Chapter 10: An Ordinary Young Lady

The heat of the banquet did not subside even late into the night.

Everyone was eating, drinking, and chatting, but the true protagonist of the banquet was not.

The Duchess had disappeared early on, and the Duke of Liston remained in his seat without any notable socializing.

“It seems the Duke of Liston is quite tired. Doesn’t he seem a bit different from usual?”

“Is it because his bride left her seat? If it were me, I wouldn’t have left him sitting alone like that.”

The young ladies who secretly coveted the Duchess’s position gazed at Carlisle endlessly.

While they exchanged empty words over the prey they had missed, one of the young ladies listening suddenly burst into laughter.

She then naturally covered her mouth with a fan and joined the conversation.

“You’re all so naïve. Obviously, there’s conflict between the old lover and the current wife, don’t you think?”

“Old lover and current wife? What do you mean…?”

“It seems there are still people in Feltro who haven’t heard the rumor? Well, since the Imperial Family has kept so quiet about it, the wind that once blew was bound to die down.”

“The Imperial Family? What exactly are you talking about, Lady Hailen? Explain it so we can understand.”

“What is there to explain? It’s common knowledge. Back when Empress Claudia lived as the princess of a fallen kingdom, the Duke of Liston was constantly by her side, wasn’t he?”

“That’s because the Duke of Liston is from the Marita Empire…”

“Does sharing the same origin warrant that much closeness? When you think about it, it’s truly something. Sending a gift to the bride of none other than your former lover.”

“My goodness, the two of them were really lovers?”

“If you give something, you naturally get something in return, don’t you? Who knows what a young man and woman got up to out on the frontier. For someone like that to so openly send a wedding gift—wouldn’t it be stranger if the new bride didn’t have a fire lit inside her?”

“Tsk, what a pity.”

Listening quietly, Ethan glanced at the group and then began walking.

Before long, he was heading toward where Carlisle stood.

“Duke.”

Despite Ethan calling to him, there was no reply.

Carlisle simply swirled the wine in his hand, tapping the table with a slow rhythm.

His brow, already severe, was drawn into deep furrows, as if something was gnawing at him.

‘Just one question—was it an act of defiance?’

Earlier, the only reason he had gone to find Leilia had been to deliver a warning—nothing more, nothing less.

He’d simply wanted to show the wild little wife who held the upper hand.

He had never imagined she would actually smash the statue Claudia had sent.

‘I’m just trying to focus. Like someone once told me.’

But for some reason, it wasn’t the broken statue, nor the ruined rapport, that lingered in his mind.

It was that remark, spoken like a confession.

More precisely, his thoughts were fixated on the “someone” from her past who had told her to focus.

It had been quite an intense kiss.

He had expected her to flinch in fear, yet the young woman had seemed almost disturbingly familiar with it.

Whatever her past, it had nothing to do with him—yet knowing it in this way left an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Even that moment, heated for just an instant.

“Speak.”

Carlisle took a sip of wine, his voice low.

“You seem tired, my lord. Perhaps it’s best to end the night here and retire to your chambers. Rumors are spreading.”

“Ethan.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t believe Her Majesty Claudia necessarily sent it for that reason—”

“She’s barely twenty, yet she shows no sign of yielding. She doesn’t even seem particularly shocked. She’s clearly not like the usual ones.”

At the unexpected comment, a faint “Ah…” slipped from Ethan’s lips.

“It’s likely because the lady hasn’t known a normal home. Naturally, she would be different from other young ladies.”

“A wildflower that can’t be crushed, no matter how you tread on it…”

Carlisle muttered under his breath, crossing his legs.

He tapped the table again, a habitual motion.

“Rumors about Her Majesty Claudia are circulating among the guests. I suggest you take your leave for tonight.”

“What do you think would happen under normal circumstances?”

“Pardon? What exactly do you mean?”

“If someone happened to break a gift… and by pure coincidence, something like that was inside.”

“Well… most would either break into tears or be terrified. I doubt anyone would stay this calm.”

At that, one corner of Carlisle’s mouth curved sharply.

His pale eyes narrowed, glinting with a mischief almost childlike.

“Looks like I may have chosen the wrong opponent. I’ll have to dig deeper—learn every detail, from her childhood onward.”

He murmured this and rose from his seat.

A towering shadow spilled across the ballroom as he moved.

His long strides echoed dully against the marble, drawing every eye toward him.

Thud… thud…

He stopped before the gathered group, lowering himself so his gaze met theirs.

“What could be so amusing in conversation?”

At his appearance, Hailen’s mouth snapped shut like a clam.

The fear on her face pulled a satisfied curve to the Duke of Liston’s lips.

Leaning in, he whispered softly.

“Keep running that mouth, and you may lose those pretty lips for good… young lady I’ve never heard of.”

“……”

“If you give, you can expect to receive—just like the queen in those rumors, and me.”

***

“My lady, you don’t mean that seriously, do you?”

“I do.”

“I understand your situation, but no matter how I look at it, this isn’t right. Do you know how terrifying gossip can be?”

“If I cared about things like that, I wouldn’t even be thinking this way in the first place.”

“My lady…”

Ever since the mention of taking a lover, Timo had been reacting the same way—first denying it, muttering that it couldn’t be true, then insisting it was madness, that she must have lost her mind.

By now, he had repeated himself for several minutes straight, and the endless back-and-forth only wearied Leilia.

“Even if it’s a loveless marriage, with time, things might get better. But a lover…? Of all things, a lover?”

Timo deliberately lowered his voice, pausing before he spoke.

Though no one else was around, he whispered as if afraid the walls themselves might listen.

Leilia shook her head and retorted.

“And why not?”

“It’s not like you already have someone in mind. And even if you did, couldn’t it wait until later? Don’t ruin yourself out of spite.”

“It’s just a stimulant, something to liven up a dull life.”

“The lady I know would never say something like that. You’re… you’re different now.”

“Duke Liston agreed to it. He’s the one who suggested it first—why should I refuse?”

Timo’s eyes widened in shock, his jaw falling open with an audible gasp.

Leilia ignored him, her gaze sweeping the room with practiced ease.

In her mind, her first conversation with the Duke replayed like a lantern slide.

“If you want, you can take a lover.”

“Marriage will go forward either way, so it’s only sensible for each of us to have our own plaything.”

“Of course, we’ll need to be careful about birth control. The last thing I want is to get caught up in a paternity lawsuit with someone of dubious lineage.”

At the time, she’d thought it nothing but drunken nonsense.

Yet now, with things as they were, she found herself oddly grateful for his words.

She had never intended to bring in a lover, but at this point, it was her only option.

By then, Timo had snapped out of his daze and was trailing at her heels again.

The thought of his nagging starting all over made her ears ring already.

“Fine, say Lord Liston can get away with it. He has nothing to lose. But you? What if word spreads? What happens to your reputation? Just imagining strangers whispering about you makes my chest hurt already.”

“Do I have a reputation left to lose? Or would you rather I waste away in loneliness instead?”

“Don’t say things like that. Of course I want you to be happy more than anyone. I’m just saying—maybe wait, maybe try another way—”

“What exactly is the problem? We’ve both agreed to it. And do you really think those nobles over there are paragons of virtue? Eight out of ten of them have lovers—and mistresses besides.”

“That’s just speculation.”

“Then all I have to do is not get caught.”

“Lady…”

Timo’s voice faltered into a whimper, but she remained unshaken.

“Help me. That’s how you’ll be useful to me.”

Her tone was curt, final.

She reached into a drawer, slender fingers drawing out pen and paper.

By now, she knew every corner of this mansion as if it were her own hand.

Still, I’ll need to be cautious for a while.

Her thoughts briefly paused, then she leaned over the table and began scribbling names, one after another, with the casual air of someone making a shopping list.

Timo, peering over her shoulder, spoke without thinking.

“Kian Gray… you mean the youngest son of the Gray Count’s family?”

“Yes. At the very least, the standards should match.”

“No. Absolutely not. Kian Gray is nothing compared to you, my lady. A scoundrel and a fool! You’re far too precious.”

“And what exactly has he done that’s so terrible?”

“Just days ago, he lost a fortune in gambling. There was a knife fight over it. If he weren’t a count’s son, he’d already be rotting in the dungeons.”

“Then how about this one?”

“Young Master Leicester may have a pretty face, but he’s completely hollow inside. The more you talk to him, the more you realize just how ignorant he is. He’s really not a good match for a refined young lady like you.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard a rumor like that.

Leilia tilted her head, moving her fingers.

After that, her back-and-forth with Timo continued.

They discussed every eligible young man in Feltro, but Timo desperately found fault with each one.

Just when it seemed they wouldn’t be able to find anyone suitable, Leilia’s golden eyes, which had been dull and downcast, suddenly sparkled brightly.

***

A week passed.

Life at Liston was as peaceful as ever.

The servants provided quality food at every meal, and always made sure she had a warm place to sleep.

By day, they dressed her in splendid gowns; at night, they prepared hot water so she could relax her tired body.

Yes, up until this very morning, it had been a picture-perfect routine—at least until she came face-to-face with what awaited her now.

“You’ll have the results soon, Madam. Since it’s a sacred relic imported from the Holy State, you can trust its accuracy.”

Doctor Willard pushed up his glasses and rubbed the mineral.

“Do you like children, Madam?”

He added, with a pointless question, but Leilia simply pressed her fingertip to stop the bleeding instead of answering.

“In two days, your fertile period will begin. Of course, I can’t guarantee you’ll conceive right away, but this will at least increase your chances. As I mentioned, you’ll need to do your best for about a week.”

Strangely, no matter how many times she did this, she never seemed to get used to it.

Like a fish before spawning season, she poured blood on the relic to calculate her fertile days, and then followed the schedule, repeating the act—although it had now been a week since she’d seen even a hair of that man.

“I’ll send over some herbs to help with your headaches and dizziness.”

With that, the elderly doctor finished, and Leilia nodded a couple of times, ending the conversation.

As Willard left, her golden eyes slowly scanned the parlor.

Of course, nothing had changed.

The crafts lined up above the cold fireplace and the bust of the Duke of Liston were just as splendid as ever.

As Leilia was about to turn away, her expression bored, something familiar caught her eye.