CHAPTER 19
“There were no surprises.”
“She dared to try to harm Her Highness the Imperial Princess—this outcome was only natural.”
The Countess of Yudel was sentenced to execution three days later for the crime of attempting to assassinate a member of the imperial family.
Execution in three days.
It meant they would uncover the mastermind through sufficient interrogation, but would not reveal it to the public.
‘It wouldn’t take even half a day to make a noblewoman who’s never been formally trained open her mouth.’
But to those who knew nothing, three days was an absurdly short amount of time.
Long enough that people could believe it if the truth behind it was never discovered.
Everything was proceeding exactly as Trisha had expected.
‘His Majesty intends to shoulder the truth of this incident alone.’
The Emperor must have realized during the interrogation of the Countess of Yudel that the one behind it all was the Marchioness of Devon.
And yet, he was trying to deny that fact.
‘He probably can’t believe that the woman he cherishes as a mistress raised a blade against the successor he himself chose.’
That said, he wouldn’t neglect the investigation.
The Marchioness of Devon would certainly have cleaned up the evidence thoroughly—but could she really evade even the Emperor’s eyes?
‘Impossible.’
After all, part of the Marchioness of Devon’s power came directly from the Emperor.
‘In my previous life, Hestia drank the poison and fell into a coma, so we had no choice but to postpone uncovering the truth.’
Before interrogating the Countess of Yudel, they had first had to find a way to save Hestia.
While the Emperor searched everywhere for a treatment for Hestia, the Marchioness of Devon killed the Countess of Yudel and sealed her mouth forever.
‘Even then, His Majesty must have suspected my aunt.’
But he wouldn’t have been as certain as he was now.
The only witness, the Countess of Yudel, had died, and afterward all attention had to be focused on Hestia, who had fallen into a coma and barely survived.
And amid all that, how sweet must the comfort offered by his mistress, the Marchioness of Devon, have seemed?
But now, things were different.
‘Princess Hestia didn’t fall into a coma, and His Majesty personally interrogated the Countess of Yudel.’
That alone would change many things.
Trisha slowly raised her head.
Investigations into several maids and servants were still ongoing.
But they were little more than formalities.
Aside from those who had cooperated in bringing in the poisoned wine, most escaped punishment.
“So, it was the Duchess of Mason who uncovered who the culprit was?”
Only after the situation had somewhat settled did the Emperor summon Trisha.
Trisha quickly bowed her head, as if the praise were more than she deserved.
“The Duchess who saved the Princess’s life deserves a great reward. If there’s anything you wish for, say the word.”
“I never stepped forward seeking any reward.”
“If there’s nothing you want right now, you may take your time and decide later.”
Though she declined, saying that his words alone were too great an honor, the Emperor only left after repeatedly telling her to speak up whenever she desired something.
On one side of the banquet hall, a group gathered around the Princess, exchanging words of concern for her health.
Instead of joining them, Trisha simply observed.
She was considering whether to leave quietly.
“Since I have something important to discuss with the Duchess of Mason, I’d like everyone to return for today.”
Noticing Trisha’s gaze, Hestia dismissed the others.
“There’s a lot to talk about. Shall we move somewhere else?”
At Hestia’s suggestion, Trisha nodded silently.
“Trisha Mason. What exactly are you?”
In the sitting room attached to Hestia’s bedroom.
The moment she confirmed no one else was around, Hestia slammed the table.
“What was your intention, stepping in like that?”
The teacups a maid had just set down rattled, tea spilling over the rims.
“How did you even know the wine was poisoned?”
“I believe I already explained all of that earlier.”
“You know that’s not what I mean. Just how much did you know to ask in advance for the wine to be switched to the 923 vintage?”
That was right.
It wasn’t that someone had mistakenly brought the 923 vintage—the one without poison.
“If someone says they are bringing wine during the banquet, please switch it with the wine I prepared.
If you grant this request, I promise appropriate compensation.”
Trisha had sent Hestia a letter in advance.
So that she could prevent Hestia from drinking the poison while making it seem as though she’d acted over fake wine.
“Does it really matter how much I knew?”
Trisha lifted her teacup.
“What matters is that someone tried to poison Your Highness.”
“Well, the mastermind is obvious. Just look at the interrogation results.”
Hestia’s eyes cooled.
She was being careful with her words, but she was thinking the same thing as Trisha.
“This won’t be the end.”
“Of course not. Now that they’ve even checked His Majesty’s reaction, they won’t have anything to fear.”
For once, Hestia couldn’t suppress her resentment and let out a hollow laugh.
But Trisha thought differently.
“No. Next time, they won’t be able to act this boldly.”
At the firm answer, Hestia tilted her head.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I’ll make sure of it.”
“Hah…”
A hint of being unsettled crossed Hestia’s eyes.
“I never knew you were this ruthless.”
“That’s nothing new.”
Trisha lightly tapped the table.
“After all, isn’t that why I abandoned you two and took the Grand Duke of Mason’s hand?”
“……”
“I’m joking, so relax. Now, please tell me what you want.”
Since Hestia had kept her end of the bargain by switching the fake wine, Trisha was prepared to pay the agreed price.
“I saved my life, and instead of demanding payment, you’re offering something?”
“That was the deal.”
She could have used this incident to demand something in return—but Trisha didn’t.
Her goal wasn’t something the Princess possessed.
It was the Princess herself.
“I will carry out any task Your Highness assigns me to the best of my ability.”
“Before that, you should keep the promise you made.”
For the first time, Trisha looked puzzled.
“The promise I made…?”
“You said you’d tell me after the banquet.”
“Oh.”
Trisha blinked. One of Hestia’s eyebrows lifted.
“You’re not planning to change your story now, are you?”
“No, it’s not that. I’m just a little surprised.”
She hadn’t expected Hestia to truly want to hear her story.
“There’s so much I need to explain that I don’t know where to start.”
“What did you mean when you said I had a hand in your marriage to Edwin?”
Right. She had said that.
Trisha chose her words carefully in a brief silence.
There was no reason to lie. Hestia would see through it anyway.
“Whether you believe what I’m about to say is entirely up to Your Highness.”
Trisha gently went straight to the point.
“It was the late Empress who urged me to meet Edwin Mason.”
“Has that woman finally gone mad?!”
The Marchioness of Devon, in the middle of her travels, erupted in fury as she read a letter brought by her maid.
“She dares to sell me out to save herself?!”
She had just heard that the Countess of Yudel had named her as the mastermind behind the assassination.
Worse still, her attempt to assassinate the Countess of Yudel using agents she’d planted in advance had failed.
‘By now, she should already have been executed, but…’
Even so, she was uneasy.
After all, the Emperor himself had conducted the interrogation!
‘Is it because she poisoned her own husband? Vicious to the very end.’
The Countess of Yudel had been caught committing adultery behind her husband’s back, and just before being divorced, she poisoned him.
Not enough to kill him—just enough to leave him in a vegetative state.
‘And I found out about it.’
That was why she’d assigned her the task of poisoning the Princess, but she never imagined she’d be this clumsy and stupid.
‘If nothing else, she could have at least dragged Trisha down with her.’
To think she’d entrusted the assassination of a Princess to someone who couldn’t even handle that timid, foolish girl.
The Marchioness of Devon sighed and opened the next letter.
It was from Baron Moret, pleading for his daughter’s life.
She pressed her fingers to her temple.
‘Of all people, it had to be Baron Moret’s daughter who poured the Princess’s wine!’
Olivia Moret was suspected of being an accomplice simply because she had poured wine into the Princess’s cup.
She was being subjected to intense interrogation on suspicion of aiding the Countess of Yudel.
‘If she makes a false confession under pressure, this will get troublesome.’
She’d planned to observe the situation at her leisure, but it seemed that wouldn’t be possible.
Having made up her mind, she opened the next letter.
It was from Trisha.
‘It must be about this incident.’
She figured she could skim it and be done.
Or so she thought.
“Th-this lunatic!”
“W-what is it, my lady?”
The enraged Marchioness of Devon crumpled the letter and threw it to the floor.
The fact that she crumpled it rather than tearing it meant it might be useful later.
The maid quickly picked it up. While the Marchioness vented her anger by smashing nearby porcelain, the maid discreetly glanced over the contents.
Skipping the pleasantries, she went straight to the main point—the very first line was no joke.
“It appears that Aunt has been the victim of a scam.”
The maid’s eyes darted.
“Upon checking the theater troupe, opera house, and restaurants you’ve been sponsoring regularly, we found that none of them actually exist.
However, the fact that you supported them for over a year suggests this was a deliberate scheme.
When I asked my husband for his opinion, he said that ‘receiving upkeep funds on top of being scammed out of ducal money would only make Aunt feel more uncomfortable,’ and advised that it would be best to suspend the allowance for the time being.”
In short, it meant they could no longer trust the Marchioness of Devon—who lacked the judgment to avoid being scammed—and would be cutting off all the support they’d provided until now.
“The funds scheduled to be paid this month have already been reclaimed, so there should be nothing further for Aunt to worry about.”
Even the closing lines were perfectly crafted to provoke the Marchioness of Devon.
‘The theater, opera house, and restaurant—all places where my lady’s lovers are.’
She hadn’t been scammed; she’d been funneling money to her lovers and listing it as sponsorship.
And the Duchess had openly called her out on it.
“What are you doing over there?!”
The maid flinched.
The Marchioness of Devon, now calmer after venting her rage, gave a cold order.
“Prepare at once. We’re returning to the capital immediately.”
