Chapter 15
That Kind of Misunderstanding Didn’t Matter
I was currently on my way to the boutique. I had used the visit as an excuse to leave the ducal residence.
I had learned something new about Cedric and Rachel. I had always wondered why their relationship never seemed to progress, even though the two clearly seemed interested in each other. It turns out, there was another reason—perhaps it wasn’t just that they were inexperienced with romance.
“Your Grace, have you ever dated before?”
“Yes.”
A few days ago, I had somehow ended up asking Duke Dayton about his romantic history.
I remembered thinking he seemed to be sinking emotionally. If I considered the context, there was absolutely no reason for romance to come to mind.
Yet in that moment, I assumed what he said must have had something to do with an old romance—and I impulsively asked.
Impulsively. Such a foreign word for someone like me, a lady, a princess—someone who understood patience and restraint.
Honestly, it wasn’t hard to imagine someone as handsome as Cedric having dated before. As one of the empire’s few dukes and the head of an ancient noble family, he must have had many ladies eager to have a wonderful romance with him.
I didn’t know how noble romances unfolded in Owen, but I doubted the world would simply leave someone as perfect as Cedric alone.
But the way he’d said he had dated before—that was the problem.
When he answered that he’d had a lover, his expression had been the heaviest and the most vivid I had ever seen on his face. I never imagined “heavy” and “vivid” could describe someone at the same time.
Was Cedric unable to start something new with Rachel because of memories of a former lover? Was that why he didn’t push her away when she approached, and why he thought of her—but couldn’t actively pursue her?
Goodness. What a sinful man. To pine for an old lover while having feelings for a new one.
Showing such a face, behaving so vaguely—that was bad behavior! Even someone like me, who had neither dated nor read romance novels, knew that much.
Cedric was a bad man! That was the conclusion I reached. In an instant, Cedric transformed from a complicated man into a sinful man, and finally into a bad man.
But that was that, and my embarrassment was my embarrassment.
To ask someone so directly about something so personal—so improper. And for it to be about romance… decidedly unladylike. As a princess of the dignified Kingdom of Lundra, I felt a mix of humiliation and shame.
The carriage came to a stop. When I climbed out, I saw a boutique decorated far more lavishly than the surrounding buildings. Madam Knox, the head maid, had mentioned that it was one of the boutiques frequently visited by aristocrats in the capital, Arsen.
I looked at the knights escorting me—Sir Leo Mathis and Sir Caris Diego, members of the royal knight order who had accompanied me to Owen.
“Sir Mathis, do you like shopping?”
“I can’t say I’m fond of it.”
Sir Mathis, dressed in simple ivory and brown, spoke bluntly. From his plain attire, it was obvious he had no interest in clothes covered in decorative frills.
I turned to Sir Diego.
“I don’t particularly enjoy shopping either.”
Sir Diego, dressed entirely in black, answered in the same tone.
“Only one of you needs to accompany me inside.”
“I will go with you.”
Sir Mathis volunteered.
“All right. Sir Diego, won’t it be boring waiting alone?”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about me—please enjoy your shopping!”
Sir Diego saluted in Lundran fashion, his movements brisk. Leaving him behind, I entered the boutique with Sir Mathis, who held open the door for me.
“Welcome to Lara Boutique. Do you have a reservation? If you tell me your household, I can confirm immediately.”
“Hello. I don’t have a reservation.”
If I didn’t give my family name, they might assume I was a wealthy commoner—but I didn’t mind the misunderstanding. I was only here to buy clothes; there was no need to reveal my identity.
More than that, it simply felt awkward to declare my status to strangers. In Lundra, everyone already knew me and greeted me first.
“Are you looking for a particular style or designer?”
“No specific designer. I’d like to see dresses suitable for a tea party.”
I recalled the invitation Grace had mentioned—Mary’s tea party. Since it was an Owen noble’s gathering, an Owen-style dress seemed appropriate.
Though the styles of Lundra and Owen looked similar at a glance, the details differed considerably—differences any fashion-conscious lady would easily notice.
“This way, please.”
The staff member guided us. While walking, I glanced around; the first floor only displayed a few extravagant gowns meant for large banquets.
“Sir Mathis. Don’t call me Princess in here.”
“Yes, understood.”
I whispered in a voice too soft for the staff to hear. Since she would assume I was a commoner, I wanted our stories to match.
“You must be from the Kingdom of Lundra.”
The staff member, walking ahead, spoke. Making casual conversation, as customer service required.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Your pronunciation is very round and soft. Very cute.”
At the turn of the stairs, I caught her profile—she was smiling.
The three kingdoms—Lundra, Owen, and Roneis—shared a common language, which was why living in Owen was so easy for me.
But since the borders were drawn long ago, each nation’s speech had developed slight differences. It was easy to tell someone’s origin just from hearing them speak.
Following the staff’s instructions, we reached the second floor—a wide, open space with stools placed in the center, and portable racks of dresses scattered around.
“Please look around and call a staff member if you find a design you like. We’ll help you try it on. Each item is displayed in only one size. If it suits you after you try it, we will assist with the purchase.”
“Thank you for the kind explanation.”
She meant I could browse freely. I smiled, and she bowed lightly before returning downstairs.
In Lundra, designers came to the palace whenever I needed clothes. Choosing outfits freely by walking among the racks felt refreshingly new—and exciting.
I approached the nearest rack filled with light-colored dresses.
“If you choose a dress, I will hold it for you.”
“Thank you, I’ll ask if I need help.”
I reached for a bright green dress. It was bulky and hung high on the rack; taking it down alone was difficult. I had said I’d ask for help if needed, and almost immediately, I needed Sir Mathis.
“Sir, please.”
Sir Mathis retrieved the dress. The color was lovely, but the fabric was disappointing. The design was simpler than what I usually wore. I didn’t need anything extravagant, but designs that were intentionally simple felt lacking if the intent wasn’t clear.
“You can put it back. Thank you.”
We continued looking, but nothing truly appealed to me. Half the racks held men’s clothing, so there weren’t many dresses to begin with.
It was strange—a boutique said to be popular among the capital’s aristocrats, yet none of the dresses suited my taste. Perhaps my preferences differed greatly from Owen’s fashion trends.
I pointed to another dress. After removing and rehanging dresses repeatedly, Sir Mathis still showed no signs of fatigue.
“Sir, let me see that.”
He handed me the dress on its hanger. I tensed my arms, struggling slightly under its weight, and held it in front of myself.
“How is it? Does it suit me?”
“How could I dare judge a princess?”
He whispered the word princess extremely softly, yet made it clear he didn’t want to evaluate me.
“It’s all right. Tell me honestly. Choosing a dress isn’t easy, so I’d like your help. As long as someone from my kingdom thinks it looks good on me, I’ll be satisfied.”
He hesitated, studying the dress carefully.
“I am no expert in ladies’ fashion, but… compared to what you usually wear, it is less elegant.”
“I thought so too.”
I laughed. It seemed Sir Mathis also thought it didn’t suit me. Even so, I found myself smiling—choosing clothes like this was unexpectedly enjoyable, despite not liking any of them.
The hanger was heavy; my arm trembled. I reached out to hand it back.
Before the hanger reached Sir Mathis, another hand swept into view. The weight vanished from my arms.
Startled, I looked up.
Cedric stood there, holding the hanger lightly in one hand, cherry-colored eyes meeting mine.
“Princess.”
