Chapter 1.11

Liz stood there, staring blankly at his retreating figure before turning back to the table.  

“Well then, shall we chat with the new bride now?”  

Numerous eyes fell on Liz, accompanied by deep smiles.  

Liz swallowed nervously.  

Of course, she was tense, but she no longer felt the desperate urge to flee.  

‘So far, it hasn’t been bad. I’ve managed to hold conversations for quite a while.’  

Liz steadied her resolve and took a sip of champagne.  

Memories of the various hardships she had endured as a maid flashed through her mind.  

‘Will they scold me for wasting fine wine? Or perhaps they’ll order me to serve them instead.’  

Her thoughts were a jumble, but Liz tried to maintain a composed expression as she set down her half-empty glass.  

She had come prepared for verbal abuse and even physical blows.  

Even if someone poured this wine on her face right now, she felt confident she wouldn’t cry.  

Such things were all too familiar to a maid.  

“Oh my, are you running out of drink, Isabel?”  

But the next words weren’t insults; instead, they came with an unexpectedly kind laugh.  

Slightly startled, Liz hesitated for a moment as a servant approached with a bottle of wine.  

At the gesture of a noblewoman across the table, Liz’s glass—still containing some wine—was refilled with champagne.  

Liz glanced at the bubbling liquid and nodded slightly.  

“Thank you, Madame.”  

“You’re welcome, Isabel.”  

The response was gracious.  

But the subtle whispers and laughter that followed made Liz’s mouth dry.  

‘…Something feels off.’  

Yet Valentine, the one who could answer her doubts, was nowhere to be found.  

Liz cautiously brought the glass to her lips, her expression tense.  

‘Hmm. It tastes the same.’  

The sweetness of the wine calmed her nerves.  

Though she had worried, the wine hadn’t been tampered with—no saltwater or anything of the sort.  

Nor was it overly strong to humiliate her.  

As Liz relaxed, one noble spoke up.

“What kind of drink do you prefer, Miss Isabel…?”  

Though the tone was friendly, there was a subtle sharpness to the words.

Even Liz, who wasn’t well-versed in the noble way of speaking, could sense the trap hidden in the question.  

If she mentioned the wrong drink, they would mock her for suddenly changing her preferences.

However, Liz knew Isabel’s preferences better than anyone.  

Thus, she answered without hesitation.  

“Actually, I enjoy wine more than champagne, Madame Louise.”  

At Liz’s response, Louise’s expression turned peculiar as she nodded.  

It was clear she wasn’t pleased that Liz had dodged the trap.  

‘If the Duke had seen this, he might have praised me for doing well.’  

Liz hid her sense of pride behind a bright smile.  

At that moment, a familiar voice reached her ears.  

“Oh my, here’s the wine, Isabel!”  

Liz’s back stiffened.  

Standing there was Manon, holding a bottle of wine.  

“Miss Manon? Please, come join us.” 

As Liz froze, Louise welcomed Manon with a radiant smile.  

“To celebrate, I’ll personally pour for you, Isabel.”  

Manon was smiling brightly, but her eyes betrayed no joy.  

The malice in her gaze made Liz’s shoulders tremble.  

Even the way she repeatedly emphasized the name “Isabel” carried a deliberate intent.  

“Here. Take it.”  

Manon tilted the wine bottle toward Liz’s glass, which still contained some champagne.  

Flustered, Liz pulled her glass back and spoke.  

“Uh… I think we should change the glass first….”  

At that moment, Louise interjected with a laugh.  

“Oh my, didn’t you just accept wine in a partially empty glass?”  

“That’s right. I thought Isabel was being considerate of the maids.”  

“Well… that makes sense, doesn’t it….”  

The murmurs grew louder, and Liz’s eyes wavered.  

Only then did Liz realize she had made a mistake.  

She stammered in her attempt to explain.  

“T-That was because it was the same wine….”  

Laughter erupted, growing louder.  

Manon poured the deep red wine into Liz’s glass, almost as if she were spilling it.  

“Oh, is it too strong?”  

Manon giggled as she set the wine bottle down and added juice to the glass.  

The laughter around them grew even more boisterous.  

“Drink up, Isabel.”  

The mixture of wine and juice was shoved toward Liz’s face.  

Liz bit her lip tightly and glared at the glass.  

‘Stay calm. The Duke believes in me.’  

No matter how insignificant Liz might seem as a maid, at least for now, she belonged to Winchester.  

“…I’m sorry, but I think I’ve had enough wine. My head is starting to ache, so I’ll take a short break.”  

Liz spoke firmly and tried to rise from her seat.  

But at that moment, Manon leaned in and whispered near Liz’s ear.  

“You’re just a toy.”  

“…What?”  

“Don’t you understand yet? The Duke threw you to us as a toy.”  

Liz’s vision blurred.  

She wanted to deny it. To say the Duke trusted her and left her here.  

But Manon chuckled softly and added—

“Would the Duke have left you here alone otherwise?”  

Liz’s mouth hung slightly open.  

Manon was right. The nobles were watching them as if they were enjoying a delightful comedy.  

“You’re nothing but furniture.”  

Valentine’s cold voice echoed in her mind.  

Manon continued to whisper with a stifled laugh.  

“So, drink up, Isabel.”  

“Yes, Isabel.”  

“You always liked wine, didn’t you? Isabel.”  

Isabel. Isabel.  

The whispers of the crowd seemed to engulf Liz’s mind.  

Then.  

“Oh, my apologies.”  

Liz’s glass, filled with the mixed drink, toppled over onto the table.  

A man with a gentle expression stood there, looking awkward.  

“Viscount Theodore?”  

Theodore bowed politely and spoke.  

“I’ve had too much to drink. Please forgive my rudeness.”  

His courteous demeanor left the others speechless, unable to say anything.  

Liz tried to suppress her surprise as she looked at Theodore.  

‘How is Theo here….’  

Liz, her brother, and Theodore had once been close friends.  

Theodore’s father was a merchant dealing in foreign art, while the Garrett family ran a small art supply shop locally.  

“Oh, my goodness, Miss! What’s happened to your dress?”  

At that moment, Martha appeared as though she had been waiting for this.  

“Come, come. Quickly now! If you stay in wet clothes, you’ll catch a cold.”  

“Th-Thank you.”  

Liz quickly stood and followed Martha to the dressing room.  

Theodore winked and whispered to her.  

“See you behind the dressing room, Liz.”  

Liz. Not Isabel, but Liz!  

The sound of her name brought tears to Liz’s eyes.  

Just knowing there was someone in this banquet hall who called her Liz was enough to ease her heart.  

Liz suppressed her emotions and replied softly.  

“Thank you, Theo.”  

***

At the entrance of Winchester Estate, Valentine’s uncle, Archibald Winchester, was causing a scene.  

“Lord Archibald, please—this behavior is unacceptable….”  

Archibald, holding a whiskey bottle in one hand, shouted furiously.  

“Let go of me! How dare you stop me at Winchester Estate?”  

His dazzling blond hair and blue eyes were undeniable proof that he was a Winchester as well.  

But perhaps due to his drunken state, his eyes carried a murky hue.  

“Step aside, now!”  

“Aah!”  

Archibald swung the hand holding the bottle.  

Liquor splashed out of the loosely sealed bottle.  

Had it been anyone else, such threatening behavior would have resulted in immediate expulsion.  

But the estate’s staff couldn’t treat Archibald, a noble and a Winchester, so harshly.  

Thus, their attempts to restrain him were limited.  

They could only block his path without physically touching him.  

Then the sound of footsteps echoed.  

“What a distinguished guest we have here.”  

The voice froze time.  

The staff, as well as Archibald himself, stopped abruptly.  

If sound had a color, this voice would be gold.  

Like the legendary figure whose touch turned everything to gold, Valentine Winchester stood there.  

“D-Duke…!”  

Relief washed over the staff’s faces.  

Finally, someone who could handle Archibald had arrived.  

Even though Archibald was the elder, Valentine was the Duke of Winchester.  

It was only natural that Archibald couldn’t treat him as dismissively as he did the staff.  

“Ah, I see. My apologies for the delay in greeting you.”  

Archibald brushed off the hand of a servant blocking him and raised his chin.  

“Is this how I taught you, Valentine?”  

His tone was inherently arrogant, but it was more refined than when he addressed the staff.  

He was a quintessential noble of Holt Kingdom, meticulously dividing people by class.  

“My apologies, Uncle. Many have come to celebrate Winchester’s prosperity, and my steps were delayed.”  

Valentine bowed gracefully and continued.  

“Is that a celebratory drink you’re holding? I’ll gladly accept it now.”  

Archibald’s face stiffened.  

Valentine smiled faintly and addressed the staff.  

“I’ve kept you waiting, and for that, I apologize. Please bring a glass now.”  

At that moment, Archibald’s face flushed red as if he had been struck.  

It was a clear act of mockery.  

To say he would accept the drink here implied there was no intention of inviting Archibald inside.  

“You insolent brat!”  

Archibald threw the bottle to the ground.  

Liquor spilled across the grass.  

“Duke!”  

“Are you all right?”  

The startled staff moved to shield Valentine.  

But Valentine raised his hand silently, signaling them to step back.  

Archibald, further enraged by the gesture, shouted.  

“Do you think I’m here because of the title? I came as your elder to offer advice because you’re ruining Winchester! You neglect the legacy of our family’s businesses…”  

Valentine replied to Archibald’s roaring accusations with a neutral expression.  

“Yes, as you’ve said, Winchester heirs are taught to cherish everything about Winchester.”