Chapter 14
Lady Mariana
Even if she was only an adopted daughter, the Grand Duchess was never the type to stand by and watch things get out of hand.
Sure enough, Eliot let out a long sigh.
“Do you think Her Grace would just sit quietly? She cares for Lady Mariana as deeply as she does for His Grace.”
Anje nodded silently.
“Jewelry, dresses, gloves, fans, lace—everything Lady Mariana wears is of the very finest quality. The Grand Duchess dresses her so and takes her to every gathering on purpose. And anyone who dares gossip about her meets a swift and public rebuke.”
Tsk. Not the best method.
Anje, walking slowly, shook her head.
“Did it work?”
Eliot nodded with a faint smile.
“Of course. At least on the surface, everyone treats Lady Mariana with the utmost respect.”
“That sounds like you know people still think otherwise in private. You can’t make friends that way.”
She wasn’t a toddler learning to walk anymore. To Anje, it felt like overprotection.
“How old is the young lady…?”
“Twenty-five. And you, Miss Anje?”
“Twenty-one.”
“You’re young.”
“That’s not the point. Twenty-five isn’t exactly a child. The Grand Duchess won’t live forever—how long can she keep shielding her like this…?”
“Isn’t it you who’s speaking out of turn without knowing the situation? That last remark crossed the line even for a servant.”
Before they knew it the two of them were standing close, shoulders drawn in, lowering their voices as they traded careful words.
It wasn’t exactly gossip, but it was sensitive enough to warrant caution.
“You’ll understand when you meet Lady Mariana. She’s pure-hearted for her age. Anyway, Miss Hildegard is the first person she’s ever opened her heart to as a friend. There’s talk of marriage with His Grace, but it’s also important to us that Lady Mariana has finally made a friend.”
“I hate to say this, but how can you be sure they’re truly friends? Have you watched them together yourself?”
Anje’s question carried a serious weight.
Eliot leaned closer, wary of eavesdroppers.
“You can’t be doubting Lady Hildegard, can you? His Grace ordered an inquiry as a formality. It’s essential to know every detail about a political match before marriage. Don’t misunderstand—Lady Hildegard is unlike the other young noblewomen. She’s genuinely kind and free of prejudice. I can vouch for that.”
That much matched what Anje had read in the novel.
Still, could that alone make someone a true friend?
Eliot gave her a look of mild disapproval.
Maybe this is better, Anje thought. A report praising Hildegard as an exemplary young lady would satisfy everyone.
She was mulling over the idea of taking the easy route when a familiar voice cut in.
“What are the two of you doing over there?”
The sudden sound of the duke’s voice made Eliot step back from Anje at once, wearing a perfectly calm expression as if nothing had been said.
“You’re back, Your Grace. What did His Majesty want?”
“He asked when I plan to marry.”
“What? Nothing else?”
Joseph let out a low chuckle, not one of amusement.
“He lay half-reclined, asked that, and told me to go.”
“He summoned you early in the morning just for that? What a pointless—”
Eliot swallowed the irreverent words just in time and forced his face back to composure.
Walls have ears, and among the many servants of the ducal house who knew how many were imperial informants?
Of course, the duke’s own spies in the imperial palace were just as numerous, so it was a fair trade in that sense.
“Why is he so interested?” Eliot asked.
Joseph, leaning against a fig tree at the path to the central garden, clicked his tongue and straightened. The sunlight revealed a face hardened with cold suspicion.
“It’s suspicious. Makes me uneasy.”
Frowning, he turned his eyes on Anje.
“So what were you two plotting, standing so close?”
“Plotting? We were discussing work,” she said.
“What work? I don’t recall—”
He broke off and jerked his chin toward Anje.
“I don’t remember giving you any assignment.”
A flicker of discomfort crossed Eliot’s face.
Anything about Lady Mariana was delicate business in this household. Even innocent words could be misunderstood.
Normally Joseph’s trust in Eliot would have let it slide, but he was in no mood for leniency today.
Scanning around, Eliot spotted a group of maids coming out of the greenhouse, carrying empty water jars and leftover flower stems after finishing their arrangements. He seized the chance.
“Surely you haven’t forgotten what day it is? Lady Hildegard is expected today.”
“Ah.”
Joseph exhaled a quiet sigh, having completely forgotten.
In noble society, a match was usually a long process: choose a suitable partner, test the waters with casual outings, exchange a marriage proposal, observe each other further, court again, then finally become engaged.
And that wasn’t all.
Families had to sort through legal matters, and each side checked for hidden weaknesses or obstacles.
In that sense, the Crow Marquis’s direct marriage proposal was remarkably efficient.
No doubt the Marquis valued efficiency as much as Joseph did.
By all accounts it should have been a welcome offer.
Hildegard was beautiful and clever, and the Crow family was wealthy.
The only hitch was their alignment with the Emperor’s faction—but the Syde dukedom represented the nobles’ faction, so uniting the two houses could symbolize peace and stability in an empire long plagued by factional strife.
And yet… why does it still feel wrong?
Perhaps it was the backlash from constant pressure to marry since he’d returned from the war.
Lately it seemed as if everything around him revolved around the Marquis’s daughter.
Since her visit was announced, the head housemaid reminded him of the date daily, and his mother never missed a chance to praise Hildegard whenever they met.
In truth, his mother had only glimpsed Hildegard a few times at banquets since the young lady was only recently acknowledged as the Crow heir.
Yet the praise kept flowing, clear proof of her approval.
But no matter how suitable Hildegard might be, the more people pushed, the more Joseph felt uneasy—like an invisible snake tightening around his throat.
“Well then, my new aide finally has work to do.”
He turned to Anje.
“Exactly,” Eliot said smoothly. “We were just talking about that.”
Anje, unsure what they meant, could only blink in confusion.
“However the ‘Black Wolf’ handles things, you need to see it firsthand,” Joseph went on. “And in this case, you won’t even have to visit the marquisate—the lady is coming of her own accord. Makes the job easier.”
It almost sounded as if he’d summoned Hildegard just for Anje’s sake.
The thought irked her, but as an employee she held her tongue.
“I hear the tea party is to be held in the greenhouse,” Eliot added. “Alongside Lady Mariana and Lady Hildegard, a few other young ladies will attend. That’s unusual. We can’t tell if they’re coming because of Lady Hildegard or if they hope to curry favor with His Grace by outshining the Crow heiress.”
“Eliot, spare me the dull jokes,” Joseph said coldly.
Eliot tilted his head, but then asked, “Your Grace, may I ask something—not as your aide, but as a childhood friend?”
“No. Don’t ask. Keep quiet.”
“Why are you so set against marriage? Lady Hildegard is the sort of bride anyone would covet: wealthy, beautiful, intelligent. I truly don’t understand your reaction.”
Why not indeed?
Listening half-heartedly, Anje murmured under her breath,
“He’s just contrary by nature.”
Couldn’t Eliot see that look of mistrust?
The duke was clever but inherently suspicious, always examining things from two sides.
He’d never be caught off guard—but as a superior, he was hardly easy to work for.
Thinking this, Anje pressed her lips together at the bitter taste of the thought.
