The Villainess …………………………………..
“This ball was the worst. Truly disappointing in so many ways.”
Several days had already passed since the imperial ball ended. Grace Platt murmured as she quietly set her teacup down. At her words, the mood in the drawing room instantly grew somber.
Grace Platt had recently been jilted. And since it was by a man she had been engaged to, “jilted” hardly covered the humiliation.
Though the wedding hadn’t yet taken place, Grace had long acted as if she were already a countess—her fiancé’s rank giving her a sense of borrowed nobility.
That wasn’t all. She was forever boasting about how many villas her fiancé owned or what fine breed of horse he had recently purchased.
And now, she was once again merely a baronet’s daughter. No wonder her pride must have stung like an open wound.
“Anje Beaufort as ‘Lady of the Year’? Can you believe it? And it’s not just because I didn’t win.”
“Well… it was surprising that Lady Hildegard wasn’t chosen. Before the season began, everyone predicted that she’d be the one to win the title, didn’t they?”
At the remark, made in agreement, Grace’s brow furrowed deeply.
“Exactly! Of all people, they passed over Lady Hildegard to choose that country bumpkin, Anje Beaufort. Has everyone lost their senses? You all know what kind of behavior she displayed throughout the ball, don’t you?”
She had spoken, fully expecting everyone to agree and begin criticizing Anje. But instead, someone let out a light, amused laugh.
“It was interesting, wasn’t it? They say the spring ball is basically a matchmaking contest. But instead of flirting with eligible partners, she was giving out relationship advice! And not the usual kind of matchmaking either—she’d tell people, ‘This man’s no good because of this,’ or, ‘That man’s actually decent because of that.’ Honestly, I rather liked it. Even the madams aren’t that honest, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Lady Dolores?”
Grace’s tone carried a clear warning, but Dolores pretended not to notice and continued.
“The madams only say nice things about families they’re acquainted with—never mention the flaws, just to make a few coins. But Lady Anje Beaufort? She’s refreshingly straightforward.”
“So, are you saying the madams lie for money? That’s quite rude, my lady!”
“Well, good intentions or not, a lie’s still a lie. Haven’t we all been deceived by them once or twice? You know—being told a man was an innocent scholar when he actually had a mistress, or that a family owned a gold mine when in truth not even a speck of coal came out of it.”
Several women nodded at Dolores’s words.
Dolores Midler, encouraged, looked at Grace with smug amusement.
If only she hadn’t been so arrogant, she might have noticed her fiancé’s affection fading, little by little.
Grace’s greatest flaw was that she only saw and heard what she wanted to.
Now, she was furious at Anje Beaufort, as though the woman were to blame for her broken engagement—but everyone knew that relationship had been crumbling for quite some time.
The tragedy was simply that Grace herself had been the last to realize it.
“And how does she know so much about all those men? For someone fresh from the countryside, she’s surprisingly observant—and quick-witted, too. How about we invite Lady Anje Beaufort to our next gathering? She seems like a delightful guest.”
“What a splendid idea.”
The voice belonged to Hildegard.
Grace turned to her in disbelief—Hildegard, whom she’d thought was on her side, had just agreed with Dolores.
“Hildegard! You can’t be serious about inviting her!”
“But you heard them, Grace. They say she’s clever and entertaining—why not? I admit, I was curious too. During the ball, there was always such a line of people waiting to speak with her. It was like watching moths drawn to a flame. Frankly, I think her being chosen as ‘Lady of the Year’ makes perfect sense.”
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
Hildegard set down her teacup, the old saying passing through her mind.
“Shall we take that as agreement, then?”
But despite her bright tone, the other ladies only exchanged uncertain glances. No one could be sure of Hildegard’s true intentions.
After all, when she had once suggested inviting Mariana Syde, she had sounded just as pleasant and kind.
Yet when Mariana actually attended, Hildegard subtly insulted her, ignored her remarks, and made her feel unwelcome. No one had dared interfere—out of respect for the Marquess of Crow—but it had left everyone uneasy.
“Well, if Hildegard insists…”
Grace finally spoke when the others remained silent.
She still detested Anje Beaufort more than anyone, but as she said—if Hildegard wanted it, what choice did they have?
“I don’t see why we need to invite that vixen—a woman who breaks up couples with baseless gossip instead of helping them toward the beautiful union of marriage. Not to mention, she’s hardly of a station befitting this circle.”
Even so, Grace couldn’t resist spitting out one last bit of venom.
“Grace.”
Hildegard’s reprimand came sharp and low.
Grace flinched and fell silent. Hildegard then turned her calm, assessing gaze upon each of the young ladies gathered at the table.
“You all agree, then?”
“Yes… of course.”
Would disagreeing even matter? Seeing Grace pressed into silence, the other ladies nodded as well. None of them wished to cause unnecessary trouble.
“Anje, what are you doing?”
“Packing my things, my lady.”
At Anje’s answer, Mariana’s eyes widened.
“Packing? Why? Don’t tell me my brother dismissed you!”
“I almost wish that were the case. But no.”
“Then why are you packing?”
“It’s time for me to return to my proper place.”
Even as they spoke, Anje continued neatly folding her clothes and personal items into a travel bag.
Unable to stand it any longer, Mariana pushed her aside and snatched the bag from her hands.
“What are you talking about? Explain yourself properly—and stop packing!”
Mariana shut the bag firmly and sat on it, arms crossed.
“My lady, please give that back.”
“…”
“Please.”
“…”
Seeing Mariana’s stubborn silence, Anje let out a quiet sigh.
“The ball is over, and thankfully Ahandel has been recovered. It’s only right that I return to my original quarters. This is your room, my lady. If I stay longer, the servants might say I’m being shown favoritism—or worse, start spreading rumors. I’d rather move back before that happens.”
“Why? Has anyone said anything?”
“No. Everyone’s been perfectly kind. But still, it’s better to be cautious.”
“Mother didn’t tell you to move, did she? Then it should be fine to stay, shouldn’t it?”
It had only been a month, but Mariana had grown used to having Anje’s room right next to hers. She liked it that way.
Since her adoption, everyone in the ducal household—the late duke, the dowager duchess, the current Duke Syde, even the servants—had treated her with kindness and respect.
And yet, Mariana had always felt a quiet loneliness.
Her brother, the duke, was caring but busy; unlike a sister or a close friend, he wasn’t someone she could confide in.
The late duke had been stern, and though the dowager duchess had showered her with affection, Mariana had never been able to open her heart completely.
And at the academy? She’d known all too well that the girls who smiled at her in person whispered behind her back, calling her a fake lady.
For all the subtle bullying and quiet exclusion she endured, Mariana hadn’t fought back—not because she was weak or naive, but because she believed… they weren’t entirely wrong.
Yes, she had been adopted into a ducal family—but she was still the daughter of a fallen baron.
The finer her dress, the more expensive her jewels, the more it felt like she was living a lie.
