Chapter 12

Rowena glanced at Gerard.

Seated before a lavish meal, he was lost in thought. Every now and then, a smile appeared on his well-shaped lips.

He must have been indulging in some wildly unrealistic dream.

After taking a sip of cool water, Rowena asked with an innocent expression, “About Mr. George Miller. I heard he’s a legendary businessman from the east. Is he someone important to you as well?”

Gerard gave a small laugh.

“Rowena, this banquet will be an invaluable opportunity for our family.”

“How so?”

“It will give us a chance to establish a connection with Mr. George Miller.”

He wiped the faint smile from his lips with a napkin, then rose.

“I’m sorry, but I must excuse myself. There’s a great deal to prepare for the banquet.”

“All right.”

Gerard walked around the table and looked down at her plate, which was not even half empty. His eyes narrowed in a frown.

“I hear you’ve been eating much less lately. Make sure you finish everything today.”

“I will.”

Rowena did not offer the customary pleasantries about how grateful she was for his concern or how he ought to take better care of himself, too.

Gerard, however, seemed to have been waiting for her to say something of the sort.

He gazed at her for a while, then tilted his head in puzzlement.

When Rowena still said nothing, he quietly turned away.

Once his retreating figure was out of sight, Rowena set down her fork.

His instruction to finish her meal had made her feel contrary.

Besides, she genuinely had no appetite.

“Oh, and Rowena.”

Gerard stopped just as he was about to leave the dining room.

“…I think it would be best if you didn’t wear your pink dress to the banquet.”

“…”

“It’s an important occasion.”

A small sigh escaped Rowena’s lips.

He was undoubtedly thinking of Evelyn’s thoughtless remark.

“People as fat as us would look even bigger in a dress like that.”

Remembering Evelyn’s voice as she had subtly mocked her put Rowena in a foul mood.

The thought that Gerard privately agreed with her made Rowena want to confront him on the spot.

Why? Because you’re afraid I’ll look fat?

But instead of speaking sharply, Rowena offered him a gentle smile.

“All right.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course. But Gerard, I don’t think you should wear your gray jacket either. It doesn’t suit you very well. When you wear that color, your complexion looks a little…”

At the unexpected criticism, Gerard’s face tightened as though he had been slapped.

A moment later, he managed to smooth his expression.

Rowena immediately delivered another blow to the opposite cheek, this time with words as sweet as ever.

“It makes you look cold and indifferent. Since this is an important business occasion, you ought to give people a brighter impression.”

Gerard decided to follow his wife’s advice without complaint.

Instead of the gray jacket he had intended to wear, he selected a new, dark-blue coat.

Rowena, however, immediately wrote to the family’s dressmaker.

Please make me a pale-pink dress in one of this spring’s fashionable designs.

Several days later, she entered the banquet hall wearing the completed dress…

And her earlobes gradually began to burn.

Every dress sweeping across the polished floor seemed to be some shade of pink.

Rowena lowered her gaze to examine her own attire.

Suddenly, the neckline, cut low enough to reveal her cleavage, seemed rather excessive.

Even the cool air against her bare shoulders felt strangely unfamiliar.

It was her first time wearing a dress with such a daring design, and she found herself worrying about the attention she might attract.

But unlike Rowena, who was feeling self-conscious, the atmosphere around her was bright and lively.

No one paid any particular attention to her clothes.

They were all too busy admiring the banquet hall.

Only then did Rowena look around.

The sweet melody of string instruments seemed to swim gently between the hems of the ladies’ dresses. Beneath chandeliers illuminated by hundreds of flickering candles, thousands of crystal pieces scattered dazzling light.

Before she knew it, Rowena had relaxed.

Resting her hand on Gerard’s arm, she crossed the banquet hall with him.

Several nobles who knew them approached.

“It’s a pleasure to see you, Countess Livros.”

The gentlemen touched their hats in greeting to Rowena before acknowledging Gerard with a nod.

The ladies, too, greeted her first.

“It seems every noble in Erisvale has gathered here.”

“Not just Erisvale. I hear invitations were sent to the neighboring cities as well.”

“I’ve even heard that distinguished guests were invited from Edessa.”

Rowena, who had been listening to their conversation, widened her eyes.

“Even from the imperial capital?”

“His Lordship certainly has remarkable connections, doesn’t he?”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

More ladies joined the group and asked after Rowena’s well-being.

Throughout the conversation, Gerard kept looking around with a distracted expression.

He was probably searching for George Miller.

George Miller—the fake investor among fake investors, planted by the Marquis of Windervane to uproot Gerard, that counterfeit gentleman.

Rowena gently removed her hand from Gerard’s arm.

Only then did he turn his attention toward her.

“Gerard, do you think Mr. George Miller has arrived?”

“I expect he has.”

“Then you should go and meet him.”

“But…”

Gerard furrowed his well-shaped brows as though he were struggling with a difficult decision.

He wanted to rush off immediately, but was deliberately drawing things out while pretending otherwise.

Rowena waited a little longer for him to finish his insufferable performance, then gave him a gentle push on the back.

“I’ll be fine. Go on.”

Gerard thanked her and turned away.

Rowena watched him leave, then offered the nobles a gentle smile before withdrawing to one side of the banquet hall.

A passing servant happened to offer her a tray.

She took a glass of white wine and leaned against the wall.

When she casually turned her head, a new group of guests entered her field of vision.

There were ladies in pale-pink and red dresses, and gentlemen wearing gray brocade jackets and carrying ebony canes.

The fabrics and finer details of their clothing varied.

But the overall shapes and colors were so similar that, to Rowena’s eye, unaccustomed as she was to fashion, they all looked more or less alike.

She murmured under her breath.

“…They all look the same. I can’t tell them apart.”

Edric Bernhardt, however, had no difficulty picking Rowena out from the crowd.

The moment the Marquis of Windervane entered the banquet hall, his blue eyes went straight to her.

He looked her up and down with a slightly startled expression.

He even ran his large palm across his mouth, looking inexplicably restless.

Then he touched the brim of his black velvet tricorne, dipped his chin slightly, and greeted her.

Rowena suddenly felt her tongue go stiff.

What should I do?

Should she approach him and strike up a conversation?

Or would he come to her if she waited here?

While she hesitated, a flock of guests descended upon the Marquis of Windervane and surrounded him several layers deep.

Edric Bernhardt stood a full head taller than the others, so Rowena could still see his relaxed, smiling face from afar.

Only after a considerable time, when he had finally greeted everyone, did the marquis look toward Rowena again.

Then he raised one handsome eyebrow.

He seemed to be waiting for something.

It was only then that Rowena suddenly realized she had not returned his greeting.

She bent her knees slightly in a curtsy.

The marquis answered with a brilliant smile.

Astonishingly, at that very moment, dazzling, multicolored light seemed to come sparkling down from the ceiling.

It truly did.

Suddenly feeling terribly thirsty, Rowena took a large gulp of wine.

The alcohol could not possibly have taken effect so quickly, yet her ears grew hot and her heart began pounding.

She pressed a palm to her chest and struggled to catch her breath.

What’s wrong with me…?

Fortunately, the marquis did not come straight over to her.

Instead, he invited an elderly lady standing alone in a corner of the banquet hall to dance.

Startled by her unexpected good fortune, the elderly lady nevertheless took his hand gladly.

Her green dress, far removed from the latest fashions, rippled and swayed as they danced.

It reminded Rowena of the lush greenery of midsummer.

What a lovely sight.

Just as the thought occurred to her, a familiar voice sounded beside her ear.

“Good evening, Countess Livros. Why aren’t you dancing? Why have you become a wallflower?”

It was Baptiste Morin, a journalist for the Erisvale Tribune.

Rowena gave him a small shrug.

“My partner has stepped away.”

“Ah… Well, I see quite a few ladies in the same situation. Women who have been set free because their husbands have gone off in search of Mr. George Miller.”

“Aren’t you going to see him?”

“Wouldn’t I find a more interesting story here than in the second-floor gallery, which must be swarming with men? After all, the Marquis of Windervane is here.”

“But if the Guardians of the Seal Club accepts a new member, you’ll have to report on it.”

“Will they really accept a new member? There doesn’t seem to be a suitable candidate.”

“…”

“Ah, of course, I wasn’t referring to Count Livros. Please don’t misunderstand.”

Baptiste Morin hurriedly added the clarification.

The Guardians of the Seal Club was an exclusive investment association of nobles whose connections stretched across the empire like links in a chain.

It was famous for accepting new members only when a vacancy arose.

Its admission requirements were unknown, but one thing was certain: a prestigious family name alone was not enough to secure a place.

There were exceptions to every rule, however.

The immense prestige of being a member of the imperial family and a victorious war hero had created a vacancy where none had existed before.

In other words, it was the position the Marquis of Windervane had prepared for Gerard.

Gerard was now dutifully walking, step by step, toward what the marquis had called “a pit of hell filled with thorns and snakes.”