When Cameron sat back down at the bar, he explained the situation. Indeed, it was a common occurrence. He said someone who had recklessly bet a large sum on poker had lost everything and was causing a disturbance out of frustration.

However, there was a special circumstance to this.

“Apparently, a young gentleman who had been frequenting Whitepole was murdered.”

Whitepole was the district in Whittingham where entertainment establishments were concentrated. Men who frequented such places didn’t stick to just one activity, making it a place where prostitution, illegal gambling, and even slave trading took place in secret.

“They had saddled that unfortunate fellow with a lot of gambling debt, but now that he’s dead, there’s no way to get it back.”

Warshaw asked, “Who died?”

“Bingham……? Bingley……? Something like that.”

Unless they go to war, young men generally don’t die. There were occasionally those who became disabled after dueling in anger or who caused a fuss about committing double suicide with a woman, only to kill the innocent woman and survive alone.

So Cameron’s story caught Warshaw’s interest.

“What, did he make enemies because of gambling debts?”

“I don’t know about that. But there have been so many problems in that area that they might start cleaning it up soon.”

“A gambling den of that scale wouldn’t easily close down.”

“Cleaning up crime in that neighborhood is His Highness the Crown Prince’s cherished project.”

Cameron replied.

Half-listening to his friends’ conversation, Jeremy looked at the glass in his hand. The deep honey color of the whiskey sparkled golden in the light, and that color in turn reminded him of Prince Reginald’s eyes.

More than a few people had been troubled by the noble character of that crown prince, who had yet to take even one fiancée to bed.

* * *

“Why don’t you reconsider once more? Miss Pemberton.”

Maude pleaded earnestly. Bronwynner still couldn’t get used to that surname. It was understandable, having acquired a new surname less than a week after using the fake surname ‘Howard.’

“Thank you for your concern, but I must make my debut in society this autumn, Lady Maude.”

Jeremy Lovedale—she had only learned the young duke’s name from the girl after being introduced to Maude—didn’t seem to be the type to explain things in detail to others. Bronwynner wondered if he even knew that dealing with Maude had been added to her duties.

In any case, Maude was very excited about the fact that her brother had a young lady under his sponsorship, and was frustrated to learn that the young lady was preparing to enter the former Marchioness Whitman’s Bride Training School to make her formal debut in Whittingham society this autumn.

Although she was anxious about possibly making a verbal slip, Bronwynner had liked Maude from the moment they were introduced.

For instance, Maude talked very, very much.

“Until five years ago, there were no bride training schools in Lennox. There were only boarding academies where young ladies received basic education. The former Marchioness Whitman had been donating funds to such academies when she suddenly became fixated on an idea. She wanted to create a respectable educational institution in her own name.”

Bronwynner just had to listen and throw in a comment now and then.

“Why did she create something like a bride training school?”

“Why else? She wanted to become a headmistress, but knew nothing about real education, so she created a school in the heart of Whittingham that only noble young ladies could attend. It’s not even a real school. They stay at the Whitman townhouse, receive about two hours of cultural lessons a day, and spend the rest of their time drinking tea, taking walks, and critiquing.”

“Critiquing what?”

“Everything! I don’t know why Jeremy wants to put his sponsored young lady in such a terrible place. At first, he was going to send me.”

Maude’s words were scathing, but they hit the essence. Thanks to this, Bronwynner could quickly grasp the objective and atmosphere of the bride training school. A social group of selected young ladies between eighteen and twenty, preparing for their social debut or having just debuted.

Though it hadn’t been open long, judging from Maude’s story, it seemed highly likely that within a few years, graduation from that school would become a new criterion for selecting brides among ladies looking for matches for their sons.

‘Did the Duke of Lovedale think I would fit in such a place?’

Of course, having accepted his proposal, whether she fit in or not was not an important issue. And he must have made such an offer believing that her admission would be possible regardless of whether she fit in or not.

⌜His Highness Crown Prince Reginald will be engaged this year. Miss Howard, your job is to investigate his partner, Lady Celestine Harrows.⌟

Naturally, this was a secret known only to her employer, Jeremy Lovedale, and Bronwynner. He had generously allowed her to ask questions.

⌜If it’s a job investigating such a high-ranking person, wouldn’t it be better to recruit a noble young lady rather than hiring someone like me to infiltrate a noble school?⌟

⌜You must not know much, Miss Howard. Noble young ladies of that age don’t make their own judgments. They don’t need to. Their fathers, mothers, or chaperones decide everything for them. I need someone with judgment.⌟

⌜…….⌟

⌜Besides, buying silence with money is the cheapest way.⌟

In other words, noble young ladies, while not lacking in money, were deficient in willpower and couldn’t be trusted.

On the surface, Bronwynner was the seventh daughter of the humble Viscount Pemberton family from Goldenborough, with so many as seven daughters, who had come to Whittingham with the sponsorship of the Duke of Lovedale, a friend of Count Derek Farraway, a distant relative, to find a better match than her sisters.

While she had no complaints about this setup, one major problem troubled Bronwynner’s mind.

⌜I lack the qualities that a noble young lady should possess…..⌟

⌜No one expects a seventh daughter from a family like Pemberton, from a place as far from Whittingham as Goldenborough, to have the same qualities as Lady Celestine. It’s fortunate if she can be distinguished from a field cow. You must have received basic education, Miss Howard?⌟

In the year Princess Berenice was born, Her Majesty the Queen had reorganized the education law, establishing a basic education curriculum and ensuring all schools taught the same course. Given the conditions to receive education, girls still received guidance from tutors at home rather than at school, but thanks to the popularization of the basic education curriculum, the level of learning had been standardized upward compared to before. The Perth Orphanage had adopted that very curriculum, and Bronwynner had completed it with top honors.

⌜You only need minimal knowledge and qualities. No, rather, just smile quietly as if it’s something to be proud of. Only women more foolish than a stupid, pretty woman are wary of her.⌟

His first impression had been courteous and gentlemanly, but this quality seemed to apply only to social relationships. As an employer, he was extremely direct.

⌜I’ll provide you with teachers, so try to fill in those lacking qualities in the meantime.⌟

Personally, it was an infinitely insulting remark, but if she thought of him as an employer or superior, it was tolerable. Compared to Baroness Bingham’s ambiguous instructions, it was clear and easy to understand.

The problem was that the qualities she needed to acquire were endless. Speech, dance, fashion, and all sorts of other artistic refinements and talents. The teacher he had provided was capable and suggested a strategy of ‘selection and focus’—choosing just one or two to learn intensively.

“Lady Maude.”

Bronwynner asked.

“Is there a way to be as inconspicuous as possible in that terrible place?”

“Ah.”

Maude giggled. The girl was innocent even for her age of sixteen, and as a child raised with love, she was unaffected. The scarlet dress she wore suited her bright blonde hair perfectly.

“Nod and smile at whatever anyone says. Just agree with ‘I see,’ ‘That’s amazing,’ ‘Would you tell me more?'”

Maude picked up a fan from the tea table and demonstrated herself. Bronwynner couldn’t help but laugh.

“And whatever you do, you should aim for the middle.”

“The middle……?”

That was too difficult a request for her.

“If you do well, you stand out and face jealousy; if you do poorly, you fall out of favor and face hatred.”

When she said ‘face hatred,’ Maude’s face darkened slightly. Could even a girl like this have experienced hatred somewhere? Fortunately, Maude’s gloom didn’t last long. The girl was somewhat scattered.

“If you’re not confident you can reach the middle, borrow the power of tools.”

“Tools……?”

Maude held Bronwynner’s hand tightly.

“That’s what our Lovedale is most confident about. Get ready to have your measurements taken all day tomorrow.”

* * *

Madame Floss descended upon Crimsworth Court with three assistants, like an unseasonable spring wind. This small woman, whose influence exceeded that of a decent viscount’s family and whose accumulated wealth surpassed that of most counts, had started as a dressmaker and now ran the finest boutique in the heart of Whittingham—the owner of a brilliant career.

Her presence was so imposing that butler Emil and footman Seth, who had gone out to greet the madame, were as dejected as rain-soaked dogs. The madame didn’t hesitate to express her dissatisfaction with the duke of Lovedale’s “unreasonable” behavior.

“Do you know how many customers have reserved spring dresses since last autumn? And then you suddenly barge in and demand seven morning dresses and ten evening dresses by the end of this month. I’m not a magician.”

Maude blinked. Countess Windell, who would be Bronwynner’s chaperone, did the same.

Bronwynner felt sorry for the customers whose orders had been delayed because of her.

“If it’s too difficult, half that number of dresses would be fine.”

In fact, two morning dresses and two evening dresses would have been enough.

The madame widened her eyes.

“How can you attach the word ‘difficult’ to my work? Lady—”

“Miss Pemberton.”

Countess Windell corrected her.

With her soft brown hair and brown eyes, the countess was as gentle and kind as her appearance suggested, and Bronwynner had developed considerable affection for her as well.

“Yes. Miss Pemberton. Your guardian has made an absurdly unreasonable request, but I accepted it. He also paid the full amount in one lump sum. So now, take off your clothes and stand here.”