Chapter 49
In the temporary lounge set up in the art museum, Benedict sat with a sullen face, staring out the window.
Carriages carrying the nobles invited to his birthday banquet were lining up to enter.
Most of them had brought their young daughters, and every time Benedict looked at them, his expression involuntarily tightened.
It wasn’t that he disliked girls in general—after all, his closest friend was also a girl.
What he hated was…
“Go on now, greet the duke! Quickly!”
The ugliness of adults trying to coax and push little girls forward. And—
“H-hello… sir.”
The way the girls looked at him as if they were staring at a monster.
‘Well… I suppose that’s natural.’
Benedict sighed.
To those girls, he must look like one of those “monster dukes” in novels. And they themselves would feel like the tragic heroine—destined to be sold off for the sake of her family’s interests, to a duke who wouldn’t live long.
It was precisely because he hated those looks that he had relied on Lucien’s help.
If she stood firmly at his side, then no girl would feel the need to try currying favor with this so-called monster.
‘…And yet Lucien doesn’t even realize that.’
He still felt a deep pang of disappointment toward her for saying she would stop their “main character act.” Just because his grandmother found out, she turned her back on him so quickly.
In truth, even Emma hadn’t seemed opposed to their act. She had only… voiced some inexplicable concern.
“I know what you’re worried about. I too know how frightening it is to be forced into marriage.”
Her words, which began with understanding, soon continued:
“But I fear that, by making lies into a game, you might end up covering up something truly important.”
“Everyone who approaches me is wearing a lie anyway, Grandmother.”
“I am not speaking of them, my dear.”
Then who?
Just as Benedict was about to ask, she added:
“Perhaps it would be good for you to spend a day quietly in your room, thinking it over.”
Unfortunately, Benedict hadn’t been able to follow that advice—because Lucien had fallen ill. There was nothing he could do about that.
Besides, even if he had spent the whole day thinking about truth and lies, it’s not as if he would have discovered anything new.
One fact remained unchanged: he needed Lucien desperately.
“Benny, who are you waiting for like that?”
Algeron approached from behind, still calling him by that dreadful nickname. Today, he was even wearing the same color tie, saying it was a “symbol of brotherhood,” clearly pleased with himself.
“I’m not waiting for anyone, Your Highness.”
“The White Lady really isn’t coming?”
It was already the third time he’d asked, so Benedict decided to answer by rudely turning back to the window instead.
“If you had a fight, just go and apologize. They say a man who can’t say sorry isn’t popular, Benny.”
“…We didn’t fight.”
“Then why did things suddenly turn out like this? Baron Litton swore the duke worships some pure-white fairy-like lady, but can’t figure out which family she’s from.”
Baron Litton, like many others, was desperate to introduce his daughter to Benedict. He had probably told Algeron that to fish for information—thinking a prince close to Benedict might know Lucien’s identity.
“And what did you say, Your Highness?”
Benedict turned to him with a worried look, wondering if he had mentioned the traveling troupe.
It wasn’t that Lucien’s background was shameful.
But there was no need to hand the nobles a topic they would chatter about with glee.
If word got out, Lucien might end up hearing hurtful things.
The nobles already treated Benedict—who was a duke—as a patient doomed to die soon. They would be even crueler to Lucien.
“Of course I said I didn’t know.”
“Thank you for that.”
“Think nothing of it. I didn’t want to lose my chance to dance with the White Lady by speaking rashly.”
Benedict was so startled that he blurted, “Absolutely not!”
How could he allow that?
Lucien had already been glued to Alphy while learning to dance, which had annoyed Benedict to no end.
And now, in the capital, she would dance closely with this handsome prince? Just the thought was unbearable—an awful sight he never wanted to witness.
“You’re so jealous, Benny.”
“It’s not jealousy!”
This was a justified objection.
He was Lucien’s closest friend, yet her dance card seemed to be filled with other people’s names.
It was outrageously unfair—enough to make even a saint sulk.
“In the first place, I have no reason to feel that way toward Lucien.”
“Really? Then that’s good. Could I ask you a favor? Not as repayment for finding my ring… well, maybe just a little.”
Clearly, he was asking in return.
Since the ring had indeed opened a secret compartment, proving it was truly his father’s, Benedict nodded.
Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to build a good rapport with Algeron.
Once this hectic banquet was over, Benedict planned to question him about why he had approached the traveling troupe and about the Ashdown orphanage.
Alphy was currently investigating the imprisoned headmaster on Algeron’s orders, but Benedict didn’t see the need to reveal his suspicions yet.
“Today is your first banquet as the guest of honor, Benny. That fact inevitably carries a lot of meaning—especially regarding your first dance partner.”
He must be trying to set him up with someone, Benedict thought, suppressing the frown threatening to form.
Such an expression was not fitting in front of a prince, regardless of the reason.
“If possible, I’d like you to dance with the young lady of the Saint-Claire family.”
“Is this about money?”
“Yes. Father wants the earl and countess to be in a good mood for a while. Of course, if you don’t like it, you can refuse—I can take her myself.”
It was an invitation, yet had a hint of pressure.
Benedict considered it briefly, then nodded.
He couldn’t avoid dancing tonight anyway. It was better to choose a partner for a clear reason.
‘Though… I might have to explain this to Lucien later.’
The thought suddenly made him pause.
‘Wait… why would I need to explain that to Lucien?’
There was no reason. She hadn’t asked him to practice dancing with her in the first place.
‘She always asked my brother instead. I’m good at it too…’
So it wasn’t as if he needed to report his dance partners to her.
“I understand. I’ll do it.”
The museum’s flower-adorned hall was filling with nobles from the capital.
Tonight’s banquet was closely tied to selecting the prince’s consort, making it an important occasion. Every family was determined to present themselves as solid and magnificent, even if it meant overextending themselves.
In the garden, however, were those who hadn’t received invitations but had still come in hopes of catching a glimpse inside.
Soldiers blocked the way, preventing them from getting in, but still they lingered, hoping at least to see the new duke in person.
And among them was Lucien.
Juliet had brought a dress for her, but in the cramped carriage it became clear there was no way to put on such an elaborate gown.
So Juliet had declared, “Let’s go to the museum and borrow a lounge!” and brought her here.
“Make way!”
Carrying the huge dress box over her head, Juliet forged a path for Lucien.
But before they could even climb the museum steps, a soldier stopped them.
“Step back. This isn’t a place you can enter freely.”
Before Lucien could say anything, Juliet shot back,
“What are you talking about? Do you know who this is?! Huh?! Don’t you want to get promoted?!”
The soldier glanced at Lucien.
She could guess the meaning behind that look. She was wearing ordinary clothes, far from the attire suited for a banquet.
That might have been forgivable—but there was another problem.
“Where’s your guardian?”
Of course. That was the real issue.
Even if the event gathered boys and girls, it was hosted by the royal family, and all minors needed an adult to watch over them.
“A maid doesn’t count as a guardian. Stop playing around and go home.”
At that moment, a wave of “ooh”s spread through the crowd as people looked up toward the top of the museum steps.
Wondering what was going on, Lucien lifted her head.
“Oh.”
At the very top stood Benedict.
Beside him was the golden-haired prince she had seen at the funeral.
Smiling brightly, the two exchanged words before turning to acknowledge the cheers of the crowd.
The prince waved first, with practiced ease. Then Benedict gave a slight bow, prompting another round of cheers.
It was nothing like the cheers Lucien had heard while traveling with the troupe. The longing and admiration in the sound made her realize anew just how high Benedict’s status truly was.
She stood in the middle of that sound, gazing only at him.
Benedict spoke a bit more with the prince, then entered the museum alone and disappeared—without sparing her even a single glance.
Just then, the bell signaling noon rang out.
