Chapter 29
How to Survive High Society
“Again!”
Lady Riena’s thin switch lashed across Anze’s hand.
The supple branch barely brushed her skin, yet a vivid red stripe bloomed across Anze’s pale knuckles in an instant.
Mariana, watching from the sofa, flinched at the sharp crack.
Lady Riena’s voice cut through the room like ice.
“I distinctly told you to have it memorized perfectly by today.”
“…Of course, I did memorize it perfectly.”
Anze glanced at her swollen hand, her tone cool and steady.
“But playing it on the keys is another matter.”
“Ha!”
Riena planted her fists on her hips, her face hardening as if ready to unleash a storm of scolding.
“Miss Anze Beaufort, listen carefully.”
Sitting upright before the piano, Anze fixed her gaze on the keys, expression stiff.
Lady Riena’s lips pursed tighter at the unyielding attitude. Her voice rang, crisp and sharp.
“Need I remind you that I am quite renowned?”
At the sudden self-praise, a crooked smile tugged at Anze’s lips, though her lowered head hid it.
“I have trained young ladies from the most prominent families of society—why, even Miss Mariana here.”
Riena tilted her chin high, the light glinting off her pointed nose.
“That I agreed to educate a baron’s daughter from an unheard-of house like Beaufort is solely because the Grand Duchess of Side asked me personally.”
She tapped the piano with her switch, then bent close to whisper in Anze’s ear.
“Had it not been for the Grand Duchess, do you think I would have spared you a glance?”
Anze’s face chilled. Satisfied, Riena straightened.
“The ball is in less than a month. Etiquette alone is not enough—piano is the bare minimum. I thought you promising because you copied other lessons well. Tsk.”
The switch struck the keys, making a jarring sound.
“It’s already the second week. Even young girls master a piece like this by now.”
“Lady Riena, isn’t that a bit much? Midsummer Waltz is difficult. I remember practicing for months myself. Few even perform it because it’s so tricky,” Mariana ventured.
The switch hissed through the air; Mariana shrank back.
“I’m disappointed in you both. Miss Mariana, who gave you leave to speak? This is Anze’s lesson.”
For a mere branch, the switch was wielded like a tyrant’s scepter.
Anze frowned, glancing at the woman over the piano lid.
In fortune terms, Riena’s chart brimmed with “Gyeopjae”—a sign of boldness and talent, but also of a nature that hated to lose and sometimes showed petty cruelty.
She’s bound for disgrace sooner or later… gods, my hand hurts.
Anze looked at the red welts across her own skin.
She admitted part of the blame lay with her. Had she humored Lady Riena at first, the woman might never have revealed such an unpleasant side.
But Anze had corrected her outdated lessons:
“Placing the right hand over the heart is southern custom. In the imperial court, a fan is customary.”
“Noble ladies ride for the hunt these days, I hear.”
A few such remarks, and Riena’s temper had flared.
“Madam, please stop,” Anze said finally.
Orange dusk spilled across the floor like a long shadow.
I’d rather be back in the musty advisor’s office, she thought, rubbing her temples.
“Miss Mariana did nothing wrong. It’s my own shortcoming. The hour is late—let’s end here. I’ll have the piece flawless by next time.”
“How astonishingly arrogant,” Riena hissed, her hand trembling on the switch.
“I tried not to say this, but I can’t help comparing. Lady Hildegard of the Crow Marquisate spent her childhood in an orphanage, yet when I met her she already possessed perfect etiquette. Piano, embroidery—flawless, and so humble.”
She spun on her heel.
“I shall report your laziness to the Grand Duchess.”
“Lady Riena, don’t you think that’s too much? Can’t you see Anze’s hand is swollen? If you complain to her guardian, I won’t stay silent,” Mariana snapped.
Riena paused, voice softening—if only slightly.
“This is why one must choose good friends. You were not like this before, Miss Mariana. Since keeping company with Anze Beaufort, you’ve grown coarse. Such defiance won’t serve you well. There’s a reason the Grand Duchess begged me to teach.”
Anze knew Riena’s influence in society was not to be dismissed, despite her mere baroness rank.
Please, let it go, Anze pleaded silently with her eyes.
But once roused, Mariana was immovable.
“So you’re threatening a duke’s daughter?” she shot back.
Ah, my lady always did have a stubborn streak, Anze thought.
“You’ve already been corrupted, I see,” Riena sneered. “Bad habits spread quickly.”
With Mariana defying her, Riena turned her scorn back on Anze.
By her logic, every fault traced to Anze alone.
Anze sighed against the piano.
If only I hadn’t bought that grand house…
With that money, she could be drifting on a distant sea instead of playing the unwilling noble lady bound to the Duke of Side.
The sting in her hand was the least of it.
Would she, like the Anze in the novel, someday lose her life to the duke?
A shiver ran through her.
Knock, knock.
All eyes turned to the door.
“What is it?” Riena barked.
A hesitant voice answered, “Forgive the interruption, madam, but His Grace asks why no one has come down for dinner.”
Anze and Mariana exchanged puzzled looks.
Normally, unless arranged, each person at the ducal house dined as they pleased.
For the duke to wait for them was unusual.
Was there a dinner appointment today?
Anze mouthed the question; Mariana quickly shook her head.
“Tell them the lesson isn’t finished,” Riena ordered coldly, starting to turn back.
“But… His Grace insists the meal is more important and requests that you come down at once,” the servant said nervously.
“They’re young ladies with a ball in two days. How can they attend every meal? Go back and tell him he must dine alone tonight.”
“Madam, he… he said that won’t do…”
The servant’s voice faltered but held firm.
Already in a foul mood, Riena’s temper flared.
“You insolent—!”
