Chapter 76
The Marchioness of Severia clicked her tongue softly.
“I knew it the moment I stepped into this mansion. So don’t think you can fool me.”
In her eyes, there wasn’t a single person under this roof who didn’t realize what was in Claudio’s heart. Even the designer, who had only come today, must have sensed it.
“Anyway, I approve. I thought you’d grow old and die alone, and yet here we are.”
That Marsha had been born a commoner hardly mattered. The Marchioness knew better than anyone that status was like a garment—it could be worn or stripped away. What truly defined a person was their character. And Marsha had exactly the kind of nature this willful man so desperately needed.
“The Marchioness’s opinion doesn’t weigh heavily when it comes to deciding the most important matter of my life. And besides…”
Claudio frowned, muttering under his breath.
“Do you really think I can manage that on my own?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“…”
His silence was answer enough. The Marchioness turned her head toward the girl standing nearby. Marsha had been watching the two of them with wide, curious eyes, wondering what they were whispering about.
…Don’t tell me this is just an unspoken infatuation?
Then Claudio spoke in a weary tone.
“Whatever you do, don’t breathe a word of this to her. She doesn’t know a thing.”
What? Marsha doesn’t even know?
So it wasn’t that he’d confessed and been left unanswered—it was that he hadn’t even tried.
When did this boy turn into such a coward?
The Marchioness pressed her throbbing temples.
***
At last, the day arrived. Marsha drew a long, shaky breath.
Ugh. I can’t let myself get nervous already.
She half-wished someone would knock her out cold and only wake her when it was all over. What if she slipped up and revealed she wasn’t truly the Viscountess of Railford?
And what if, by showing my shortcomings, I only ignite the other ladies’ determination to pursue the Duke even harder?
Most of all, there was Beatrice. Could she really fool her? Even if her false identity held up, wouldn’t Beatrice think, If such a clumsy girl can stand beside him, then surely I can too, and chase Claudio all the more?
Huh?
Suddenly, a sharp, prickling pain stabbed in her chest. She frowned, pressing her hand against it, when a smooth voice cut through.
“Your nerves are so loud, I can feel them from here.”
Claudio’s eyes curved in an easy smile as he looked down at her.
“Of course I’m nervous. Anyone in my position would be.”
She exhaled quickly and glanced down at herself.
“Do I look strange anywhere?”
“Beautiful.”
The answer came instantly. Surprised, she lifted her head, only for him to add:
“You’re beautiful no matter what you wear. So don’t worry so much.”
“You don’t have to flatter me to boost my confidence. I’m not that nervous.”
Her cheeks turned pink as she pouted faintly.
But I’m not saying it to flatter you.
Claudio meant every word. Marsha could take a simple dress from a village boutique and make it look like haute couture, and a haute couture gown looked like the rarest masterpiece when she wore it.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy about this party. She was too lovely—others were bound to take notice.
Ah… as expected, a plan born of impulse always ends in disaster.
He resolved to never again dive into things so recklessly. From now on, every step would be prepared meticulously. And this party was crucial—the perfect place to meet the people he needed for his plans.
But first, something else had to be addressed.
“…Marsha.”
Her eyes flew wide, as if it were the first time he had ever called her name.
“You haven’t forgotten why I asked this favor of you, have you?”
“Of course not.”
She pouted again. Wasn’t she doing all of this terrifying charade to shake off the bizarre attention of the Marquis of Hemes’s daughter?
“But in truth, that reason doesn’t matter much anymore.”
His voice was calm, almost lazy. Marsha blinked slowly.
“…Then why did you ask me?”
“Well…”
He smiled faintly, answering in his unhurried way.
When she narrowed her eyes, thinking he was teasing her again, he said:
“I’ll tell you when the time is right.”
“But I’m curious now.”
“And I’d like to tell you now. But we’re about to step into the hall. So let me explain what’s truly important for tonight.”
His tone grew serious. Marsha straightened unconsciously, eyes fixed on him.
“What is it?”
“There will be many people eager to get close to me. I’ll ignore most, as usual. But there is one person I must speak with.”
She assumed it was some business matter—until his next words chilled her.
“To bring down the ones who nearly killed me.”
“…You’ve discovered who it was?”
Her eyes trembled. Claudio hesitated, then decided to be honest.
“Yes.”
“!”
She covered her mouth with both hands, shocked.
“But it’s not time to strike. They don’t even realize I know yet.”
No, he would wait for the perfect moment—quiet, precise. Tonight’s conversation would be the beginning of their downfall.
“In any case, you may end up on your own for longer than expected.”
His gaze softened, full of apology.
“If the Marchioness hadn’t fallen ill, that wouldn’t have been necessary.”
“That’s…”
Marsha’s shoulders slumped.
She worried herself sick preparing this party.
She felt responsible for the Marchioness’s condition, but Claudio knew better. It was the series of shocking, unforeseen events that had worn the older woman down.
“Don’t fret too much. You’ll manage beautifully. I know you will.”
His easy smile returned.
“…Do you really think so?”
Her eyes still flickered with doubt, but her breathing eased. Her anxiety seemed to harden into determination—not to fail him.
He hadn’t meant to burden her with responsibility, but the fire in her eyes now… that was the Marcia he knew.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
“Of course. I’m never wrong.”
***
“You’re rather late…”
In the ballroom, guests were already whispering in clusters, restless without the host.
“Did you hear? The Duke gave that young lady full authority over the entire party.”
“Impossible. That’s always the hostess’s role!”
“Well, considering he practically bought out all of Delua’s jewelers and dressmakers for her, maybe it’s true…”
“What’s so extraordinary about her, anyway?”
Some buzzed with wonder and jealousy. Others marveled at the rare sight of western nobles among the crowd.
“Even the westerners have come?”
“No one refuses a Gloria invitation. If this rebuilds relations with the West, all the better.”
The Marquis of Hemes thought both things at once.
So, the mad Duke is finally set on marriage? To such a lowborn girl, no less!
If only he had married—or at least betrothed—Beatrice, she would never have wasted herself chasing him so brazenly.
That bastard must have enjoyed stringing her along!
Still, if Claudio tied himself to some powerless family’s daughter? The Marquis could only laugh.
It won’t tarnish the Gloria name, but it won’t elevate it either.
He was still grinning to himself when the hall fell silent. The guest of honor had arrived.
Most parties had the host arrive early to welcome guests. Only royal balls and the Gloria ducal house had the audacity to make others wait.
“Thank you all for coming.”
The Duke began. All eyes clung to him, that man who seemed forged from every good thing the world had to offer—until he spoke again.
“This may be the Gloria family’s party, but you all know who the true star is tonight.”
His arm slipped around Marsha’s shoulders. Every gaze turned sharply to her.
So that’s the Viscountess of Railford.
The one who saved his life.
Curiosity, envy, scorn—all those sharp stares fixed on her.
She’s actually quite pretty.
I’m prettier. She just got lucky.
So the Duke does care about looks after all.
Pretty, yes, but hardly breathtaking.
A thousand thoughts flashed across glittering eyes. Claudio glanced down at her, worried those hostile gazes might frighten her.
But Marcia wasn’t frightened. She was too preoccupied with the weight of his hand on her shoulder.
Why… why is he suddenly holding me like this?!
