CHAPTER 58……………………………………
. The Invitation
“It’s not really something to brag about, but Miss Beaufort volunteers every weekend in the slums, handing out free bread.”
“Not something to brag about? My goodness, that’s truly admirable. It’s easy to talk about helping others, but most people find it bothersome to actually do it.”
At Hildegard’s praise, Amber Beaufort blushed again.
As the youngest lady in the group, Amber was always self-conscious and eager to be seen in a good light. So Hildegard’s compliment—her recognition—made her shoulders lift with pride.
“But then, I saw something strange there.”
“What did you see?”
“Well… I could hardly believe my eyes myself, but I’m telling you—it was Count Martin.”
“Count Martin?”
At Amber’s words, everyone turned toward Hildegard, their eyes silently asking whether she knew anything.
But when Hildegard frowned slightly, they all realized their mistake and quickly looked away, pretending to clear their throats.
They suddenly remembered how, at every gathering, Hildegard had emphasized that the duke’s absence from the last ball had been unavoidable—he had simply been far too busy.
“You must have mistaken someone else for him. Count Martin has gone abroad again.”
“But…”
His appearance had changed, yes—but she was certain it was Count Martin. She had once secretly admired him; there was no way she could be mistaken.
Amber furrowed her brow, tilting her head.
“He looked thin, dressed like a beggar, and was limping. But it was definitely him. I couldn’t have been mistaken.”
“Miss Beaufort.”
Hildegard spoke her name softly, like soothing a child, and let out a faint sigh.
Amber shrank back at the gentle rebuke.
“Count Martin was at a ball with me not long ago. Do you really think a man like that would be wandering the slums in rags, begging for coins? It’s quite unimaginable.”
“But…”
When Amber bit her lip and frowned, Hildegard’s calm, coaxing voice returned.
“If you were so certain, why didn’t you speak to him?”
“I was going to, but the moment our eyes met, he turned and limped away as fast as he could. That’s what made it even more suspicious.”
“Just a few days ago,” Hildegard said, straightening her back and glancing around the group with a composed smile, “Count Martin sent my grandfather a letter from abroad saying he had arrived safely. My grandfather’s been too busy lately, so I was sorting his letters for him when I found it. It wasn’t addressed to me, so I can’t show it to you, but…”
“Miss Beaufort, really, you mustn’t come here spreading nonsense after seeing something odd,” Grace interrupted sharply.
“Are you sure you really saw him?”
He had looked terribly gaunt and shabby, yes—but could she really have been mistaken? The mood, however, had already turned against her. If she insisted any further, she would surely not be invited to the next gathering.
Amber remembered her mother’s advice: Please, dear, be sure to stay on Lady Hildegard’s good side.
She dropped her gaze in resignation.
“…Perhaps I was mistaken after all. Count Martin couldn’t possibly be in such a state.”
She prayed that she had been mistaken. The thought of the man she once admired wandering the slums like that made her chest ache.
“Of course. Naturally.”
The murmurs of agreement rippled around the table, and Hildegard’s lips curved into a satisfied smile.
“Milady, your guests have arrived,” a servant announced.
Finally. A cool smile flashed across Hildegard’s eyes.
“But, my lady, there’s someone else with them—someone not on the guest list.”
“Who?”
Before the servant could answer, there was a commotion at the entrance of the greenhouse. Davi, lavishly dressed, made a grand entrance.
And right behind him, Hildegard’s eyes widened at the sight of Duke Saide.
She had invited him many times before, but he’d always declined, claiming to be too busy. What brought him here today? Could it be because of Count Martin—the ball they had attended together?
Hildegard was just about to greet the duke with her brightest smile when—
He turned slightly, and she saw the woman following behind him.
Anje Beaufort, wrapped in a softly shimmering gray dress, looked elegant even by Hildegard’s exacting standards.
But when Hildegard noticed the delicate hand resting on the duke’s arm, her expression instantly cooled.
Of course, it was proper etiquette for a gentleman to offer his arm—but Anje Beaufort was not a lady. She was merely a servant.
Hildegard didn’t even notice that on the duke’s other arm, Mariana was doing the same.
“Do you suppose His Grace came all this way for Miss Mariana… or for Anje Beaufort?”
A quiet whisper carried clearly to Hildegard’s ears.
Her cold eyes swept the room, and everyone immediately averted their gazes.
“His Majesty sent me to ask why you haven’t been visiting the palace lately,” Davi said as he approached, handing his gifts to a nearby servant.
“The royal chef created a new dessert full of grapefruit—His Majesty adores tart flavors. He thought of you, my lady, and sent it as a gift.”
“Please thank His Majesty on my behalf,” Hildegard replied smoothly.
“Why not visit the palace yourself and deliver your thanks in person next time?” Davi suggested lightly.
Ignoring the remark, Hildegard gestured toward a seat. “Please, have a seat here.”
Davi obeyed without protest, sitting where she indicated.
“Did you all know that sour flavors are said to be good for the skin?” Davi said cheerfully.
At his words, the ladies’ attention turned to the box on the table.
While one servant hurried off to fetch plates, another carefully began unpacking the contents.
Cries of delight erupted when they saw the grapefruit glistening among layers of rich cream.
“Why can’t our household chef come up with ideas like this?” someone sighed.
“Well, because he’s not the imperial chef, obviously. If he could make something like this, you’d probably be starving by now, dear,” another teased.
“Would I, though?”
Laughter rippled through the group. When it finally subsided, Hildegard composed her expression and turned to Davi.
“As always, the merchant guild must be quite busy after a royal event. Still, it’s lovely to see you.”
Davi smiled and gestured toward the duke.
“Ran into His Grace just outside the estate. I thought he was on his way to see his fiancée, but…”
He paused, glancing meaningfully from Anje to Mariana.
“…it seems he was escorting these ladies instead.”
“I don’t recall ever being engaged,” the duke said quietly, but his voice carried clearly across the table.
A few of the ladies exchanged glances. Hildegard’s face stiffened.
Mariana nudged her brother’s arm playfully.
“But you will be soon, won’t you? Isn’t that right, Hildegard?”
Hildegard shot Davi an irritated look.
He was sharp enough to sense the duke’s reluctance to discuss the supposed engagement—so why was he deliberately provoking him?
If the duke took offense and acted rashly, who would bear the consequences?
“What a lovely-looking cake,” Anje said just in time, preventing Hildegard from snapping at Davi.
“It’s a special cake made for Lady Hildegard by His Majesty himself,” Davi explained. “The royal chef put in extra care. Ah, I should introduce myself—Davi. I advise His Majesty on various matters.”
“Anje Beaufort,” she replied.
“I know. Your reputation for competence has reached even the palace. I’m delighted to finally meet you.”
He reached for her hand, intending to kiss it—but the duke smoothly stepped between them, brushing her hand aside before Davi could touch it.
Davi shot him a puzzled look.
“A busy man like you—what brings you here today?”
“As you can see,” the duke said with a crooked smile, “I’m delivering dessert.”
“When did His Majesty’s advisor become a cake courier?”
