Chapter 38
The Banquet
“Smile.”
At the firm, almost commanding tone, Anje instinctively lifted the corners of her lips.
“Remember this, child. The one who never loses their smile is the one who wins. Everyone here—especially those whispering over there—are beneath you. Why do you think they act like that?”
The Grand Duchess hugged Anje for all to see and whispered in her ear.
“It’s jealousy, of course.”
Wearing a playful smile, the Grand Duchess linked arms with her.
“Until the banquet begins, I’m borrowing this child. That’s all right, isn’t it?”
The fleeting disappointment that crossed the Duke’s face at her proposal was surely feigned.
After studying Anje’s expression for a moment, the Duke simply nodded.
“Of course, Mother.”
“Come along, Anje. There are many people I want you to meet.”
Guiding her toward a corner where elderly ladies had gathered, the Grand Duchess murmured again.
“Relax. These ladies are the true elders of society. They’ve stepped back from the spotlight now, but they are not to be underestimated. With their experience comes discretion, and for someone new to the social scene like you, their advice will be invaluable.”
Just as she said, the older women greeted Anje with warm smiles rather than shallow curiosity.
Recalling the etiquette her mother had taught her for greeting elders, Anje gave a graceful bow at the proper angle instead of the usual light curtsy. Someone let out a soft exclamation.
“To think there’s still a young lady who remembers that old greeting.”
Surprised by the remark, Anje rolled her eyes upward while still bowing.
Did that mean no one used this style anymore?
Well, it was an etiquette from her mother’s generation in society—times change, after all.
Her foot had just started to go numb when a countess spoke.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Anje. I’m the Countess Franchet. Long ago, everyone used to greet their elders so carefully, just as you did…”
Her voice trailed off with a hint of wistfulness.
“These days, the young ladies act as if we’re covered in germs, too busy avoiding us. Such a pity. We’re not so different from them at heart. In fact, we could give plenty of advice about romance. Isn’t that right, Baroness?”
The Countess gave a mischievous wink and playfully nudged the woman beside her with a fan.
The quiet, gentle-looking baroness quickly nodded.
“Indeed. We may be old and wrinkled now, but once we had our glorious days too. Ask us anything—especially about men.”
Contrary to her demure appearance, the baroness spoke teasingly.
“How improper! Scandalous.”
The ladies burst into laughter and patted Anje’s shoulder.
“Don’t mind what people say. It’s just jealousy. Imagine—a man once considered every woman’s dream shows up with a woman at his side. Who wouldn’t envy that?”
The Grand Duchess frowned at that.
“Every woman’s dream? Hardly. He’s my son, yes, but he’s so aloof and stiff—nothing like his father. If they knew the truth, they’d all run. It’s only because of this child that he came with someone at all. Just look at Lady Crowe—she wisely found another man early on.”
Her words silenced the group. Into the brief hush came the servant’s announcement:
“Lady Crowe and Count Martin have arrived!”
“Speak of the fox and she appears,” the Grand Duchess thought, her gaze cooling as she turned toward the entrance.
Hildegard swept in, half her long golden hair braided and crowned with fresh flowers, the rest cascading like a shimmering wave down her back. Her sheer silk gown revealed glimpses of a graceful silhouette.
Count Martin was handsome enough, but beside Hildegard he seemed merely a prop to highlight her beauty.
“How elegant.”
“I heard the late young marquess was strikingly handsome. They say Lady Crowe so resembles him that the marquis recognized his granddaughter at a glance.”
The same group of young ladies who had mocked Anje upon her arrival now gushed over Hildegard.
Watching from a distance, Anje found herself nodding.
Indeed, with her violet eyes and golden hair, Hildegard was the very image of the father Anje remembered.
Ironically, Anje herself had plain black hair and eyes.
Unable to keep looking, she lowered her head.
The banquet hadn’t even begun, yet Anje already knew she could never outshine Hildegard.
A bitter taste of defeat rose in her throat.
“Not even a bridesmaid—how annoying!”
“Hm?”
Amid the chorus of admiration, Anje almost thought she’d imagined the mutter.
Had she spoken without realizing it?
“What a waste every year. They all flock here dressed like crazed peacocks. If they used this money to help the poor, no one would starve. Fine, fine—have your gathering, but why not leave people like me out of it?”
Following the grumbling voice, Anje turned and met a young woman’s eyes.
“Don’t you think so?”
“Ah—well…”
Before Anje could find a response, the young woman extended a hand.
Wasn’t that a gentleman’s gesture? After a beat of hesitation, Anje accepted it.
“I’m Ollie—short for Olivia. Countess Franchet is my grandmother.”
The girl’s chestnut hair was loosely braided to one side and tied with a ribbon. She shook Anje’s hand with a friendly grin.
The Countess clicked her tongue when she noticed her granddaughter.
The other ladies only smiled faintly, clearly accustomed to Ollie’s unconventional manners.
“You can’t possibly enjoy this endless charade—same place every year, the same empty pleasantries. Oh! But this is your first royal banquet, Lady Beaufort, so maybe it still feels exciting?”
Though her words bent the rules of etiquette, there was no malice in them.
Ah, a strong-willed star shines in her chart, Anje thought with a small smile.
In the old days, scholars used to say that a woman born under such a sign would overpower men and thus be undesirable, but Anje had always disagreed.
That star signified the “leader of heaven.”
Why should only men bear that title in this day and age?
People with this sign were said to be caught in the “net of heaven and earth,” storing tremendous energy within.
Independent and stubborn—others might find her difficult, Anje mused, her smile widening.
Ollie had remarkable potential.
“You, where have you left Sir Jeremy?”
As Hildegard and Count Martin descended the grand staircase and mingled with the crowd, Countess Franchet suddenly remembered her granddaughter and scolded her.
“Is Sir Jeremy a child that I must lead him by the hand?”
Ollie muttered, avoiding her grandmother’s eyes.
Her rapid blinking suggested there was more to the story, but Anje wisely stayed silent.
“Don’t forget you’re long overdue to marry, Ollie. Even my support has limits. What’s wrong with Sir Jeremy this time…?”
Realizing the attention they were attracting, the Countess bit back further scolding.
“We’ll discuss this at home.”
When the countess and the other ladies departed for the lounge, Ollie exhaled a long sigh.
“I could suffocate. They all rave about love, yet they’re desperate to tie me to someone I don’t care for. I must have been found under the palace bell tower.”
“For someone supposedly found under a bell tower, it’s clear the countess adores her granddaughter,” Anje said, snagging a glass of strawberry punch from a passing servant and offering it.
“Thanks.”
“So what don’t you like about Sir Jeremy?”
Anje had already given up on winning “Lady of the Year.”
Beating not just Hildegard but all the beauties here? Impossible.
She glanced across the room at Duke Syde, deep in conversation with a group of gentlemen, and pouted.
When she was by his side, even that absurd bet had felt winnable.
But standing here alone, reality came sharply into focus.
