CHAPTER 42……………………………….
Love Triangle (2)
“Oh my—why is Count Martin coming in with Miss Mariana? Did they know each other? More importantly, what on earth were those two doing out in the garden…? Isn’t the garden precisely the sort of place hot lovers sneak off to? If they’ve already been there—”
The young lady who’d been speaking stream-of-consciousness shut her mouth when she finally noticed the cold stares aimed at her.
The other young ladies, gathered around Ange, were all glaring at her for their own reasons.
“They probably just ran into each other. A gentleman like Count Martin wouldn’t go off flirting when he has Miss Hildegarde as his partner, would he?”
“Exactly. And of all people, Miss Mariana, too.”
The girl who’d spoken thoughtlessly froze when she felt Ange’s clear-eyed stare.
Come to think of it, this young woman was the Duke of Syde’s partner. Since she was his aide, perhaps she and Mariana were on friendly terms.
Realizing her own recklessness a little late, the girl avoided Ange’s eyes and busied herself with something else.
“What’s wrong with Miss Mariana?” Ange’s voice, which had been friendly until a moment ago, was now all thorns.
“No — that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
Unlike Mariana, who would have smiled and waved it off, Ange Beaufort didn’t let go easily.
So she’s just a provincial, hanging on to the Duke of Syde’s side.
Even so, given her precarious situation, whatever relationship that is will probably be only temporary.
Since it had come to this, Grace Platt decided to put on a bold front. After all, she hadn’t come here to make friends with Ange, right?
Once she’d achieved her purpose she’d never see the unsophisticated country girl Ange Beaufort again.
“Is that important now? It’s my turn — just tell me. What should I do about that man?”
A few hours earlier, when Ange had decisively solved Count Franchet’s daughter Olivia’s problem, a cluster of curious young women had begun to watch.
Olivia had met a rather decisive (and somewhat tragic?) ending when she’d been brusquely dumped by a man — yet she had wanted that outcome herself. In a sense, it was perfectly desirable.
Starting with Olivia, young ladies who had been lingering in the corners of the ballroom slowly approached Ange when they needed advice.
Grace watched, fascinated, as Ange gave all sorts of uncanny counsel: detailed dating tactics, and even ways to get rid of bothersome suitors. Time slipped by unnoticed.
In front of Ange the young ladies spoke without shame even of things that might be called embarrassing.
Where in society are there secrets? Even if you whisper, the moment the words leave your mouth, by tomorrow or the day after even the neighbor’s dog will know.
It was far more entertaining than any gossip magazine.
At last it was Grace’s turn.
Her dilemma: what to do with a lover who was dull and old-fashioned. But Grace, who didn’t want to look weak before Ange Beaufort, lifted her chin and demanded like an order.
“Should I keep seeing him? Or should I break it off?”
She pointed her fan toward the gentleman standing at one side of the ballroom.
Ange shot a crooked look at Grace’s haughty, servant-like tone.
“Isn’t that something Miss Grace should decide for herself? Why are you asking me? And… why is the man who’s always with Miss Hildegarde here in the first place?”
Strictly speaking, he didn’t just accompany Hildegarde so much as cling to her like a goldfish droppings stuck to her tail.
He’d been standing behind Hildegarde at Mariana’s tea once, not as a guard but lingering in her wake.
And his name was proudly listed among those who tormented Mariana back at the academy.
So of all people, he asks for advice? The nerve.
“Well—”
Grace had waited hours for an answer. Even if she said that, Ange’s sulky expression would likely be answered with, Who told you to wait?
There were too many eyes watching to press for an answer, yet Grace was dissatisfied with her relationship and didn’t want, like Olivia, to break things off completely.
Her lover was a man with a family and background that made him worth keeping.
Stuck in indecision and biting her lip, Grace was observed by Ange, who gave a light snort and turned her attention to Mariana.
At that moment, Grace’s billowing skirt blocked Ange’s view. Ange used the expensive fan specially acquired by the dowager to sweep Grace aside.
“Don’t block me. Move.”
This wasn’t the time to fuss about Grace’s love life. The problem was Grace’s man…
Ange’s gaze skimmed over the head of the gentleman Grace had identified as her lover.
“Tsk. There’s nothing to see. Why are you even worrying?”
From appearances, the man already seemed to have lost interest in Grace.
His quiet, gentle temperament would make it hard for him to tolerate Grace’s hot-blooded, demanding nature.
He was politely asking another woman to dance.
‘Can’t she see that?’ Ange clicked her tongue and focused on Mariana and her party at the ballroom entrance.
‘There is a man attached to Miss Mariana this year…’
So every time the marriage issue made Mariana gloomy, Ange had boldly reassured her not to worry.
But why were things getting so tangled?
Ange frowned heavily.
She fixed her eyes and glared at the astrological chart floating above Count Martin’s head.
There are types of philanderers.
In a man’s saju (birth-chart), a “jaeseong” (wealth-star) often represents women.
A strong “pyeonjae” suggests a broad, wide-ranging appetite for wealth — someone with pyeonjae will want many different things indiscriminately, and in a man’s chart that can mean he desires many women.
If “geobjae” (abundant wealth/star of gain) is strong, the man will covet women as he does riches; if “siksang” (expression/star of expression) is strong, he’ll be eloquent and skilled at seducing.
A man lacking jaeseong is always thirsty for the opposite sex, and thus likely to become a philanderer.
Usually, though, there are also controlling forces in the chart — guanseong, in-seong, and so on — that prevent extremes.
But this Martin Count, whatever he is, has strong siksang, and ridiculously there’s no one around him.
Which means there’s no one to restrain him.
‘If he has no family… God forbid, but if he later married Mariana…’
Ange narrowed her eyes and glared fiercely at Count Martin. If Mariana married that man, she wouldn’t be able to live according to her own nature.
With murderous intent in her gaze, Ange turned to Algernon.
‘That fellow—how does he even keep walking around?’
To Ange, Algernon was virtually a corpse.
Illness, accidents, weak constitution — the man’s chart was stained with every sort of misfortune.
A man so burdened with bad luck should, according to his chart, have died without leaving a trace.
So why was he at Mariana’s side?
Puzzled, Ange squinted to examine Algernon’s chart more closely. A hot palm pressed against her back.
As far as she knew, there was only one person who carried that kind of fierce body heat.
Coming to her senses and turning around, she found that the young ladies who’d been surrounding her had somehow scattered, and the Duke of Syde had his hand on the chair where Ange sat.
“Go.”
He appeared out of nowhere after being absent for some time.
“Where?” Ange asked.
“There.” The duke nodded toward Mariana and her party and twisted a corner of his mouth into a crooked smile.
“We need to find out what those people intend by hovering around Mariana.”
“Isn’t their purpose obvious? It’s a meeting between a man and a woman.”
After all, a ball is half an open place for making proposals.
“What do you intend to do?”
The duke, still holding his fierce gaze, replied.
“Kill them. Especially that blond one.”
Ange frowned at the pale, sickly handsome blond the Duke of Syde pointed to.
“I mean, he looks like he’ll be dead anyway soon enough. Why bother…?”
“That’s what I thought, too, but he didn’t die and came back, somehow.”
“……”
“Before I actually kill him, you have to stop me. So come with me.”
He says he might kill him?
If so, that meant he planned to swing a sword — and how was Ange supposed to stop that? To throw herself in front of the blade?
But what could she do? She had no reason to risk herself for His Grace or for that fragile beauty.
