Chapter 95
“Really? I’ve never been to a tea party.”
“That can’t be true!”
“Right, Your Majesty?”
“…Hm?”
Kenneth, you’re not seriously thinking of exposing what happened that day, are you?
As if he would have taken along something he thought was dirty, like bacteria clinging to his body.
One day…
Kenneth had come all the way to the annex saying he’d teach her proper tea-time etiquette.
He rehearsed with her, hitting the back of her hand every time she “messed up.”
But, as you’d expect, that wasn’t etiquette—
It was a lesson on how to make Sinclair look vulgar and pathetic.
Because of his childish desire to humiliate his sister, the Owen Marquisate turned into a laughingstock—
a family whose lady of the house disappeared and couldn’t even teach basic etiquette.
Thanks to that, Kenneth was severely scolded by Michael Owen.
So he probably doesn’t want to remember any of it.
“Earlier, in the carriage, Sister told the Grand Duke that I was too delicate and too precious… that you and Father never allowed me to go outside.”
“That’s true.”
When the sisters shamelessly stuck to the same story, even Melas clamped her mouth shut.
Was it because she was the oldest in this study group?
Or because she had two grown sons already?
Whenever conversation died, Marchioness Cloris Schumayer would skillfully introduce a new topic, keeping the table full of laughter.
“Oh my, so that’s why we never saw you at any balls. You never even had your debutante, right?”
“To be precise, I was unable to have one.”
Sinclair lowered her head, fiddling with the tablecloth.
Maybe trying to look a little weak, to gain sympathy?
“Back then, I was so frail that if I got the slightest chill, I’d be bedridden for ten days. But after getting married, my constitution changed.”
She bowed her head even more and twisted her body shyly.
“Ohoho, then the Grand Duke must have some very special abilities~”
And the topic, naturally, slid toward the 19+ range.
“Well, it makes sense. Newlyweds, after all. Ohoho.”
“When I saw how His Grace looked at Her Highness the Grand Duchess earlier, even I felt butterflies.”
“He’s much younger, isn’t he?”
When Cloris Schumayer—who already had grown sons—said this enviously, Duchess Niobe Salamis rubbed her pregnant belly.
“Oh my, feeling excited is no sin.”
“True. The Grand Duke has been shaking the hearts of women in the Empire since he was young.”
Marchioness Melas Calliore joined in.
“Handsome as a painting, and the bravest warrior in the Empire.”
Then, as if she felt something was wrong, she quickly stole a glance at Empress Kenneth.
Of course—everyone knew Emperor Herace was insecure about the Grand Duke.
Praising the Grand Duke was almost taboo.
But somehow, honesty slipped out of Melas’ mouth.
This was why the Empress often looked down on her—yet she’d blurted out nonsense again.
Cloris quickly rescued the awkward atmosphere.
“By the way, Your Majesty. If you wanted to add your sister to our study group, you could have hinted earlier. Her arrival today was so touching.”
“Ah…”
Kenneth gave a rotten smile, startled that the table’s attention had shifted to Sinclair.
“Riding the golden carriage of Emperor Julius—and even bringing the Crown Prince along… I was so moved. It reminded me of Emperor Julius and Emperor Guillaume’s days. I never imagined you’d come together.”
Indeed, Cloris Schumayer was the oldest one present.
And her family had run the Empire’s administration for generations—
she knew the past emperors better than anyone.
“So, Lady Heather, did you invite the Grand Duchess at Her Majesty’s suggestion?”
Niobe Salamis turned to the Heather Marchioness, curious.
Lady Heather glanced at Kenneth before answering honestly.
“No, not at all. My darling Coco fell from a tree and was injured, and the Grand Duke’s ‘Carikas Animal Hospital’ treated him. I invited them as thanks. But after seeing Her Majesty today, I feel like I should’ve done it sooner.”
When Marquisess Cecil looked out the window at the pets and played along, everyone turned their eyes that way.
“By the way, I heard a huge shop is opening in the Capital under the name ‘Theodore’s Gift,’ owned by the Schlezen Palace. And they say it was the Grand Duchess’ idea?”
“Yes. The Grand Duke saw the snacks I made for His Grace, and suggested I try making them into a business.”
“Oh my! A husband who encourages his wife to do business. How wonderful.”
Now Niobe Salamis leaned forward on the table, staring at Sinclair.
So the Grand Duke might be backing her?
Empress Kenneth’s mood soured.
“Grand Duchess.”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“If you’re going to run such a business, you should have stopped by the Empress Palace and consulted. Must you always stay locked away in that estate?”
Kenneth had been sending invitations to Sinclair to visit the Empress Palace.
She had much to say about the assassination attempt on the Grand Duke, after all.
And instead, this woman was delaying because of… business?
Unbelievable.
Well, now that she’s in the study group, Kenneth could see her several times a week.
“If you wanted to join the ‘Numitor Study Group,’ you could have told me. I really had no idea.”
“I didn’t even know this existed, Your Majesty.”
The noble ladies wondered—
Were these sisters putting on a scripted show?
Or did the Grand Duchess genuinely not know?
“The Crown Prince seems to want the Grand Duke included in this study group. If anyone has objections, speak now.”
“…!”
Sinclair blinked in confusion at this unexpected kindness.
She glanced at Kenneth—
And Kenneth… was smiling at her. Sweetly.
The childhood memories of terrifying tea-time lessons flashed through Sinclair’s head.
Has she turned into a better person…?
But unaware of the tension between the two, the noble ladies nodded graciously.
“As expected, His Highness is exceptional.”
said Duchess Niobe Salamis. Her eldest son was a bookworm, and her husband Nesos ran a mercenary and slave-trading company.
“I was surprised too. I never thought he cared so much for the Grand Duke.”
“And thanks to him, we now have the Grand Duchess—granddaughter of Emperor Julius—in our group. An honor.”
Marchioness Cecil smoothed the atmosphere.
Whew… everyone seemed to accept it without fuss.
Sinclair’s heart thumped.
After all, Prince Herace’s faction and Emperor Julius’ faction were bitter enemies.
When Emperor Guillaume died, Herace seized power—
and Julius’ faction was crushed.
Due to Demon Jean’s rebellion.
And yet the Empress was siding with her?
“Since we had an odd number of members, things were inconvenient. Six is much better. Even the children can pair up.”
The first to defend her was Niobe of the Salamis house, with orange hair and pale blue eyes.
Wonderful!
Sinclair clapped secretly in her heart.
Then—
“Considering he isn’t even your real child, you’re quite devoted. They say even the water and snacks at ‘Theodore’s Gift’ were made for the Grand Duke.”
It was Cloris Schumayer.
Had she met Bodrina, the Dowager Empress?
“Yes. My father sent me to the Grand Duke’s family for the Empire’s peace and safety. I wanted to change the boy’s image first.”
At that moment, Melas leaned close and whispered softly:
“Weren’t you scared? He’s a cursed child.”
Every gaze turned to Sinclair.
Sigh… how do I respond to that crude honesty?
“A cursed child…”
Everyone gulped.
“But the curse hasn’t manifested yet. Until then, he’s just an ordinary child. When you see him in the study group, you’ll know. He’s quite curious.”
“Oh…”
They remembered the little boy standing beside the Crown Prince earlier.
When the dog lunged at the Empress, the Prince moved first—
and the boy leapt forward too.
He even supported the stumbling Crown Prince.
“Actually, I’m ashamed to say I also had prejudice at first…”
Was that enough?
No. She wasn’t done.
Melas Calliore?
The Calliore family were originally new nobles.
When Herace became Emperor and forced the Empire to worship the one god Orlesion, the Calliores proudly produced Jubius, a High Priest.
After that, they zealously served the Sanctuary and were promoted to Marquisate.
Her youngest daughter, Beatrice, who was in this study group, was known to be fussy and quick-tempered when things didn’t go her way.
Possibly because of her eczema.
“Sophia.”
“Yes.”
Her maid placed a luxurious ceramic container on the table.
Everyone’s eyes went to it.
“What is that?”
Melas whispered, puzzled.
Sinclair slid the container toward her.
“…?”
Sinclair leaned in, imitating Melas, and whispered softly:
“Ointment.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because I heard Beatrice turns into a blood-soaked demon every night.”
Melas’ face turned ghost-pale.
Her eyes swept coldly over the four noblewomen—excluding the Empress.
“A demon?”
“Well, that’s just something I heard somewhere.”
“That is a rumor.”
Melas’ icy glare shifted from Kenneth toward Cecil.
Cecil lifted her chin proudly and silently crossed her index fingers in an X over her chest—
“I didn’t say it.”
Ah, the hand signal Meg taught her.
When Melas looked at the others, they all quickly crossed their fingers too, proclaiming innocence—
then took a sip of water or fanned themselves to avoid eye contact.
A chill swept across the table.
So much for being a tight-knit, loyal group.
Just as Meg instructed, Sinclair tapped the side of her water glass with her teaspoon—ting.
Meg said doing that would gather attention.
Indeed, every eye turned toward Sinclair.
