Marquis Lancel’s mansion was as splendid as the Duke Celestine’s estate. Along both sides of the path leading from the main gate to the mansion, a garden landscape spread out, seemingly tended daily by gardeners, and in front of the mansion, a large fountain was spraying water refreshingly.

As we got out of the carriage, servants waiting in front of the mansion guided us to the garden.

An outdoor banquet hall had been set up in one corner of the spacious garden.

Tables and chairs were set up on the lawn with food placed on them, a band was playing music on one side, and well-dressed men and women were gathered in small groups here and there, chatting amiably.

While the decorations and music were excellent, what caught my eye most was the food piled high on one table. Perhaps because I hadn’t eaten breakfast, my stomach seemed to growl as soon as I saw the food.

“Let’s greet the Marquis and Marchioness first.”

Ilion immediately put the brakes on, as if he knew what was on my mind.

Right, I hadn’t just come here to play.

I turned my gaze away, dripping with regret, and followed Ilion.

It wasn’t difficult to find the Marchioness of Lancel. As Sebastian had said, there was only one person wearing a pink dress in this banquet hall.

It would have been quite a sight worthy of criticism if I had thrown a tantrum and come wearing a pink dress. Although I didn’t want to be grateful, it was fortunate that thanks to Ilion, I had avoided one thing that would have earned me criticism in social circles.

“Oh my, who do we have here? Isn’t it Duke Celestine?”

Contrary to expectations, the middle-aged Marchioness greeted me and Ilion with a jovial air.

“To think that someone so rarely seen has come here, have I lived long enough? Don’t you think?”

“What are you saying… I’m just grateful for your invitation.”

“I see the Duke has developed a talent for saying things he doesn’t mean.”

At the Marchioness’s words, Ilion smiled awkwardly, unable to keep up. Even Ilion seemed unable to match the verbal skills of the Marchioness, who had over a decade of experience in social circles.

“And isn’t this the much-rumored Miss Rischefeld?”

The Marchioness turned her head to look at me.

“Happy birthday, Madam.”

I lifted my skirt as gracefully as possible, showing the results of my practice with Lily.

“I was worried it might be an inconvenience to invite you so suddenly, but thank you for coming. By the way, I wondered what kind of person had stolen the Duke’s heart, but to think it was such a lovely person. I can see why the Duke has been trying to hide you all this time.”

I don’t know how to react when someone I’ve just met praises me like this.

“As much as I’d like to chat more, the guests are waiting, so shall we talk again later, Miss Rischefeld? I’ll come find you when the Duke isn’t around.”

Saying this, Marchioness Lancel winked at me.

True to my first impression, she was quite a jovial character with a strong social butterfly tendency. And I could somewhat understand why Ilion didn’t want to come to this party.

A person at the center of social circles and Ilion, there couldn’t be a more incompatible pair.

After exchanging brief greetings with the Marquis of Lancel as well, I finally started to notice the nobles around us.

They kept glancing in our direction, seemingly playing a game of who would speak first.

But more urgent than this game of social cues was the hunger in my stomach, so I asked Ilion somewhat aggressively.

“I’m going to get some food, do you want anything?”

Ilion shook his head, saying he was fine as he sat at a table, and called over a passing servant to bring him a cup of tea.

As soon as Ilion finished speaking, I headed straight for the dessert table without looking back.

The table laden with food was truly a dessert paradise.

Egg tarts, sliced cakes, macarons, cookies, and even brownies! To think there were so many desserts that I could barely eat even when I begged Lily!

While meals at the Duke’s mansion were good, the desserts always felt somewhat lacking. It was probably tailored to Ilion’s taste, but for me who was crazy about desserts, it was far from enough. But here, I could finally satisfy my craving.

Educated people are truly different in every way. I knew it from the moment I first saw them.

Overwhelmed by desserts after so long, I picked up one of each type and headed to the table where Ilion was sitting.

The game of social cues seemed to have ended, as a young man I hadn’t seen before was sitting across from Ilion at the table. He stood up and greeted me when he saw me.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Bishop Giblin, a Baron.”

After exchanging brief greetings and sitting down, Bishop began to shower us with flattery.

Ilion, already seeming bored with the conversation, only occasionally answered when asked a question. Perhaps because of this, Bishop stopped trying to appeal to Ilion and continued the conversation with me.

“I’ve heard rumors that the Duke is very affectionate.”

Affectionate? How much did they pay the reporters for people to believe such false rumors as truth?

I swallowed a bitter laugh and rolled my eyes before nodding. Somehow, I felt it would be a waste not to use this opportunity.

And if I thought of it, I should act on it immediately.

“Oh my, has the rumor already spread like that? Well, the Duke is affectionate indeed. Oh, I brought some desserts, would you like a bite, Duke?”

“It’s fine. I don’t like sweet things…”

“Don’t say that, say ‘ah’.”

At my request, Ilion looked at me as if he had seen something he shouldn’t have. But I pretended not to notice and kept smiling as I brought a macaron to Ilion’s mouth.

“Wow, you two really get along well.”

With Baron Giblin’s added encouragement, it would be even harder for him to refuse outright.

Not just him, but there were many eyes watching around us. Everyone was glancing at our table. How would rumors spread if he refused now? The affectionate Duke?

“Come on, say ‘ah’.”

When I urged him once more, Ilion reluctantly ate the macaron I offered. Ilion’s expression wasn’t particularly pleased after putting the sweet macaron in his mouth.

“Isn’t it delicious?”

“…Yes.”

The brief pause between the question and answer seemed to represent his dislike for overly sweet things. How much irritation must he have suppressed to force himself to say it was delicious?

I didn’t know watching Ilion try to compose himself could be this enjoyable. Of course, it was a scene that could never happen or be seen at the Duke’s mansion.

Anyway, having succeeded in irritating Ilion, shall I try some too?

Just as I was about to pierce my fork into my first meal of the day, holding back my stomach that was crying out for anything to eat, cold and sour water poured over my face.

Champagne? I licked my lips and it seemed to be champagne indeed.

“Oh no, are you alright?”

The young lady who accidentally spilled champagne on me turned pale. She kept apologizing and took out a handkerchief to wipe me.

Unfortunately, her small handkerchief seemed far from enough. Water was still dripping, and my clothes were damp.

Why did this have to happen just as I was about to eat? I wiped the flowing water with my hand, looking dejected.

“Ravenne.”

As I was considering whether to go to the bathroom to wipe myself, Ilion reached out his hand to me.

“Rather than doing this here, it might be better to go to the powder room and wipe properly.”

I stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it in a daze.

To be honest, I was a bit surprised.

I never thought he would reach out his hand first, given how much he hated others touching his body. It seemed Ilion was more conscious of others’ gazes than I had expected.

***

“It’s fortunate that the champagne wasn’t too strong, but I wonder if it’ll be okay… It was expensive…”

Although I grumbled that it was plain, it was a dress made of high-quality fabric by a famous tailor.

No matter how plain the dress might be, it wouldn’t be cheap, so I, being closer to a commoner, was only worried about whether stains would remain on the dress immediately.

If worst comes to worst, I could sell it and use it as funds to run away… From losing the ring in the morning to ruining the dress, nothing was going right today.

After wiping off the moisture and fixing my makeup in the powder room, I came out to find Ilion looking out the window.

Cigarette smoke was rising from beyond the window, and occasionally a man’s voice could be heard.

“Duke?”

“Ah, you’re done?”

He seemed to have been so focused on the conversation outside the window that he noticed late that I had come out.

“What’s out there?”

“Nothing. Let’s go back to the banquet hall.”

Instead of answering my question, Ilion hurried his steps. I followed behind him, glancing at the window he had been looking at.

“Did you see how he didn’t even acknowledge us, even though he’s a Duke?”

“He’s famous, isn’t he? If you look closely, he seems to think he’s higher than the heavens.”

It was a conversation about Ilion.

Somehow feeling I couldn’t just pass by, I peeked down below the window. Baron Giblin, whom I had seen earlier, was smoking cigarettes with a friend in a corner.

“Anyway, no matter how much they brag about legitimate lineage or whatever, look at his appearance. Does that look like a person of Celestine?”

“That’s why I told you earlier. That Ilion, he’s not Elaine’s son. It’s true that he took in a child of unknown parentage after falling for some bar woman.”

The two kept giggling as if something was so funny, exchanging crude remarks about how they should investigate Ilion’s background. This is a bit too harsh, even for gossip…

“Looking at how they brought in such a rootless guy as the legitimate heir, maybe the rumors about the previous Duke being crazy are true.”

“That old man, wasn’t he sane until he died?”

“Didn’t you know? There was a rumor once that he went crazy after Elaine died. Don’t you know how priests were in and out of that house all the time? That was all because of that old man…”

Was he listening to this kind of talk with that indifferent expression from earlier?

How can he be so calm when people who were praising him with smiling faces just minutes ago are now insulting him and his parents?

Is it because he’s someone who wouldn’t bleed even if pricked? Because his emotions have dried up? Because Giblin is a person not worth dealing with?

Or is it because he’s already used to this kind of thing?

I looked at Ilion’s back as he walked ahead of me.