Count Peregrine had silver hair and silver eyes, while Wilfred had pale wheat-colored hair and gray eyes—at first glance, the Count made the more dazzling impression. 

However, Wilfred’s delicate, aristocratic features were a crystallization of the very best aspects of House Hartwell’s looks. Though both were handsome men, one was all smiles while the other radiated his usual icy chill, which made Bernard reluctant to enter.

Naturally, Count Peregrine was the first to acknowledge him.

“Oh, Bernard. Come in. I was just about to get the juicy details of the groom’s first night—”

“Shut up, Rodney.”

“—but our Crown Prince is in a foul mood today too, isn’t he?”

The Count stubbornly finished his sentence.

Wilfred didn’t even pretend to hear him and asked Bernard directly.

“Why was the morning meeting canceled?”

“Well… I didn’t think Your Highness would come in this early on a day like today…”

Bernard stammered. Count Peregrine took the poor secretary’s side.

“Don’t be too hard on him, Your Highness. The Privy Council members are probably nursing hangovers from the reception right now.”

“Those useless things.”

Wilfred held out a paper from his desk. It was a list of tasks Bernard needed to handle today.

“The Crown Princess needs a Fenwick tutor. …Someone who can teach proper etiquette too. Starting tomorrow.”

Like the diligent secretary he was, Bernard looked up from scanning the list line by line as soon as he received the memo. They hadn’t expected him to transform into a happy man overnight, but His Highness the Crown Prince looked particularly displeased today.

Bernard asked cautiously, reading the room.

“Did… something happen with Her Highness the Crown Princess?”

“Being spoken to informally puts me in a bad mood.”

Bernard and Count Peregrine looked at each other.

‘She spoke informally… to His Highness? Her Highness did?’

‘She did it at the wedding too, but I didn’t think she’d keep doing it.’

True to being a guardian of Fenwick chivalry, Wilfred had never used violence against women, but verbal *buse was another story. 

How many noblewomen had entered as maids hoping to receive the Crown Prince’s favor, only to leave in tears?

Vulgarity wasn’t the only form of insult. 

No one in Fenwick could casually endure His Highness the Crown Prince’s cynicism, sarcasm, and contempt, and if you inevitably continued receiving it, you’d either develop self-esteem issues like Bernard or become insensitive like Count Peregrine.

To speak informally to His Highness the Crown Prince and fall from his favor. Bernard was deeply concerned about the beautiful Crown Princess’s future.

“I’ll… look into it right away.”

Then Wilfred moved on to the next agenda item. Coincidentally, the second item also concerned the Crown Princess.

“Did you send maids to that room this morning?”

Glancing at Count Peregrine muttering “There are maids tripping over each other in the East Wing…,” Bernard answered.

“Normally the Queen would handle assigning the Crown Princess’s maids, but since there’s no Queen at present, that task was delegated to the head maid.”

The words of the youngest chief court secretary in history didn’t deviate one bit from principles. 

It was only because the wedding preparations were so rushed that Bernard had inadvertently taken charge; according to custom, the Queen, or failing that, the head maid, should have arranged everything from the Crown Princess’s quarters to her grooming before the ceremony. 

However, there was one slightly awkward aspect to this due to royal circumstances.

Wilfred paused briefly.

“…To the Dowager Duchess of Bodley?”

“Yes. To the Dowager Duchess of Bodley.”

Dowager Duchess Roxanne Bodley. She was the mother of the Duke of Bodley, one of the central pillars of the Privy Council, and childhood friend of Queen Annabel.

Ten years ago, the then-Duchess—she was still Duchess then—had been appointed head maid by Queen Annabel. 

After that Queen died, after the Crown Prince changed once, until the second Crown Prince grew up and took a consort, that woman had been Osborne Palace’s head maid the entire time.

“Well… it should be fine.”

Bernard felt relieved that they could move past this topic all three were trying to avoid mentioning—but only for a moment.

“…Your Highness! What brings you all the way here?”

A small commotion arose outside the door.

It was a ‘commotion’ entirely because Knight Waverley’s voice guarding the door was particularly loud, so Bernard quickly opened the door before the Crown Prince could get annoyed and tell that noisy fool to shut up.

Standing alone outside was Edith.

“Your Highness the Crown Princess…?”

Though it was still early morning, Edith had her long hair meticulously braided up and wore a deep blue dress that made her black hair and white skin stand out even more. 

She looked tired, possibly from not sleeping well the night before. Yet her flushed cheeks weren’t from girlish vitality or shyness.

Wilfred stood up from his seat.

Edith entered, passing right by Bernard as he stepped back, and said.

“Guarantee right to appoint maids.”

* * *

‘Is this woman staging a protest against me…?’

That was the Crown Prince’s impression of his consort who’d barged into his office first thing in the morning. Even her slogan was plausible. 

‘Guarantee the right to appoint maids.’ 

Last night she’d looked so miserable she ruined the whole wedding night, and now what was the problem today?

At this unexpected situation, Bernard, Rodney, and even Sir Jude blinked from beyond the door.

“Close it.”

“Yes sir.”

Sir Jude closed the door and disappeared. Wilfred crossed his arms and looked at Edith.

“The Crown Princess alone—what brings you here?”

It was quite far from the room where she’d stayed yesterday to this office. Yet no one had thought to escort the Crown Princess here. He felt irritated for no reason.

Edith caught her breath and opened her mouth.

“Crown Prince’s bedchamber maids—”

He immediately corrected her.

“Just maids.”

“Twelve arrived.”

“Bernard.”

“Yes, Prince Wilfred.”

Bernard swallowed dryly and responded. Wilfred gestured toward his consort.

“Interpret.”

Her sudden visit was already annoying, and continuing to hear that confusing speech would make him angrier. Bernard dutifully began interpreting.

“It seems twelve maids went to see Her Highness the Crown Princess…As many as twelve?”

“Keep your thoughts to yourself. And?”

“Smooth sleep was disturbed.”

“She says she couldn’t sleep well because of that.”

So what? It’s natural to sleep poorly when your bed changes. 

Whether twelve or twenty-two maids, couldn’t she just kick them out? Just tell them to get lost and they’d disappear sobbing, never to return.

Wilfred met Edith’s eyes.

‘Lilac.’

The name of the flower that hadn’t come to him last night happened to come to mind now. He irritably brushed the thought away.

“I’m pretty sure I said not to bother me with trivial things like that.”

“‘Don’t you dare question me.’”

“Uh… should I interpret this too?”

Wilfred shook his head. Those were words he’d said to Edith yesterday. Who knew she’d remember them without missing a single syllable? 

Strictly speaking, ‘don’t bother me’ and ‘don’t question me’ had different meanings. But to quote someone’s words back at them verbatim?

“…Then let’s make what I just said the second rule of Osborne Palace.”

Rodney cleared his throat.

“Prince Wilfred. Still, you should at least confirm why she came all this way…”

“Didn’t I ask that at the beginning?”

“Head was hurt.”

At the word ‘hurt,’ Wilfred turned to look at her. She looked a bit tired but not like a sick person. Bernard remained faithful to his role.

“It seems she has a headache.”

“Then tell her to go get more sleep.”

Edith explained.

“Not head, hair…”

When the three men just stared blankly, she looked frustrated. Then she suddenly approached Wilfred, stood on tiptoe, and grabbed a handful of his hair.

“Your Highness the Crown Princess! Use your words!”

“Your Highness the Crown Prince! Are you all right?”

Rodney and Bernard cried out, turning pale. As for Wilfred, he was so dumbfounded that words momentarily failed him. 

Though she let go quickly, what Edith had just done could only be interpreted as ‘daring to yank the Crown Prince’s hair.’

“What in the…”

Wilfred muttered. Edith bowed her head slightly in apology.

“Maids did that.”

“Uh… she says while she was sleeping, twelve maids appeared and yanked Her Highness the Crown Princess’s hair?”

Wilfred, barely recovered from the shocking aftermath of the Crown Princess’s action, pointed out.

“Does that make sense? She must mean they pulled her hair too tight when styling it.”

“Do you actually need my interpretation? …Maybe they did it to keep her hair from falling down?”

Edith had her long hair elegantly braided up, and it suited her better. Pulling hair taut enough to stretch the forehead and rolling it up in a large bun on the crown was a style Queen Annabel, his mother, had favored. 

It made her look even slightly younger, and she could stick in all sorts of hair ornaments densely packed according to the fashion of the time. Wilfred remembered that abusing her hair that way had caused so much hair loss later that she’d had to wear hairpieces.

“What if it falls down a little?”

Edith gestured to redirect his attention.

“Also dislike clothing.”

“What you’re wearing now is fine.”

He wasn’t trying to dismiss her words—it was true. 

But looking closely, the embroidery on the hem and sleeve ends was from Aberdeen. He remembered the wardrobe maids making such a fuss about needing to alter Her Highness the Crown Princess’s dresses that it had irritated him. 

How long could it take to alter a mere fifty dresses?

“Additionally, uncomfortable observation of me.”

He turned his gaze from her. Though hers was a face he wouldn’t tire of looking at. To summarize, she didn’t like the hair and clothes the maids gave her.

“Bernard. Tell Her Highness the Crown Princess that if she doesn’t like the assigned maids, she can call the head maid and speak to her directly.”

“Head maid not exist.”

Bernard interjected.

“Your Highness the Crown Princess, Osborne Palace has a head maid. I’ll arrange a separate introduction—”

What use was a secretary who couldn’t understand? Wilfred glared at Bernard, then addressed Edith directly.

“You went looking but she wasn’t there, or you called but she didn’t come. Right, Edith?”

“’Called but didn’t come.’”

She repeated his words precisely.

After the wedding ceremony yesterday, there had been a gathering where the palace servants and maids paid their respects to the new Crown Princess. 

Wilfred had naturally received greetings alongside her. He was sure he’d told the head maid then to serve Her Highness the Crown Princess well…

‘The Crown Princess called but she didn’t come?’

The audacity…?

Disliking the clothes or hair was a minor issue. That minor issue leading the Crown Princess to seek the head maid, only to be defied—that was a serious problem.

Wilfred’s tone turned cold.

“Bernard. Bring the Dowager Duchess of Bodley. Right now.”