Chapter 27
Madame Benoît had long heard the rumors that the Marchioness of Napier lavished extraordinary care on her only son.
“So she pretended to help, but really ground him down,” she mused. “He must have been easier prey than his strong-willed sister or that older sibling.”
It was, after all, just a backup plan until a better match came along—but that very caution provoked their ire. After all those years of coveting the lady only to have her snatched away at the last moment, how furious they must be.
“That Will fellow is awfully greedy. With everything he has, he’d do well to lower his standards for women—balance things out.”
Considering Madame Benoît’s typically sarcastic bent, that hardly counted as faint praise—it was almost high praise. Ever since the Duchess had arrived, everything had gone smoothly for him… until yesterday.
“Is something the matter?”
His usually steady mistress seemed uncharacteristically low. The Duke, wearing a grave expression, summoned Jade and asked for Frisia’s health records.
“Are you certain?”
“Absolutely. She’s always been robust—if she trained properly in martial arts, she could’ve taken down a boar barehanded.”
“Then this makes no sense.”
Even half-asleep, he was sure it hadn’t been a dream. Why on earth had she mentioned death?
“Did you perhaps anger Her Ladyship?” Jade asked.
“Not at all—she agreed to give me a lap pillow every day since yesterday.”
Although he’d half‑jokingly insisted, the Duke had kept silent in gratitude.
“Maybe she’s just so happy. Saying she doesn’t want to die really means she wants to live—and if she’s content now, perhaps that’s all.”
He’d woven that explanation to protect her feelings, and the Duke seemed quite pleased.
“Well, if the God of Death themselves came calling, I’d just cut them down.”
“Here are the documents you requested.”
Madame Benoît had called her master greedy, and she wasn’t wrong. Jade handed over the dossier on Princess Hyacinth. When he’d first proposed marriage, the Duke hadn’t taken the Princess seriously at all. He’d never even investigated her, even when the Crown had practically forced the match. Now, reviewing more recent developments, he wore a wry smile.
“Looks like the Princess thought Frisia was an easy target.”
“My lady?”
“She’s one to shift her stance whenever it suits her own interests.”
Before the Duke could even forget that the Princess had once pursued him, she’d changed tack without a shred of regret—this time flaunting her friendship with her wife, Frisia, in broad daylight.
“Even if it was the Princess, why did my lady accept her offer?”
“If she craved power, she wouldn’t have been so easily swayed.”
“Then…”
“She tried so hard to preserve my secret. How cute.”
“Did she discover it?”
Jade asked in alarm; the Duke shook his head.
“Not at all. She hasn’t a clue.”
No matter how celebrated as a Royal Princess, assassinating her rival would be trivial for him.
“If it’s sweet, swallow it; if bitter, spit it out. She’d exploit anyone if necessary.”
“There are whispers at court that, instead of the incompetent Crown Prince, the Emperor may tacitly favor the Princess.”
“Ridiculous.”
She might brim with ability but lack character; yet her mask never slipped. Only when she’d threatened him, relying on the royal backing, had he glimpsed her chilling true nature. If someone like that seized real power… who could predict the tragedy?
“If she makes a foolish move, I can dispose of her at any time.”
“I’ll keep watch.”
Though he’d pronounced her doom the moment he threatened her, an unexpected visitor had changed his mind.
“If she planned this from the start, then she truly is remarkable.”
“Indeed.”
He’d been naïve to suggest any younger sister would be a better match. Before the Duke, Jade lowered her head in embarrassment.
“Ah-choo! Ah-choo!”
“Are you all right, Frisia?”
They say two sneezes mean someone is cursing you. A chill ran down Frisia’s spine as she adjusted the reins.
“I’m just not used to riding. Must be nerves.”
Ladies’ social gatherings were typically indoors affairs—every minor breach of etiquette could reduce a guest to ridicule. But this meeting of princesses and their friends felt different.
“How refreshing.”
Princess Hyacinth, mindful of Frisia’s inexperience, had promised a light course and expertly demonstrated.
“My father built this place for me.”
As Hyacinth spoke, Frisia looked around at the other guests: from Lady Roser, daughter of the Marquis she’d once enticed the Duke away from, to the daughter of a gentry-ranked academy professor—clearly, these were people whose favor would bolster her husband’s power.
Times had changed. Nobles who once lived off land revenues had to engage in business to avoid obsolescence. Rose’s family was a rising noble house, but no one had better capitalized on the new order than Duke Cromford, whose railway and magical‑tool revolutions had brought light to late-night streets and clean water to the capital. Within two decades, even the Crown had courted his favor—and arranged this princess match. Now that plan had failed, they scrambled to win over Frisia instead.
“Within the club, please call me Hyacinth,” the Princess announced, encouraging informality.
After the ride, at the refreshments, a group of young ladies approached:
“Lady Frisia, it’s an honor.”
“Please, call me Frisia.”
They blushed fiercely and looked at her starstruck—most had only ever crossed paths at balls, never conversed.
“I’ve heard so much from Lady Lily. To speak with you now…”
“Lily told you?”
Unlike homebound Frisia, Lily had embraced society, attending many events and teasing dismissive noble girls mercilessly.
“That cookie you make… I can’t imagine anything more wonderful.”
“And Lily’s dresses? She says you pick them!”
Frisia had treasured Lily, but she never guessed the girl spread such stories. Though shy, she didn’t dislike their admiration.
“May I call you ‘onee‑san’?”
“Of course.”
No sooner had she settled than ladies Rose’s age approached with treats:
“Count Deblanc speaks highly of you.”
“My lady?”
“He swore he’d never marry you—but when Rose cried her eyes out, our hearts broke.”
At the refreshments, the eldest, Marchioness Lavery, offered Frisia cakes as though she were her own daughter.
“When Rose dared to declare herself the house’s heir, we all thought her reckless. But…”
“Well…”
“Rose believed in you. She said that if anyone could, it would be you.”
Because Frisia had faith in Rose, Rose hadn’t wavered through every trial.
“She told me she wouldn’t let you down—even if the world said no.”
Rose’s tears made Frisia’s own eyes sting. Before she could lament, three excited ladies approached, eyes shining, clutching her hands:
“Every night, the Duke sneaks past Rose to visit you? What’s your secret?”
“Secret?”
Rumors of their forbidden love, blossoming despite Rose’s vigilance, were widespread. Naturally, these young ladies were desperate for tips on evading parental watch.
“Just the same method you’d find in Ulster’s book,” one piped up.
At that moment, Frisia’s heart leapt—could someone here know our author?
