Chapter 4

As the sun set, carriages began arriving at the Marquisate of Bellure, where the first ball of the social season was to be held.

Even nobles dressed in their finest found themselves speechless at the grandeur of the mansion, adorned with opulence to flaunt wealth and power. No matter how extravagant their dresses or jewels, within these walls, their value would pale in comparison.

None of the guests believed anyone could outshine the splendor of this house—except one.

“Now entering: Sir Serien Bellure and Lady Celetina Bellure!”

Nobles chatting in small groups turned their heads toward the grand entrance in unison.

It was only natural to watch the children of the host at a party held at the Bellure estate. But more than that, it was Celetina’s appearance that truly drew attention.

The flower of the social world, the woman every man desired—such was the consensus surrounding Celetina.

She was the only lady capable of outshining the grandeur of the Bellure estate. The entire hall seemed to silently agree as they gasped in admiration at the sight of her.

“Lady Bellure is truly beautiful.”

“She’s not called the flower of society for nothing.”

“Is the rumor true? That Lady Celetina might soon be engaged to the Duke of Vinzetten?”

“Anyone in the know can tell something is going on between them.”

Celetina basked in the attention, smiling gracefully at those around her.

The nobles speculated that whoever entered next would, unfortunately, be overshadowed—no one could compete. But the servant’s next announcement shattered that assumption.

“Now entering: His Grace, Duke Kenneth Vinzetten!”

Having exchanged greetings with the Marquis and Marquess of Bellure, Kenneth turned his head toward Celetina, who stood just ahead.

When Celetina extended her hand, Kenneth naturally took it and kissed the back of it.

Meeting Kenneth’s blue eyes as he kissed her hand sent a shiver down Celetina’s spine.

“It seems the rumors are about to become reality.”

The nobles who witnessed the moment were convinced: Celetina Bellure would soon become the Duchess of Vinzetten.

The Bellure couple welcomed every guest who approached them, eager to make lasting impressions. Though the procession of guests continued, no one could steal the spotlight from Celetina that night.

“She’s thinking of holding a garden party soon. It would truly make me happy if Your Grace could attend…”

Celetina waited eagerly to hear Kenneth’s positive reply. She wanted everyone present to witness the Duke of the Empire move at her single word. But no matter how long she waited, Kenneth said nothing.

“Your Grace?”

Celetina, her head lowered in shy anticipation, looked up at him with a puzzled heart. His blue eyes, which ought to be focused entirely on her, were unbelievably directed elsewhere. As if entranced, her gaze followed his.

There stood the woman who had just greeted them and walked away. With each graceful step, her luscious red hair swayed over her chest, and her green eyes sparkled like rare jewels.

Celetina recalled the headline that had ruined her mood just days ago:

“The Lady Who Stole Prince Raymond’s Heart: Rosalie Cailon.”

She remembered now that this very woman was the subject of the article that hinted the belle of the social season might soon change.

Her gaze chilled instantly.

Kenneth’s eyes chased after Rosalie until not even a single strand of her hair was visible.

Celetina disliked that Kenneth, standing beside her, had eyes for another. As the orchestra’s music swelled, she extended her hand to him again.

“Of course, you’ll have the first dance with me, won’t you?”

Kenneth, wearing an indifferent expression, took Celetina’s hand. Determined to cement herself as the true flower of the season, Celetina wore a beautiful smile.

As the ball began in earnest, gentlemen invited ladies they fancied to dance.

Many hands were extended toward Rosalie as well, but she declined most of them with various excuses. After a string of rejections, no one approached her for a time.

While Baroness Whitman grew anxious, Rosalie was rather relieved and began enjoying the ball in earnest. Watching the delighted faces of the dancing couples was quite amusing.

Rosalie began flipping through the portrait booklet she received upon entering the mansion.

Having debuted in society, she was no longer alone. Her actions now reflected on both Baroness Whitman and the Kinson Count family.

‘I must not disgrace my family.’

Realizing she had turned down dance requests despite knowing this, she felt sheepish about her contradictory behavior. Yet, she simply couldn’t muster the courage.

Deciding instead to start by memorizing the faces of those attending tonight’s party, she continued turning the pages.

Her fingers, flipping effortlessly, froze as if paralyzed at one page.

‘Kenneth Vinzetten…’

The moment she saw the page bearing Kenneth’s portrait, Rosalie’s breath trembled once more. Her hand, closing the portrait booklet, quivered slightly. Clutching at her dress hem, Rosalie tried desperately to calm her roiling emotions.

Having debuted into society, it was inevitable she would encounter Kenneth. He might be somewhere in the ballroom even now.

Rosalie took a deep breath, steadied herself, and forced a faint smile. To survive in society, one had to learn how to control their emotions.

Moments later, another man approached her.

“Lady Cailon, would you do me the honor of the first dance?”

As Rosalie hesitated reflexively, Baroness Whitman gently pressed a hand to her niece’s back. For Rosalie’s reputation and future, it was best to stop refusing now.

Jaden Segrington, the one asking for the dance, was a man favored by many young ladies for his handsome appearance and good character. As the second son of the Segrington Marquisate, he wouldn’t inherit the family, but as a vassal of the Duke of Vinzetten, his prospects were far from dim. Thus, associating with Jaden was not a bad choice.

“Are you all right?”

As Rosalie’s body swayed slightly, Jaden took her hand and supported her. At the sound of his warm voice, Rosalie slowly looked up at him.

A step behind, Baroness Whitman opened her fan and covered her smiling lips.

Seeing how Rosalie looked at Jaden, the baroness figured she no longer needed to intervene.

When Jaden gave a light squeeze to her hand and smiled, Rosalie smiled back and slowly nodded.

As Jaden escorted Rosalie to the center of the floor, all eyes turned toward them.

The violin melody shifted, and Jaden wrapped an arm around Rosalie’s waist—a careful touch, as if a mere brush might cause injury.

The two stepped together and began to dance. Each time their eyes met, Jaden offered a sunshine-like smile.

Baroness Whitman’s story about how her parents had met at their first ball came to Rosalie’s mind.

Had her parents begun this way too?

Just as Rosalie admitted to herself that Jaden’s first impression wasn’t bad, his hand slipped away. In his place, someone else dancing nearby stepped in.

Realizing too late that the music involved a temporary partner switch, Rosalie quickly composed herself and placed her hand on the man’s shoulder.

She flinched slightly at the strong arm pulling her waist closer, but raised her head calmly. The moment her eyes met those deep eyes looking down at her, what little smile she had vanished.

The man who had replaced Jaden was none other than Kenneth Vinzetten—the one she had never forgotten for a single moment.