Chapter 1. The Audacious Broker

The whole thing started two months ago when she took a wrong turn and stumbled into a high-society ladies’ tea party.

‘Miss Liz Clairemont? I never expected to meet a celebrity from Bellum Girls’ Academy, no, from Bergen itself, in a place like this.’

A single cup of tea shared with Amelia Bonecia, known as the flower of Bergen, capital of the Kingdom of Bellum. That was how it all began.

Liz steadied her breathing and stared down at the pocket watch in her hand. Each weighty tick of the second hand filled the quiet room, and her heartbeat followed along in its rhythm, soft and measured.

What on earth was I thinking.

Regret came crashing in, but the water had already been spilled.

‘Liz, thank you.’

She had watched Amelia wave goodbye with that smile on her face, and in that moment, Liz had been absolutely certain she would never regret this choice. Now, her fingertips were trembling.

And with good reason. No matter how little she cared about what people thought, the person she was about to face was someone she could barely handle.

Thud. Thud.

Measured footsteps rang through the corridor, heavy and unhurried, drawing closer.

With each even stride, the pressure mounted, and Liz’s fingertips went cold.

“Liz, pull yourself together. You’ve done this countless times before. Even the most famous duke in the kingdom isn’t going to eat you alive over this.”

She tried to talk herself down, but the moment the footsteps stopped just beyond the door, her heart plummeted. The door swung open. A rush of cold air swept in, and a man’s voice cut through the bridal waiting room.

“Lady Amelia.”

He stepped inside calling another woman’s name.

An elegant figure with sunlight at his back walked through the doorway, and Liz forgot to breathe.

The Golden Lion of Walter Street.

At only twenty-seven, he was the supreme head of Eisenhart Bank, the institution that controlled the economy of the central capital. Johann von Ashworth, Duke of Ashworth.

A man of such stature that rumors claimed even a royal decree sometimes lost its power in his presence. Now those sharp eyes swept over Liz, a marquis’s daughter with no claim to a title, with undisguised curiosity.

Liz swallowed a dry lump in her throat and spoke.

“Amelia is gone.”

Those three words twisted the air in the room.

A deep crease formed between the duke’s brows. Not mere irritation. It was the displeasure of a man whose perfectly controlled plan had just gone off course.

“Even if you send someone, it will be too late. She would have boarded the ship by now. Even if Your Grace controls every port in the country, there is no stopping a ship that has already sailed.”

She had rehearsed for this moment many times over.

No matter how capable this man was, there was no way to halt a ship already out at sea.

Without so much as a twitch of an eyebrow, the duke crossed the bridal waiting room with unhurried grace. The tailored tailcoat fit him to perfection, every movement radiating restrained authority. He walked as though strolling through a ballroom, yet the force radiating from each step pressed down on Liz’s lungs.

A cool, cynical man who showed no reaction to the news that his bride had fled. He slowly peeled off his white evening gloves, each motion clean and without excess, and came to a stop in front of her.

Even the act of folding the gloves was precise.

His lips parted slowly.

“Miss Liz Clairemont.”

Liz’s eyes widened in surprise. She had never once imagined the Duke of Ashworth would know her name. The answer came sooner than expected.

“The wedding saboteur. Or should I call you the audacious broker who takes pleasure in helping brides escape?”

“……!”

He knew not only her name but the nickname people had pinned on her. Liz’s mouth fell open.

“What brings a lady with such a meddlesome nature, always sticking her nose into other people’s love affairs, to my wedding?”

The words were politely phrased but hit like a blade to the face. He tilted his head slightly, and something like understanding settled across his handsome features.

“No, wait. A lady notorious for smuggling brides away being present here, that answers itself, doesn’t it.”

A faint, soundless laugh escaped him. That near-contemptuous smile made Liz’s heart stutter.

“To think I would meet in person the very lady who has earned the wrath of every man she has robbed of his bride. I am almost honored.”

Liz swallowed a sigh at the social custom of choosing the most cutting words possible while wearing a pleasant expression, and met the duke’s gaze head-on.

“I’m glad you know who I am. It saves the explanation. Please give up on this marriage. I mean no disrespect, but Amelia does not love you.”

“An obvious thing to say. Perhaps it will be easier to understand if I tell you that I have never once entertained the notion of being in love with Miss Amelia either.”

The reply came as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Before the surprise could settle, his expression turned another degree colder.

“What I wonder is whether you have any awareness of the significant damage you have just done to my business.”

“With respect, this wedding is cancelled.”

He responded with nothing more than a casual flick of his fingers.

“No matter. Dress her.”

There was no time to ask what he meant. A servant stepped through the flung-open door and pulled back a cloth hanging to one side of the mirror, revealing a wedding dress, white as snow.

Liz’s eyes flew wide. It was the exact same dress Amelia had taken with her.

“Why is this……here……”

The man’s preparedness was thorough. He flicked his index finger again, and maids appeared from nowhere, surrounding Liz and reaching for her clothes without a word. Buttons came undone before she could even cry out, and she was stripped where she stood.

“Eek! What do you think you’re doing!”

“You let the bride run away. You should have been prepared to take her place.”

“……!”

The full meaning of those words hit her, and Liz stopped breathing.

The most brilliant man in Bellum drew his lips into a smooth, unhurried smile.

“From here on, you will be my wife. I look forward to it, Duchess Liz Ashworth.”

Good Lord.

Liz’s hazelnut eyes shook.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Soft sunlight slipped down through the stained glass set into the arching ceiling of the old church.

In the solemn, reverent atmosphere, the assembled guests kept stealing glances toward the central aisle doors, gilded with golden ornaments, their eyes brimming with anticipation.

“Even for a marquis’s family, isn’t the gap in rank too great? Everyone in Bellum knows the Bonecia marquisate is a declining house, and the match is the Ashworth Dukedom. Even in an arranged marriage, the families ought to be comparable……”

“Shh, haven’t you heard the rumor? I mean the large-scale national railway development project the Duke of Ashworth is currently pushing forward. He needs approval from the conservative noble senate, and the Marquis of Bonecia holds strong voting power within that senate. They say the engagement was arranged to secure the business permit.”

Before the ceremony began, guests murmured about the circumstances behind the wedding.

Two months ago, news had struck Bergen, the capital, like a thunderclap: Johann von Ashworth, Duke of Ashworth, was to wed Amelia, daughter of the Bonecia marquisate.

Many noble houses had set their sights on Johann von Ashworth, young head of the Ashworth Dukedom and chief executive of Eisenhart Bank, the institution underpinning the economy of the Kingdom of Bellum. Yet he had never once accepted a marriage proposal.

His sudden choice of the Bonecia marquisate was taken by everyone as a calculated political marriage aimed at obtaining the business license.

“I suppose so. Still, it seems like an odd choice for someone so calculating.”

“That is how arranged marriages work, isn’t it. Eisenhart always comes out with the greater profit, one way or another.”

“The bride and groom will be entering shortly.”

Just as the guests’ murmuring swelled, a staff member’s announcement swallowed the noise.

The closed doors at the far end of the red carpet swung open with a heavy sound, and a young man and woman appeared arm in arm. The guests blinked. The bride had come in on Johann’s arm, not her father’s, the Marquis.

Eyes searched for the tradition-minded marquis as the crowd stirred. Meanwhile, Liz had just spotted the wedding aisle stretching ahead and pulled a sharp breath.

She had planted her feet and refused to go in, but then the doors swung wide, and the guests turned to look, and her body locked up entirely.

“W… wait. You actually intend to walk in there with me? Everyone will notice I’m not Amelia.”

“Of course. Wasn’t this what you wanted when you helped my bride escape? You may have acted without thinking until now, but I don’t operate that way.”

The faint amusement in his voice made her head spin. This man was known to be so rational that people said he had no feelings at all. She could not believe he was doing something this reckless.

“Let’s see you clean up the mess you made.”

Taking advantage of her bewilderment, Johann hooked her hand over his arm and stepped forward. Snapping back to her senses, Liz dug her heels in and resisted.

“Ugh, Your Grace, I understand you’ve had a shock, but please think clearly. No matter how shaken you are that your bride ran away, marrying a woman you’ve never met in your life is completely unreasonable.”

“What else can I do. This marriage involves thirty trillion verique. The bride who walked away from that is your responsibility to replace.”

The staggering figure left Liz reeling, her lips moving soundlessly. He watched her stiffen under the quiet pressure of being told to own her actions, and the corner of his mouth curved upward into a slow, languid arc.

“Besides, marrying you isn’t entirely a loss for me.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I appreciate your eagerness to play the role of my wife already, but my mind is perfectly sound, so spare me the concern.”

They took one step forward, stopped, bickered, took another step. Applause from the guests cascaded over them. Anxiety flooded Liz’s face with heat.

“I’m asking whose life you plan to ruin. No matter what, this makes no sense.”