Chapter 9
“This is a blended tea we prepared as a gift from our guild. It’s inspired by a spring garden full of lilacs. We put effort into making a present that would satisfy the eyes, nose, and palate of all our distinguished guests.”
I presented the tea caddy, designed in a style reminiscent of the bride’s engagement dress and the main lilac-themed motif of the wedding hall, then downplayed it with a casual remark about the spring garden. The Duchess of Harriot raised one eyebrow slightly before lowering it again.
She must have known we’d done a bit of background research on the bride and her family. Other guilds or noble houses would have likely done the same—keeping a close eye on emerging trends after the engagement, just to stay ahead.
But there was no need to confess, “We also did research to keep up with the trends and understand our customers’ needs,” right?
Her disapproving gaze flicked toward me briefly, but I simply smiled brazenly.
What can I do? She’s the celebrity of this era.
Just as a twitch threatened to escape the corners of my mouth, the Duchess lifted her teacup gracefully. She paused to inhale the aroma, then took a slow sip.
The subtle fatigue she had seemed to feel earlier appeared to ease. That meant the tea was to her liking.
Good choice, Daisy. The herbs should help with recovery.
“It’s not bad,” the Duchess said, setting her cup down silently.
In the language of noble etiquette, that was high praise.
“Thank you for your kind words.”
I skipped the formalities and shot back a straightforward reply. The Duchess glanced at me, as if to say, What are you planning next? Then she lifted her cup again.
Ah, she’s tolerating my audacity just this once, I thought, as if I could hear her voice in my mind.
I had calculated that her personality wouldn’t stray far from the original novel’s depiction. The gamble paid off. She closed her eyes and began to savor the tea fully.
Lady Sarah was strong-willed and somewhat domineering, yet she carried herself with the calm grace of someone born into a royal family. She knew her place in the world so well that a small provocation could be laughed off.
Even if I acted brashly, I would only be like an ant tickling a lion’s paw. That was the calculation behind my bold behavior.
You’re the first guildmaster to be this cheeky with me—operation underway.
Once I confirmed the Duchess had finished her cup, I quickly picked up the teapot.
“Would you like another cup?”
I couldn’t help but feel like a sales clerk at a tasting corner, grinning earnestly.
“You are bold,” she said. Though her tone was cold, there was a faint smile on her lips.
The plan worked, I thought, ready to speak, when she added,
“But.”
Her pause filled the room.
“The aroma is too strong. It will overpower the desserts.”
Ah. Her experienced noblewoman’s perspective differed from mine. I hadn’t expected that.
Tea-time in noble houses usually included sweet pastries like macarons or éclairs. Coming from a K-office worker background, I’d always treated tea like a medicinal drink rather than a dessert accompaniment. Daisy, being an herbalist, had the same habit.
Clearly, this was my mistake.
Yet my words flowed smoothly, hiding my inner panic.
“If our guests enjoy this tea, the main topic of conversation will inevitably be the bride’s engagement. The tea was crafted for that purpose. As they discuss the bride’s beauty and the perfection of the Harriot family, the éclairs will become a mere footnote.”
A mix of flattery and provocation, skewed heavily toward the latter. My remark crossed the line by local standards: implying the bride’s engagement could overshadow the desserts was audacious.
I bet everything I had like a gambler at a high-stakes table. The outcome could only be all or nothing: either I’d be kicked out penniless, or I’d walk away rich.
A refreshing laugh broke through my tense anticipation.
The Duchess chuckled like a girl hearing a clever joke.
“Of course. My daughter’s engagement could never be overshadowed by éclairs.”
I let out a quiet sigh of relief in my mind. Today, memories of the original novel kept flashing through my head, and I kept thinking, Lady Sarah, Lady Sarah.
I had spent seven years navigating a rigid social hierarchy, honing my sense of timing and tact. Even that training seemed to have regressed to match the heroine’s instincts in the original story.
I, now thoroughly terrified, smiled meekly like a new hire trying to please a department head.
Rebecca, stay quiet and you’ll survive. Mouth!
After laughing for quite some time, Lady Sarah wiped tears from her eyes with a handkerchief, handed over by her ever-present secretary. She crossed her long legs and leaned back in her chair, commanding the room without saying a word.
Her presence… it feels like a hidden power finally revealed.
Wait. Why does a medieval romance setting feel like it has the aura of a high school delinquent male lead?
Lady Sarah’s presence was overwhelming. No wonder she had been the rival of the original male lead. I shrank back instinctively.
I’m usually not someone who gets intimidated easily…
Childhood memories of being bullied by older, scarier girls came rushing back. But now, the stern words of those girls echoed faintly in my mind: “Keep your eyes down.”
Lady Sarah hadn’t directly commanded me, yet I obediently lowered my gaze.
A sharp gaze pressed against my left cheek. It stung.
Eh, whatever.
Unable to resist, I lifted my head, only to lock eyes with Lady Sarah. She seemed to have been waiting for this.
Caught off guard, I was revealed in my panic, my expression undoubtedly foolish.
I noted in my mental diary: Kick the blanket a thousand times tonight.
Lady Sarah smirked.
“You’re amusing, aren’t you?”
Her full lips curved into a smile that seemed to carve the air itself.
Wow. Mature sexy is like this.
If she were a celebrity, I’d be in serious trouble right now. My hand unconsciously moved toward my chest.
Stop it, heart. You have Theo.
No. No, no.
“Earlier, you were chatty, now you’re silent. Speak up,” she teased, half-laughing.
She thrives on this kind of interaction…
I felt like I should offer her a white lollipop.
“I… have a boyfriend!” I blurted.
“What? Hahaha. I also have a rabbit-like husband and a bear-like daughter,” she replied, laughing heartily.
I, the source of the nonsense, received her kind response, and she laughed so hard she clutched her stomach.
I felt like I might be in trouble. I wanted the door closed to hide my embarrassment.
The Duchess, still laughing, finally paused after drinking some water brought by the secretary.
“Seeing you laugh like this without a care is rare indeed,” she said.
Even though her hair was slightly tousled and her cheeks flushed, she remained elegant and beautiful.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” she said.
I wanted to reply I’m embarrassed beyond belief, but I kept my words brusque.
At risk of a rapid disaffection… sigh.
“Since you’re here, stay for a few days. Bring your luggage if you like,” she added.
I came to sell some goods and ended up being scouted as a personal entertainer.
Sorry, I’m not the type to be funny when the stage is set for me.
“I’m afraid my guild duties keep me from accepting your generous offer,” I said.
Of course, in this world, even refusals had to be phrased politely.
Clears throat. Behind her, the forgotten secretary coughed faintly.
