Chapter 13

“Miss Ellen, if you’re so curious, why don’t you ask that person over there?”
Diana pointed toward the reserved seats for the salon members.
Sitting there was none other than Monica Crawford.

“This meeting was arranged by the matriarch herself. Unlike some, I didn’t flirt with the Duke.”

At that moment, Ellen Rumill’s face hardened.

“Flirt? What do you mean by that?”

“Was that too harsh? Then let me say it was obvious interest.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t be so angry. I know you both have high standards. He’s from a noble family and a kind man, so it’s understandable finding a match is difficult.”

And it was no coincidence that only the Crown Prince and the Duke fit those standards.
That’s probably why the matriarch had always been cold to the Rumill sisters.
They would poke at her, hoping she’d pick one of the two—either the Crown Prince or the Duke—but it was impossible to win her favor.

“The matriarch surely knows the suitable match for both of you.”

“How arrogant… You should watch your words, especially now.”

“Miss Ellen, maybe it’s time to think realistically about your own prospects.”

At Diana’s blunt advice, laughter bubbled up around the room.
Perhaps they all shared the same thought.

“Have you finished speaking?”

“Of course not. If you were waiting for the part where I say I’m jealous, that time has passed.”

“Why would I be jealous of someone like you? Don’t make up things you don’t know!”

“If you hate being misunderstood, you might want to stop the needless mockery.”

“How dare you!”

“Who do you think you are, lecturing me?!”

The sisters’ voices rose at the same time.

“Miss Diana! Matriarch!”

Suddenly, the Marchioness of Lancaster appeared briskly, crossing the salon.
Diana glanced at her watch—exactly three o’clock.
If Ian remembered their promise, it was time to send the bouquet to the salon.

But then Diana couldn’t believe her ears.

“There’s a guest at the door… The Duke of Crawford is here!”

The person who had just arrived was the main cause of the rumors, more definite than any bouquet could be.

“What?”

Ian’s sudden appearance shocked everyone.
But no one was as shocked as Diana.

Why? Why did he come here?
“I only asked for a bouquet!”

Ignoring Diana’s surprise, the narrow-eyed villain walked in, eyes slyly half-open, managing to avoid bumping into anyone.
It was always a mystery how he could see ahead with eyes so narrow.

“Duke.”

“Duke of Crawford, what brings you here…?”

“It’s been a while. I heard you’ve been busy. How have you been?”

“Thanks to your concern, I’m doing well.”

Every step Ian took brought murmurs around the room.
Despite the fuss, he answered politely, never showing annoyance—a truly kind man.

But the matriarch was different.
Like Diana, when she saw her nephew, she seemed to wonder if she was hallucinating.

“You’re not dying yet… Am I seeing things?”

“You’re here, aunt.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought this.”

Ian held out a lace fan—matching the dress the matriarch had worn.

“You wore Madam Fleur’s masterpiece dress and left this behind, so I brought it for you in case you were looking for it.”

“You came just for a fan? You?”

“Of course, I also wanted to see you.”

“Stop it. You’re an adult; what nonsense is this?”

The matriarch scolded him, but Ian just smiled without any sign of hurt.

Her eyes naturally shifted to the bouquet in his arm, and she was startled.

“Could it be…”

“I delivered it properly anyway.”

At that moment, despite the distance, Ian and Diana’s eyes met.

“Miss Diana.”

Ian left the matriarch behind and walked toward Diana.

Why?

He held a bouquet in his hand, but somehow it felt more dangerous than a dagger.

“You look stunning today. I thought I might see you here again.”

He bowed slightly, then lightly kissed the back of Diana’s hand as if he were a true fiancé.

Diana fought to keep her composure.
Ian was like a poisonous mushroom clown forcing people to smile.
His skill in creating illusions was almost hallucinogenic.

“Good to see you, Duke.”

“Hmm? The formality is back. Are you conscious of others around?”

“…”

“No need to feel pressured. Please call me Ian like before.”

Ian, the walking poisonous mushroom, looked a little hurt at her words.

Before she finished speaking, he handed her the bouquet.

“I heard you like April roses, so I prepared these. I hope you like them.”

“…Thank you, Sir Ian.”

Diana felt a cold sweat down her spine.
The gazes around them pierced like needles, filling every inch of her body.

“Is talking to someone pretending to like you this stressful?”

Originally, Diana’s plan was simply to receive the bouquet and a message card he sent her.
Receiving them publicly at the salon would prove the rumors were true.

She had expected the Marchioness of Lancaster to send an invitation.
She thought it best to create a situation where she could enjoy the status of a guest and control the scene.

Was this intentional?

By appearances, the picture painted was that Ian Crawford was deeply infatuated with Diana Wellington.

But his unexpectedly active cooperation made Diana sense a faint malice.
It was like a juggler clown practicing, while someone threw daggers at him for fun!

“Next time, please send them to the estate. As you see, I don’t have enough hands to carry bouquets personally.”

“I will keep that in mind. I have no wish to embarrass you.”

“…”

Is lying a family trait?
Or did he get extra tutoring from a home tutor?
Ian’s attitude was unusually full of goodwill.

Meanwhile, the Rumill sisters were shocked by the scene.
The difference in mood between them and Ian was obvious.
Ian openly showed interest, while Diana maintained a controlled distance.

Ignoring the sisters stiff with shock, Diana asked:

“Are you heading to the palace today?”

“No. It’s a rare day off.”

“Then you should rest. You must be tired.”

She gently suggested, with the kindness of a poisonous mushroom that scares people with its deadly hospitality—basically telling him to go away.

But Ian ignored the hint smoothly.

“It’s been so long since I had a day off that I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve learned that reading too much can get tiring.”

“Oh my, so you went out on purpose?”

“Something like that. Please don’t tell me to bury myself in books again.”

The Lady Grey’s fuss made Ian look embarrassed.

“In that case, have mercy on me and take a walk with me.”

“…”

“If you show generosity to a gentleman, good fortune will come your way, Miss Diana.”

His smooth fingers beckoned, as if asking her to fill the empty space.

Diana had no choice but to take his hand.