Chapter 3.9

When the seemingly endless waltz finally came to an end, Luette quickly escorted the second daughter of the House of Hezen, his dance partner, back to her parents. But almost immediately, he found himself having to partner with another young lady.  

He thought of using his wife, Solnia, as an excuse, claiming he needed her permission, but she was nowhere to be found—not even a strand of her hair in sight.  

Ignoring a lady was not the conduct of a gentleman, and unfortunately, he had to be the perfect gentleman. So, once again, he had to entertain yet another young lady.  

And just as he resolved to escape from the ballroom altogether—  

“Earl.”  

The Dowager Heston stepped in front of him.  

“There’s a young lady I’d like to introduce to you.”  

Why is she so enthusiastic today?  

The role of a hostess at such a ball was to bring together the most outstanding individuals in the room and create opportunities for them to notice each other. But today, the Dowager was particularly diligent in her efforts.  

Of course, if one were to objectively choose the most outstanding gentleman in the room, it would undoubtedly be Luette Trovill—himself.  

As someone already married, the only thing left for him to do was to serve as the first dance partner for young ladies who had just debuted in society.  

To provide the best experience for these ladies, who were still unfamiliar and awkward in such settings—that was likely his role for the evening.  

And it seemed that Dowager Heston was determined to make full use of him.  

“Yes, please go ahead.”  

Resigned, Luette flashed a charming smile. However, his brows furrowed as soon as he saw the young lady approaching.  

“Earl, this is Lady Merlin Hartrol, the eldest daughter of the Marquess of Hartrol. She’s a young lady I hold dear.”  

As Lady Hartrol gracefully curtsied in greeting, Luette’s brows furrowed further.  

Had the great Dowager Heston finally lost her mind?  

“Good evening, Earl.”  

Luette let out a faint, incredulous laugh.  

Merlin Hartrol.  

The eldest daughter of the Marquess of Hartrol and a woman with whom he had once been involved in favorable marriage talks. Had Solnia not appeared, he might have ended up marrying her without much ado.  

The Duchess of Trovill had particularly liked Merlin Hartrol. While the House of Hartrol was not an old noble family, it was one of the wealthiest, with a spotless reputation.  

Moreover, Merlin Hartrol, the eldest daughter, was as graceful and refined as any noblewoman.  

With her bright blonde hair and blue eyes, she possessed a rather striking appearance. The Duchess had likely thought that such a composed young lady would be able to win over her unruly son.  

But as everyone knew, Luette had married Solnia, and the marriage talks with the House of Hartrol had fallen through.  

Of course, rumors had circulated afterward, claiming, ‘Luette Trovill couldn’t forget an old love and ran out of the mansion in the middle of the night, leaving the young lady from the Marquess’ family heartbroken and fasting for three days and nights.’  

It had been nothing more than marriage talks, not even an engagement, and broken arrangements were common enough. Luette hadn’t given the rumors much thought, nor did he feel particularly sorry.  

And now, standing before him was the young lady he had brushed off without much concern—one who certainly didn’t look like she had starved herself for three days and nights.  

“It’s been a while, Earl.”  

Her voice was as delicate as her appearance. Merlin Hartrol’s long, bright blonde hair cascaded down her back, and her slightly exposed shoulders appeared sharp.  

Luette’s gaze shifted from her to Dowager Heston, who had returned to her seat. His disapproving look prompted Merlin Hartrol to step closer to him.  

“Don’t blame the Dowager. She probably just wanted to introduce us.”  

‘Just an introduction,’ he thought, amused.  

The Dowager Heston, who knew every detail of the Kingdom’s noble families, could not possibly be unaware of the history between him and Merlin Hartrol.  

“I’m not blaming her.”  

Whatever the case, it didn’t matter. Resolving to treat it as a chore to be completed, Luette stepped closer to Merlin.  

The orchestra in the corner began to play, and following the predetermined sequence of events, Luette took Merlin Hartrol’s hand and placed his other hand on her waist.  

“If you’re not blaming the Dowager… does that mean you’re not happy to see me?”  

Merlin Hartrol asked in a trembling voice. Her blue eyes, gazing up at him, glistened with unshed tears.  

To an outsider, it might have looked as if they were star-crossed lovers, tragically separated by fate.  

Luette almost asked her why he should be glad to see her. But instead, he smiled gently, just as his wife had advised him to do.  

“Of course, I’m glad to see you.”  

***

Evan narrowed his eyes and asked, 

“Do you know how shocked I was when I heard you two were getting married?”  

“Well, that’s…”  

“You used to follow me around, and now look at you.”  

Evan leaned in and whispered, his playful gaze sparkling. Solnia gently pushed his face away, laughing softly.  

“Sorry. I just feel like teasing you since it’s been so long.”  

She understood how he felt. She, too, was overjoyed to see him after such a long time. Just sitting across from him and exchanging pleasantries made the otherwise unbearable event seem tolerable.  

“This place hasn’t changed a bit.”  

Stretching and looking around, Evan murmured nostalgically.  

Solnia, glancing around as well, suddenly recalled a memory.  

“Do you remember? When you made a wreath with white roses for me and got scolded by my Grandmother?”  

“Oh, right. That happened. Sometimes, I still feel like my backside aches—it must be from the beating I got back then.”  

Evan rubbed his lower back with an exaggerated expression, making Solnia laugh.  

But Evan, you’ll never know.  

Grandmother didn’t scold you just because you picked a few fallen flowers.  

She scolded you because you picked those flowers for me.  

For daring to care about someone who shouldn’t even be in this house.  

“Now that I think about it, there are so many white roses here. The Dowager must have prepared them for you.”  

“…”  

It was amusing. Because Evan said so, it almost felt true. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though this beautiful party was truly meant for a beloved granddaughter.  

At least, during this moment of meeting his gaze.  

Then, Evan reached out and tucked a stray strand of Solnia’s hair behind her ear. His touch was warm and gentle.  

“It seems she wanted to show you only the most beautiful things.”  

“…”  

Looking into his eyes, which seemed to radiate a warmth that could be felt if touched, Solnia thought:  

What if I had married this man?  

It wasn’t that she hadn’t considered Evan as a potential match.  

But he was too kind. Too pure, too righteous to ever participate in her schemes.  

Still, sometimes she wondered.  

On days when the loneliness became unbearable, when even courage felt trampled by indifference—  

If it had been Evan…  

‘If I had told him the reason I don’t want to go to the capital is…’

Would he have listened?’  

Solnia shook her head lightly, cutting off her thoughts.  

“If you put it that way, I should thank Grandmother again.”  

“Make sure to tell her I suggested it. I could use the praise.”  

It was true that Solnia had liked Evan when she was younger. Of course, she still liked him now, but not romantically.  

To her, Evan was the only person who had listened to her when everyone else pretended she didn’t exist—a friend, almost a benefactor.  

Thus, she did not regret marrying Luette. He might be cold, but he would see this marriage through to the end with perfection.