Chapter 8

As usual, Rosalie dressed up to attend the ball. While tightening the corset and adjusting the dress, Marie tilted her head. The waist and sleeves of the dress, which had been tailored to fit perfectly, were now slightly loose.

“It seems you’ve lost a bit of weight, my lady.”

“Really?”

Rosalie stared closely at her reflection in the mirror. Perhaps it was because she had little appetite and had been skipping meals—her complexion was noticeably darker, and she looked more gaunt than before.

“Would you stand straight for a moment? I’ll try to adjust it to fit you better.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Still, I’m a little worried. I’m not that skilled, so this pretty dress might end up looking shabby.”

“Marie. I trust you. So just relax and do whatever you think is best.”

Each time Marie touched Rosalie’s frail body to adjust the size, she pouted her lips.

Marie worried about everything—from Rosalie eating far less than usual, to her smile that no longer felt like a real smile. Every night when she helped Rosalie bathe and returned to her chambers, she always brought snacks.

She also made sure to tell entertaining stories while brushing Rosalie’s hair. It added another daily task of gathering gossip from the other servants, but if it made Rosalie happy, Marie was more than willing.

Unfortunately, Marie’s efforts were in vain. Her already slender waist had grown even thinner.

No matter what she said, Rosalie responded only with an emotionless smile. The tray in Marie’s hands would always have the untouched snacks she had brought. Marie worried that if this kept up, Rosalie would collapse from exhaustion.

Unable to hide her sorrow, Marie let out a heavy sigh that seemed to land on Rosalie’s back. Through the mirror, Rosalie watched Marie adjusting her dress.

She knew full well how much effort Marie had put into caring for her. But whenever she tried to eat something, her stomach churned, and she felt like she would vomit everything up. Even when Marie chattered with cheerful stories, it was as if her ears were blocked—nothing reached her.

“My lady, it’s done! This should be fine for you to enjoy the ball. If the back makes you uncomfortable, I’ll pack a shawl for you.”

Rosalie’s eyes trembled as she received the shawl. A drop of red blood was forming on Marie’s fingertip—she had pricked herself while adjusting the dress. Noticing where Rosalie’s gaze had landed, Marie quickly hid her hand behind her back.

“You’ll be late for the ball at this rate. Please go on ahead, my lady.”

A sharp pang ran through Rosalie’s chest. Marie went to such lengths for her, yet Rosalie had shown no will of her own; the thought filled her with self-reproach. Everyone in the house was surely worried. Her vow not to trouble anyone had already crumbled.

Ever since seeing Kenneth Vinzetten again, life seemed to have lost its meaning. Merely thinking of him flung her back into the horrific scene of ten years ago. She couldn’t face that brazen duke without emotion, and the very idea of attending another ball filled her with dread.

Even now her fingertips trembled slightly. Yet hiding from him and suffering alone changed nothing; it only devoured her from within.

“Marie.”

Rosalie called the maid to a halt. It was her turn to make an effort.

“When I return, I’ll tell you everything that happened at the ball. So have some cookies ready and wait for me. We’ll eat them together.”

Marie’s cheeks flushed pink.

“Yes, my lady! You mustn’t leave out a single detail, understood?”

As Rosalie headed for the entrance hall, she stopped upon seeing someone standing by the carriage. Jaden Segrington greeted her with a bright smile, his caramel-colored hair fluttering in the breeze.

“Mr. Segrington?”

“A good evening to you, Lady Cailon.”

He bowed lightly, and Rosalie dipped her knees in reply, bewilderment plain on her face; she had no idea why he was here.

“Would you honor me by accompanying me as my partner tonight?”

Rosalie glanced toward Baroness Whitman standing beside the carriage. The older woman’s calm expression suggested she already knew—or was silently granting permission.

Unable to refuse, Rosalie laid her hand atop Jaden’s broad palm. Inside the swaying carriage, his gentle voice filled the space.

“I was worried when you didn’t appear at the recent balls. I heard you left early because you were unwell, and I wondered if you might be seriously ill.”

“You were concerned about me?”

When Rosalie asked, Jaden cleared his throat deliberately; the hand resting on his thigh twitched nervously.

“Of course… I’m just glad to see you looking well again.”

At Rosalie’s gentle nod, a relaxed smile spread across her lips. Baroness Whitman looked at the two with satisfaction. Sending a letter to Jaden Segrington had indeed been the right decision. Rosalie’s once pale face now showed a hint of vitality.

After arriving at the ballroom, Jaden alighted first and escorted Rosalie. The sight of the two entering together drew many curious glances. Jaden wore a confident smile, while Rosalie glanced around stiffly. Thankfully, the man she didn’t want to see was nowhere to be found. Only then did her tense expression soften.

Starting with the first dance with Jaden, Rosalie enjoyed the ball for the first time in a long while.

Near midnight, the two sipped champagne as Rosalie animatedly recounted her victory in the ring toss. When she got to the part where Lord Morton had fallen over while throwing the ring, she had to suppress her laughter with great effort.

“Did you know there’s a summer festival in Victoria Park this Friday?”

As someone new to the capital, Rosalie naturally didn’t know. Her eyes lit up with interest as she looked up at Jaden.

“The highlight of the festival is the boat rides. They continue until the end of the event. If you don’t mind, how about a walk in Victoria Park followed by a ride? I’m quite good with the oars, you see.”

The sudden invitation left Rosalie unable to give an immediate answer. As she hesitated, Jaden rolled his eyes playfully, then gently pressed his finger on the back of her hand holding the champagne glass as if urging her.

At the mischievous gesture, a soft laugh escaped between Rosalie’s lips. One look at Jaden’s face, and she couldn’t possibly refuse.

“Alright, Mr. Segrington.”

Their glasses met with a soft clink, and they sipped their champagne together. Then suddenly, everyone’s attention turned in one direction. Rosalie instinctively followed their gaze. There, just entering the ballroom, was Duke Vinzetten.

The broad smile on Rosalie’s lips quickly froze.

“The Duke seems to be a bit late tonight.”

Jaden, catching his eye, raised his hand high in greeting, clearly pleased. He was the only one waving to the Duke from afar, and the two seemed rather close.

“I should tell the Duke about Lord Morton’s mishap later. We can’t keep such a delightful story to ourselves.”

“You must be close friends with the Duke, Mr. Segrington.”

“That’s one way to put it. Duke Vinzetten and I are cousins.”

“Cousins?”

Rosalie’s lips parted slightly. They looked and carried themselves so differently that it had never occurred to her they might be related. Jaden let out a soft chuckle, clearly used to such reactions.

“I often hear that we don’t look alike. Everyone’s always surprised.”

“…”

“Have you ever seen the Duke of Vinzetten’s face up close?”

Rosalie, who hated even the thought of his name, slowly shook her head. At that, Jaden leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers, and pointed to his own eyes. Rosalie instinctively pulled back at the sudden closeness.

“We have the same eye color. That’s the proof our blood is connected.”

Deep blue eyes like the restless sea. For a moment, Duke Vinzetten’s face overlapped Jaden’s as if it were an illusion.