TRACR 82

Chapter 82

“It’s not that…”

Alicia was about to say that such deep, beautiful blue eyes weren’t common, but she stopped herself.

Octavio, full of confidence, continued,
“Besides, why would Duke Johannes ever settle for a woman like Rebecca? That woman was abandoned by both her count and by God. Do you remember how miserable her end was? It’s impossible for her to appear again without a single scar in such a short time. And there’s no way the Obelia family could afford such expensive dresses.”

Despite his confident tone, Alicia still looked uneasy. She clutched her chest and murmured,
“The Obelia family definitely said they’d paid off all their debts…”

“Octavio.”

At the cold call of her name, both Octavio and Alicia turned their heads.

“The Count ordered that we check the second floor one last time before the night ends,” said Grace.

“I was just about to. The servants’ movements have been suspicious lately. By the way, I didn’t see you at all during the ball. Where have you been hiding yourself?”

Octavio’s tone was deliberately provocative.

Grace, without even glancing at him, replied icily,
“Do I need to report my every move to you?”

At her cutting tone, Octavio only shrugged lightly.
“Of course not. Understood. I’ll get on with it.”

He disappeared through the crowd and made his way up the grand staircase.

Once he was gone, Grace turned her attention to Alicia.

As soon as Grace’s indifferent gaze met hers, Alicia instinctively flinched. Then she remembered she was the Countess — Grace was the subordinate. Straightening her back, she tried to look composed.

Grace spoke, her voice as dry as sand,
“Staying in a corner like this doesn’t look good. Didn’t you tell me countless times that you’re the hostess tonight? Go out there and fulfill your role. You wanted to enter high society, didn’t you? I’ll introduce you to Marchioness Petunia. If you can win her favor, your social standing will be secured.”

Her tone wasn’t exactly kind, but compared to her usual disdain, it was an unexpected show of help.

Alicia, bewildered yet hopeful, quickly followed behind Grace.

“Marchioness Petunia,” Grace said smoothly. “This is Alicia Devonshire, the Countess.”

“Oh my, Grace. It’s been too long,” Petunia greeted with a radiant smile.

Her alluring gaze slid past Grace’s impassive face and came to rest on Alicia, who stood awkwardly by.

“Pleased to meet you. Are you enjoying the ball?”

Trying to hide her stiff lips, Alicia forced a gentle, innocent smile. Her only strong point was her harmless, naïve beauty — she decided to lean into that.

It seemed to work. The sharpness in Petunia’s eyes softened a little.

“Of course I’m enjoying it,” Petunia said. “The Devonshire Autumn Ball is my favorite of all. I heard you were in charge this year? You have such a classic taste — just like previous years.”

“Thank you! I worked very hard!” Alicia beamed.

In truth, Petunia’s comment had been a veiled insult — implying that nothing about the ball had changed because Alicia hadn’t really done anything new. But Alicia, too inexperienced to detect such nuance, accepted the remark at face value and thanked her earnestly.

How dull, Petunia thought.

She had expected more from the woman rumored to have stolen the count’s heart from Rebecca. She’d heard that Alicia was a crude and foolish commoner, but Petunia had assumed the truth would be more interesting — that anyone bold enough to dye her hair and change her eye color must have real ambition and cunning.

But now she saw it. The rumors were true — Alicia was nothing more than a shallow, dim-witted girl blinded by greed.

Petunia quickly raised her mask to hide the smirk tugging at her lips. The peacock feathers attached to it fluttered softly.

Still… she could make for an amusing distraction.

The Devonshire family was immensely wealthy. Befriending the new countess wouldn’t hurt. Alicia looked like the type to shower her with expensive jewels at the slightest show of kindness.

Petunia dismissed the people trying to speak to her and gracefully took Alicia’s arm.

“I’ve been meaning to meet you,” she said sweetly. “But the Count never leaves your side — I could hardly get a word in. You’re even lovelier than the rumors said.”

The fact that one of the most sought-after noblewomen in society had chosen to approach her made Alicia’s heart race.

Ever since Julian’s provocation earlier that evening, she’d felt the subtle contempt in the eyes of other guests — but now the queen of society herself had linked arms with her.

The look of surprise on everyone’s faces was deeply satisfying.

Besides, Petunia was a woman in a similar situation — or so Alicia thought.

Petunia had once been the mistress of the Marquis Langster. When the childless marquis’s wife died of old age, Petunia married him and became the official Marchioness. Her son became the marquis’s heir, and Langster adored both mother and son deeply.

His affection gave her enormous influence. Petunia wasn’t just a name — she was a brand.

Alicia gazed at her with admiration.
To think that a woman of humble origins could rise to become the envy of all! She wanted to be just like her.

Watching the marquis’s wife — with her gleaming red hair and bold, confident features — Alicia said earnestly,
“But beauty isn’t everything. Please teach me. I want to be like you, Marchioness Petunia.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Petunia’s emerald eyes.

The nature of Alicia’s admiration was deeply insulting. The girl clearly believed they were the same — both commoners who had climbed through ambition.

Ridiculous.

Petunia may not have been born rich, but she was still of noble blood. She was nothing like this backwater girl who had schemed her way into replacing a divorced countess.

Petunia had never plotted against the late marchioness. She’d merely waited — patiently, properly — until fate granted her the title. Her rise had been respectable, not scandalous.

Alicia, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be me.

Petunia hid her scorn behind a gracious smile.

In truth, she’d been a little bored tonight — and watching Alicia’s hopeless ambition might be the perfect entertainment.

She glanced toward the center of the ballroom, where Zeppelin was passionately describing his new business plan.

Alicia didn’t seem to care at all what her husband was saying — her eyes were fixed instead on Petunia’s jeweled bracelet.

I see… I should meet her at her level, Petunia thought, feigning a small headache.

“I can’t even focus on what the Count is saying,” she said dramatically. “Let’s not stand here — shall we go see the chocolate fountain? It looks divine.”

“You thought the same as I did! I was surprised when I first saw it too. It tastes amazing — you must try some.”

“Gladly.”

Petunia smiled dazzlingly back at Alicia’s shy, genuine grin.

Already, the whispers had begun — comparisons between the two women. Naturally, most of the murmurs favored Petunia, praising her elegance while dismissing Alicia’s clumsy charm.

Yes, it was a bit of a cruel game… but Petunia always enjoyed this sort of thing.

This season, she thought, she’d found herself a very amusing companion.

* * *

“Are we almost there?”

“Almost.”

While waiting outside the carriage, Rebecca kicked a pebble idly.

Canna, offended by the sight, muttered,
“How dare he keep Lady Rebecca waiting! How insolent.”

“He said he needed time to prepare — we’re going to the Hall of Light, remember?”

“No one will be paying attention to me anyway. It’s not an important role. He should just stay quiet in the carriage.”

“Hey, I can hear you,” came Julian’s irritated voice from inside. A moment later, the door swung open with a dull thud.

He stepped down from the carriage, dressed in a dark navy tailcoat, his golden hair hidden beneath a brown wig. With the white mask on his face, he looked like an entirely different man.

Rebecca adjusted a strand of the wig, smiling.
“Brown hair suits you. You found a good, natural-looking wig.”

Julian’s eyes sparkled. “Really? It looks okay?”

“Yeah. I like it better down like this — no one will suspect a thing.”

“You look great in a maid’s uniform too… ah, wait, is that actually a compliment?”

“‘Looks good on you’ is always a compliment.”

Canna, watching their banter, absently touched her own black hair. Maybe she should buy some dye, she thought.

Then Rebecca clapped her hands once.
“All right, enough talking. Everyone, back to your positions.”

“What about Croa?”

“Already inside the Hall of Light. Leo just brought word that everything’s ready.”

Rebecca looked down affectionately at Leo, who yawned at her feet.

Julian frowned — she always seemed too fond of that fox. He glanced between them, his expression stiffening.

“Just stay here and keep watch,” he told Leo sharply. “If anyone comes near the carriage, alert me immediately.”