Chapter 35
Early Morning
It was early morning.
As the maid helped the Marchioness of Redwood with her toilette, she applied cream to her face and said cheerfully,
“My lady, your skin feels incredibly smooth today.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, my lady. You must be at peace these days. You look at least five—no, ten years younger.”
“Hoho, you flatter me.”
The Marchioness laughed heartily at the maid’s obsequious words. And indeed, she was in an excellent mood lately. After twenty long years of irritation, like a thorn under her fingernail, she was finally about to drive that nuisance Diane out of the house once and for all.
Her husband might still be displeased that Diane’s engagement to Grand Duke Grant had fallen apart, but the Marchioness didn’t care in the slightest. No matter how politically advantageous that marriage might have been, she couldn’t bear the thought of that lowborn girl strutting around as a Grand Duchess with her head held high.
“It won’t be long now, will it?”
The maid asked slyly. The Marchioness nodded with satisfaction.
“No, not long at all. Less than a month, I’d say. I’ve already told the Marquis that I’ll send her off to a convent far, far from the capital—so far that we’ll never have to see her again as long as we live.”
She had always dismissed any pretty servant the moment her husband’s wandering eyes lingered too long. But Diane’s mother—who had done the laundry and scrubbed pots—had slipped through her notice. The woman had always kept her head bowed low, so the Marchioness had never imagined she might possess any beauty worth noticing.
Just thinking of Diane’s dead mother made the Marchioness’s brow crease with distaste.
“Don’t frown, my lady,” whispered the maid. “She’s not worth a single wrinkle on your face.”
The Marchioness took a deep breath, then smiled again.
“You’re right. I mustn’t let such filth spoil my mood. What’s on my schedule today?”
“Yes, my lady. This morning you’re to attend the Countess Septembre’s reading circle, and afterward—”
Then—
“My lady! My lady, it’s terrible!”
A voice shouted from down the hall, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. The butler appeared at the open door, pale as a ghost.
“What on earth is it now?”
“A g–guest…! Huff… I mean, guests—”
“Guests? Were we expecting anyone today?”
The Marchioness glanced at her maid, who shook her head quickly. There were no scheduled visitors.
“They weren’t invited, my lady. And… there are several of them.”
The Marchioness frowned. “Several”? That was odd.
“Explain yourself properly,” she demanded.
The butler gulped air and stammered,
“They’ve come… to propose to Lady Diane!”
“Propose? Proposals, you say? What are you talking about?”
“Please come quickly, my lady. They’re all waiting in the front hall for you and the Marquis!”
Saying he must report to the Marquis at once, the butler scurried off. The bewildered Marchioness rose to her feet and hurried out.
When she reached the landing overlooking the entrance hall, she froze in shock.
One, two, five, ten… there were more than ten men standing there, talking amongst themselves.
One of them looked up, spotted her descending the stairs, and called out loudly,
“Marchioness!”
At once, twenty pairs of eyes turned toward her.
She forced a polite smile and continued down the stairs, though her mind raced. She recognized nearly every face there—sons of powerful noble families all.
What on earth are these people doing here?
Before she could ask, one of the men stepped forward and bowed. He wore the crimson uniform of the Royal Guard—a man the Marchioness knew by sight.
He was strikingly handsome, his bright golden hair shining like sunlight and his blue eyes gleaming. He smiled, and the Marchioness found herself momentarily breathless. He was young enough to be her son, yet his beauty was disarming.
“Good morning. I am Leo, second son of Count Bonaparte. It’s an honor to meet you, Marchioness.”
“Ah… yes, well, how do you do.”
Trying to hide her fluster, she offered her hand, which he kissed gracefully.
“We came to call upon the Marquis,” he explained, “but we’ve received no word of him yet. Will he be long?”
“Oh, ah… the Marquis isn’t up yet,” she said awkwardly. It was early morning, hardly an hour for visitors—and her husband was almost certainly still asleep.
Then she realized with horror that she had only face cream on—no powder, no paint. She turned sharply away, covering her face with her hand.
“Please wait here a moment. I’ll go inform the Marquis myself.”
“Thank you kindly, my lady.”
As she hurried up the stairs, the men exchanged amused glances, as though sharing some private joke.
The Marchioness, of course, had no idea.
Half an hour later
“Hm. Quite the spectacle, isn’t it?”
By the time the Marquis descended, about thirty minutes had passed.
What he saw made him purse his lips. According to his wife and butler, there had been around ten visitors. But now nearly twenty young men filled his entrance hall.
All of them were sons of distinguished families.
This is strange indeed.
He distinctly remembered how each of these families had turned down the idea of marrying Diane when he’d approached them. Yet now they were all clamoring to propose?
Still, it wasn’t necessarily bad news. Stroking his mustache, the Marquis allowed himself a smug smile.
Well, well. Men are simple creatures. Beauty can be as valuable as noble blood.
He had carefully concealed Diane’s parentage. Within the estate, rumors persisted that she might be a servant’s child—but to the outside world, she was presented as nothing less than a respectable young lady of the house.
“So,” he said grandly, “you’re here to propose to my daughter?”
Among them, Leo Bonaparte stood out most—the deputy commander of the Imperial Guard, from a family as illustrious as his looks.
“Yes, sir,” Leo said, smiling.
“And yet, I believe you’ve never even met her?”
The Marquis narrowed his eyes, trying to read the young man’s intent. But Leo’s pleasant smile betrayed nothing.
“Ahem! Very well. Let’s talk inside.”
Moments later, shouting erupted from the study.
“Get out! Out, I say! Thieving scoundrel!”
The Marquis’s bellow echoed down the hall. The young men waiting outside exchanged knowing smirks.
Leo emerged soon after, unruffled.
“I heard you’re a very devoted father, Marquis,” he said lightly. “I see the rumors were true.”
“Get out! Out of my sight!”
Leo bowed politely and withdrew.
The same scene repeated nearly twenty times as each suitor took his turn in the study, only to be shouted out moments later.
When the last of them had finally gone, the Marquis stood trembling with fury, his face red and blotchy.
The Marchioness, having just seen off the final guest, rushed to his side.
“Darling, whatever is the matter? Isn’t this what you wanted? So many fine suitors!”
After all, it had been his idea to find Diane a match instead of sending her to a convent.
“Why are you so angry when there are so many good candidates?”
“Good candidates? Ha! Thieving bastards, all of them!”
He hurled his teacup at the wall, where it shattered with a crash. The butler came running with a broom, startled.
“Thieves? But they’re all from noble families,” said the Marchioness, baffled.
She began mentally sorting through which families would bring the best political advantage—not for Diane’s sake, of course, but for their sons’ advancement.
“You can say that because you didn’t hear what they asked for!” the Marquis roared.
The Marchioness stamped her foot impatiently.
“Then what did they say?”
Grinding his teeth, the Marquis spat out,
“They all demanded I increase Diane’s dowry fivefold!”
The Marchioness’s mouth fell open in shock, her expression blank—as though she couldn’t quite process what she had just heard.
