Olivia jolted awake, her heart nearly stopping.
A pair of gray eyes tinged with a pale blue hue were right in front of her. The man’s hand cupped her cheek—large, firm, and warm. Any trace of sleep vanished.
She must’ve gone mad.
No matter how tired she was, no matter how sleepy…
Her face flushed crimson as she hastily tried to pull away, but the once-gentle hand now held her more firmly.
“!”
Unable to shake off the strong hand, Olivia slowly lifted her gaze.
He was looking at her with an expression she had never seen before. It made her want to run away in fear—and at the same time, reach out and touch him. It stirred something strange in her.
In that moment, Edgar’s sharp eyes softened. Her heart began to race uncontrollably.
As the man leaned in so close their noses could touch, and as he lowered his head as if to kiss her, Olivia instinctively thrust out her arms.
He caught her wrist. The spot where he held her felt as hot as if it had been burned.
“Here.”
His lips brushed so close to her earlobe.
“You had something on you.”
His cool breath tickled her skin. Jolted by a shiver that shot from her head to her toes, Olivia reflexively pushed against Edgar’s chest.
“I-I… I’ll do it.”
She clumsily spoke, covering her face with both hands as if to hide.
“Not there. Here.”
Her fumbling was so endearing that Edgar felt a playful urge rise within him.
He smiled gently and pointed to his left cheek with a long finger. Olivia, catching on, brushed his cheek awkwardly.
“Here too.”
Not realizing she was being teased, Olivia dutifully rubbed every spot he pointed to.
By the time she was done, she had practically wiped down his entire face.
Her already flushed cheeks deepened to scarlet. She shot Edgar a glare.
Even if she had drooled in her sleep, how could it have gotten on his forehead?
“You were teasing me.”
Edgar burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it—not when even Johann’s expression from earlier came to mind.
Annoyed, Olivia turned her head toward the window. Edgar stifled his laughter.
The carriage rumbled across the bridge over the Vichen River. Lights adorned the bridge, scattering shimmering reflections across the water.
It sparkled—like the light in a woman’s eyes. Stunningly beautiful.
After the carriage passed, Johann stood frozen for a while.
The streetlights flickered across his watch, casting brief glints before fading back into darkness.
His expression, as he slowly closed his eyes, was both reserved and sharpened.
‘I love you, Johann. I love you so much.’
As he recalled the woman who once wept in his arms, a dull ache throbbed in his chest.
He had neglected her.
Though Diane Brook bore some of the blame, it was ultimately he who had dismissed his wife and opened the door for such disrespect. He was not free of guilt.
And the result?
He no longer loved her.
That was Johann’s conclusion after seeing Olivia with Edgar.
Their relationship was over.
That was their reality now.
Johann opened his eyes. His gaze swept slowly across the nightscape of Litton. He clenched and unclenched his fist.
It wasn’t the right time to return the pink diamond necklace—his mother’s keepsake.
“To the hotel.”
His voice was flat, his face unreadable. The carriage turned around.
“That was an excellent volley, Your Highness!”
The coach showered Princess Anblin with praise for her successful hit. Anblin smiled, pleased.
“Let’s take a break.”
“Yes, Princess.”
She passed the coach and made her way toward the parasol where her friends were waiting.
Her white pleated skirt fluttered around her shins.
Anblin liked her new tennis outfit.
Unlike the long, dragging flare skirts she used to wear, this one didn’t restrict her stride and was refreshingly cool.
She handed her racket to a maid and took a seat. Catherine offered her a soda filled with ice.
The heat was oppressive. On such a sweltering summer day, playing tennis was torture to Catherine—but she cheered her friend on willingly.
“Your tennis outfit is really cute.”
Anblin’s smile brightened at the compliment.
“I think this is my favorite design so far. It feels fresh. And it really suits you, Your Highness.”
A maid chimed in as well.
Madame Loren’s dresses were well-known even in Rondos. After the incident with the Anne Gilbert necklace, everyone knew her name—whether they liked it or not.
Catherine owned a few of her dresses herself.
“I’m thinking of having some fall dresses made while I’m in Litton. Could you call her for me?”
At her request, the atmosphere at the table suddenly turned cold.
Catherine noticed a faint frown forming between Anblin’s brows. A nearby maid, sensing the tension, answered instead.
“She’s now exclusively designing for Olivia Blanchet. It’s outrageous.”
Catherine blinked in surprise.
“Miss Blanchet?”
“Yes. She’s quite something. First the Marquess of Lancelot, now Madame Loren.”
“Maybe there’s something we don’t know?”
Catherine couldn’t believe Olivia would act that way. They’d only met a few times, but she wasn’t the kind of woman the papers made her out to be.
Catherine knew from experience how exaggerated media coverage could be. She lived under the same spotlight.
“What’s to misunderstand? Did you see today’s paper? It’s laughable how fake she looks.”
The maids made disgusted faces at an article about Olivia’s charitable visit to an orphanage.
“An angel? Give me a break.”
The pictures showed her playing with children, blurring the line between who was the child and who the adult.
She looked like a complete brat.
“She’s planning to attend the opening gala, isn’t she? If it were me, I’d never show my face again. She really is something.”
Catherine felt uncomfortable. She glanced at Irenne, who was now engaged to Johann, wondering if this talk bothered her.
“Princess Kranz. You should be careful too.”
Irenne, who had been silently sipping her tea, lifted her half-closed eyes to meet the maid’s gaze.
“My husband said last night the duke’s carriage headed in the opposite direction of the hotel.”
“He was probably going home. Surely not—”
“Not Winston House either.”
“Then, surely?”
“He said he had a business meeting with someone important.”
Irenne cut off the speculation sharply.
She found the pitying looks from the other women insufferably rude.
“By the way, have you picked your dress yet?”
Catherine turned to Anblin, eager to change the subject. Anblin glanced at Irenne before replying.
“Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
Catherine exaggerated her surprise.
“The party is tomorrow! And you haven’t decided?”
“I’ve picked three. I like all of them. Could you help me choose?”
“Leave it to me.”
Catherine clapped her hands and laughed like a schoolgirl. For a lady, choosing a gown could be as thrilling as falling in love.
“Do you think she’ll come?”
“Are you crazy? Why would she show up to her ex-husband’s gala? With the princess present?”
A noblewoman scoffed mid-laugh.
Just when the topic had moved on, it veered right back to Olivia Blanchet.
Catherine sighed softly. In Litton, Johann’s ex-wife seemed to be everyone’s favorite obsession.
“Who knows? Maybe she’ll appear on Edgar Lancelot’s arm. You know, just to show off. She seems like that type.”
“You’re right. The orphanage act can’t compare to this kind of attention.”
At that moment, Anblin’s hand paused as she wiped condensation from her glass with a handkerchief.
Her amber eyes darkened.
“She won’t come. She’s not that shameless.”
Catherine said calmly.
A flashbulb went off in Anblin’s mind.
If she won’t come…
Then I’ll make her.
Anblin smiled faintly.
Sunlight filtered through the white parasol, brushing her hair with a reddish glow as it swayed in the breeze.
With the entire Litton social scene and the press watching…
There could be no greater humiliation.
After an official luncheon with the King of Britt, Johann had a private audience with him.
The king welcomed Johann warmly.
Standard, formal pleasantries were exchanged—thanks for contributing to Britt’s economy and so on.
Eventually, they delved into serious discussion. Their conversation grew heated at times, voices occasionally leaking through the doors.
Soon, the tone smoothed out, and they reached an agreement on customs duties, conditional on establishing a factory in the country. Johann emerged from the chamber looking pleased.
Morris was waiting and handed him a letter sealed with red wax.
“It’s from Princess Kranz.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
The refined handwriting asked him to stop by before he left.
As Johann headed for the west wing, he encountered Irenne, who was strolling in the garden.
“Do you have a moment?”
It looked more like she had been waiting than a chance encounter. Johann glanced at his watch.
“I do.”
“Then shall we walk a bit?”
Irenne gestured toward her maid, who handed her a parasol. It was a signal not to follow.
They walked silently down a quiet path. The late afternoon sunlight turned gold at their feet.
Only the sound of footsteps echoed in the stillness.
Was she stalling to find the right words?
The silence tugged at Johann’s waning patience.
As they neared the large fountain where white spray foamed into the air, Irenne finally parted her lips.
