress’s assistant…
Anje let out a deep sigh.
Aside from reading fortunes, I’m not really good at anything. Should I just quit before it’s too late?
As she glanced toward the door, debating escape, a short knock interrupted her thoughts.
“Your Grace, I’ve brought what you requested.”
“Come in.”
A butler entered carefully, carrying a small ornate box.
“Leave it and go.”
The moment the butler set it down and left, Elliot stepped closer, curious.
“Isn’t this cake from Bouchon? I heard you have to reserve it and wait a month.”
“A month for a single slice of cake—ridiculous.”
Joseph omitted the part about paying a fortune to people who had queued since dawn and looked at Anje.
“On the way back I saw a shop with a long line. They say young ladies love it, so I thought Mariana might as well.”
“Lady Hildegard will be pleased, too. And the duchess will be delighted to know how thoughtful you are.”
The duke shot Elliot an annoyed glance as he interjected.
“Oh, that’s right—Your Grace completely forgot about the young lady’s visit, didn’t you? Don’t worry, I won’t tell the duchess.”
Elliot couldn’t resist adding that last tease.
Joseph clicked his tongue, and only then did Elliot mime zipping his lips.
“This cake was meant for Mariana, but it’ll serve another purpose. Take this box to the tea party later. Watch for anyone who might be rude to her.”
“Yes, understood,” Anje replied meekly, eyes lowered.
It was an almost overprotective request for a twenty-five-year-old younger sister—one who was practically a stranger—but as a mere employee, Anje had no right to object.
“Please wait here for a moment.”
Stepping into the greenhouse, Anje’s eyes widened.
The vibrant scent of flowers rushed toward her the moment the door opened, and the air was so warm she almost forgot it was winter.
She looked up to see the soaring glass ceiling overhead.
Among the tall trees, colorful birds flitted about. Then soft laughter and lively conversation reached her ears.
“Pardon the interruption, but Lady Anje, His Grace’s aide, requests an audience.”
The chatter stopped instantly, silence settling over the gathering.
Across the table, sharp glances were exchanged before someone finally spoke—the first voice belonged to Hildegard of the Marquess of Crow.
“If I heard correctly, she was addressed as lady? The ducal house employs a female aide?”
“Yes. I’ve been told His Grace specially appointed her for her exceptional abilities.”
Exceptional abilities? Special appointment?
The maid’s words, completely untrue, made Anje curl her fingers into a fist.
“Is she truly that remarkable? Odd—I don’t recall that name from the academy. Oh, dear, where are my manners. Please show her in.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The maid withdrew and soon returned with a young woman in a plain black dress, carrying a box marked with the name of a famous patisserie.
Every gaze turned toward Anje.
They took in her slim figure, bare face, the modest mid-length black dress, and the bony ankles showing above simple, almost clumsy black shoes.
“Pfft!”
A muffled laugh broke the silence, and several heads turned toward the sound.
One young lady quickly snapped open her fan to hide her face and said lightly, almost as an excuse,
“Forgive me. I was nervous, thinking someone personally chosen by His Grace must be extraordinary. But…well, she’s rather different from what I imagined.”
A female aide—so what? What exactly were you expecting?
Anje’s eyes darkened as she kept her head bowed.
“How rude, Delevine. A person is not to be judged by appearance,” a cool voice cut in.
Anje looked up to see the speaker—a young lady with long, wavy blond hair down to her waist, flawless porcelain skin, and delicately balanced features that drew every eye.
Her presence was striking, her demeanor commanding.
She could only be Hildegard.
A flicker of surprise crossed Anje’s gaze as she discreetly read the pink characters of Hildegard’s astrological chart floating above her head.
So much “authority” energy…
Anje had expected the beloved heroine of this world to have a flawless destiny, but Hildegard’s chart overflowed with the difficult element of Authority, signaling obstacles to overcome.
A childhood in an orphanage—of course parental blessings were lacking.
To outsiders, Hildegard seemed to have triumphed—an orphan who became the official heir to the Crow Marquisate—but Anje knew better.
The marquess himself was a man who ignored even his own son for being weak and inept.
Even without remembering the contempt and abuse that the marquess had heaped on her in the original story, Anje had no desire to seek out the father who had driven his son to death. She would rather die in the slums than face him.
Perhaps Anje’s refusal had changed the story’s course.
Hildegard, who should have barely graduated the academy and joined a merchant guild, now stood as the marquess’s granddaughter.
Turning her gaze, Anje studied the young woman seated like a shadow beside Hildegard.
A distant relative of the ducal family, she shared Joseph’s silver hair and pale, winter-sky blue eyes.
Their resemblance caught Anje’s attention, but Mariana turned away as if to avoid her.
“I’m Hildegard of the Crow Marquisate. Please, have a seat.”
Hildegard’s warm invitation to the still-standing Anje carried the easy authority of a natural hostess—so different from Mariana, who sat silent as a stone despite being the actual focus of the gathering.
Any trace of ducal dignity was nowhere to be found.
Disappointed, Anje subtly raised her eyes again to examine Mariana’s destiny chart.
