Chapter 4 – His and Her Affection (Which Was) (2)

“You seem to know a lot even though you don’t show your face in social circles.”

Chloe’s voice still carried the sharpness from earlier. Whether it was goodwill or hostility, Lucien’s lips curled into a peculiar smile.

“He talks so much about you. I’ve been quite curious about what kind of person you are. It’s been at least eight or nine years, though.”

Lucien’s lips, which had been forming a straight line, crooked slightly.

What could this mean? Chloe could only hope she was maintaining a convincing expression.

* * *

What greeted Chloe, who returned home utterly exhausted, was an invitation from the Duchess of Crevelle.

‘To the ladies of Lacroix.’

The Duchess had mentioned at the last grand festival ceremony that she would invite them soon, but Chloe hadn’t expected it to be this immediate.

Even back then, when only Chloe remembered, the Duchess had said the same thing and did indeed send an invitation, but it was just one of the many tea parties held at the Crevelle mansion, not something specifically for Chloe or Lacroix.

However, this invitation mentioned spending a cozy time just between the ladies of Lacroix and Crevelle after a long time.

‘Suddenly?’

It was true that Lacroix and Crevelle were close as prestigious families centered around the capital, and the bond had been maintained due to the amicable relationships between their children. But it had been a long time since just the two families met like this.

As the children grew older and started meeting outside on their own, the parents, too, aged and often built social connections unrelated to their children.

Chloe was convinced that the invitation from the Duchess of Crevelle was related to Demetrian’s eccentric behavior.

‘You keep approaching me in public, making me think I’m someone special… You’ve been acting quite strange lately, you know?’

On the day she went out with Demetrian, Chloe, after holding his hand and getting off the carriage, poured out the words she had prepared and immediately ran back home. She couldn’t even look him in the eye.

As for the expression on his face as he watched her back, well… she couldn’t even guess.

She had never left so rudely before, and he wasn’t one to sit quietly and listen to her speak.

As emotional waves that hadn’t existed in their straightforward friendship intertwined, unpredictable events kept occurring.

‘What am I supposed to do…’

In two years, I’ll be going to Scandar. When it’s time to leave, I need to leave without any lingering feelings or regrets.

* * *

The Duchess of Crevelle couldn’t erase her mixed feelings of delight and bewilderment about the seemingly changed demeanor of her eldest son.

Her eldest son, Demetrian, had always been mature, tried to think rationally, and was very responsible from a young age, even though they hadn’t raised him strictly. Of course, this was within the bounds of what a child could embody.

While the compliments adults gave to a child born as the heir of a ducal family might have influenced him like a kind of spell, the Duke and Duchess of Crevelle had never pressured him.

When he was little, his mature demeanor was simply adorable, but in the blink of an eye, it felt like they had unknowingly let him go. The child, who no longer spoke with a lisp, started saying ‘mother’ instead of ‘mom,’ ‘father’ instead of ‘dad,’ and ‘brother’ instead of ‘Luipold.’

She even wondered at times where things went wrong.

However, having grown up as a princess of the principality of Scander, alongside the heir of a nation, and now married to the head of the most prestigious family in the empire, she realized before long.

‘This is just how this child is.’

It took a while to accept, but once she did, it was easy to understand.

It was the nature of that rigid child, something neither she nor her husband, nor her brother or sister-in-law, possessed.

Naturally, as a mother, she felt disappointed. Especially since her other son was the kind of child who found all the answers himself, even at an age when he should be asking ‘why?’ dozens of times a day. While other children were scared of their etiquette teachers and wanted to play in the dirt, the eldest became the muse of the etiquette teacher, and the youngest seemed poised to devour the ancient books in the Crevelle library instead of dirt.

To gloss over all that disappointment, the Duchess of Crevelle would say,

‘There’s no fun in raising sons.’

Though, of course, every son is different.

What replaced that fun was a girl from another family whom her eldest particularly liked. Whenever that girl, with her fluttering light kumquat-colored hair, peeked into the study with her rolling green eyes, her responsible eldest would delay his homework and hold her hands tightly to play in the garden.

She could side with them, saying she knew nothing of the fathers’ promises, and watch them grow with joy, but her rigid son accepted the prenatal contract between the fathers as his destiny. Boys who are rigid even about romantic feelings aren’t popular.

‘That boy must think affection is pointless.’

The Duchess had loved hearing about others’ romances since she was young.

In the court of Scander, where winter was longer than any other season, the most popular gossip was about who liked whom and what events unfolded because of it. Sometimes the content was suitable for all ages, and sometimes it was restricted for minors, but for a princess who would eventually have to marry a man from another country, whom she didn’t even know, there was no greater vicarious satisfaction.

So she hoped her uninteresting son would at least let her experience the fun of raising him through romance.

Without anyone to blame, having lost yet another joy of raising her son, the Duchess of Crevelle began to interact only with ladies who shared her interests and stopped attending social gatherings.

‘If only the kids had been a bit more flexible, there would have been the fun of attending social gatherings. Pretending not to notice when the kids formed connections, evaluating the young ladies…’

That was the case until recently, but suddenly, warm breezes started to blow from her cold-hearted eldest son.

It started with this.

‘You must be pleased that the freesia is blooming in the greenhouse.’

How delighted she was when her eldest son casually said that during a weekend lunch.

The Duchess of Crevelle, who came from the far northern Scander and married into Gotiue, loved the mild climate where she could see flowers year-round. However, since the garden and greenhouse she tended had nothing to do with the prestige or power of the ducal family, they had always been outside her eldest son’s interest.

‘Unless he has business with me or Chloe visits, that indifferent child probably doesn’t even know I’ve set foot in the greenhouse.’

The youngest, on the other hand, often stayed there, claiming to find peace in the orderly sequences of petal numbers.

But for that eldest son to pretend to be interested in her greenhouse. When she realized the reason after he asked if he could take some flowers as a gift for Lacroix a few days later, the Duchess felt she had discovered a new joy in raising her son that she had never felt before.

It would be a lie to say she didn’t regret the freesia and anemones she had painstakingly raised all winter, but compared to seeing her son’s shy demeanor for the first time, it was nothing.

Perhaps that’s why she quickly arranged this gathering.

‘The Countess of Lacroix said she was very grateful and wanted to repay the favor next time. Chloe too.’

What use was it for the Duchess to know that the Lacroix ladies had never said such a thing? She merely guessed what her son desired by conveying such words.

‘Oh my, then we must invite them to the mansion sometime. How about this weekend?’

‘That sounds good.’

Oh ho, this boy. 

The Duchess discovered a new side to her son after twenty-three years of raising him.

On a pleasant weekend afternoon, when the cold air had left the spring breeze, the Lacroix carriage arrived at the Crevelle mansion on the outskirts of Gotiue.

“It’s been a while since we’ve met at the mansion. Thank you for inviting us, Madam.”

“The kids are close, so such things happen. Please come visit often. Chloe, your dress is very vibrant today.”

“I heard you’ve redecorated the greenhouse, so I thought I’d bring a bit of spring feel. Does it match the greenhouse?”

Redecorated the greenhouse, huh? 

That unromantic eldest son of hers must have uttered some nonsense again. The Duchess, knowing well how her son’s mind worked, laughed inwardly.

“Here, a small token of thanks for the flowers you sent.”

Di, who accompanied them as a guard instead of Mirabelle, handed over a package.

“We recently got someone in the kitchen who’s good at making macarons, so I brought some. And this is…”

A medium-sized frame wrapped in plain cloth was passed from Di to the servant of the Ducal household. The servant partially unveiled the cloth so the Duchess could see the contents.

“He’s a newcomer named Jake Collins, and they say he’s promising at the salon. I thought you might enjoy watching his progress.”

The symbolic oil painting was something Chloe had found while busily frequenting the Artisan district over the past few days.

‘It’ll be a while before his name circulates in the salon.’

Jake Collins was a painter who would start gaining word-of-mouth recognition around the time Chloe left Arthuzen. Chloe wasn’t particularly interested in paintings, but she remembered what gained word-of-mouth in the ladies’ salons. She had gone to great lengths to find works by painters who would soon become known, all while she was still the only one who knew.

‘Arthuzen women do invest, after all.’

Contrary to Lucien’s prejudice, there was some limited investment among the noblewomen of Arthuzen. It was just limited to things like art, jewelry, or rare stones. Lucien didn’t consider such ‘collecting’ as investing, but Chloe, driven by a pointless sense of competitiveness, didn’t care.

‘But by the time this becomes worth selling, I won’t be here…’