Olivia, who had been watching for an opportunity, stretched out her foot aiming for another spot, but Richard smiled and pulled his foot back. His natural skill in leading smoothly without missing the beat was so natural that from a distance, Olivia would probably look like someone who could dance reasonably well. Despite the smoothness she had never experienced with any partner, Olivia, who was thoroughly annoyed, had a more uncomfortable face than ever.

“So are you here now to tell me to take responsibility?”

“Would you do that?”

“No.”

“I thought so. Fortunately, I didn’t come to demand responsibility either.”

“If you’re expecting words of gratitude, you’d better wake up from that dream.”

Richard smiled and put strength into the hand wrapped around her waist. Olivia felt the two arms wrapping around her firmly and straightened her back. The uncomfortably close distance began to register belatedly.

“It seems you haven’t given up your intention. Then are you scouting for someone today as well?”

“Do I have to answer?”

“You don’t have to, but that just now seems to be a sufficient answer.”

“There must be quite a few women craving Richard Dalton’s attention, so please pour it on those who want it. Not me.”

“How unexpected.”

Olivia’s eyebrows rose at the sudden remark. Richard waited for Olivia’s gaze to reach him, then slowly continued.

“Weren’t you thinking of me as Dickson all along?”

“……Don’t tell me your job of representing Richard Dickson still isn’t finished? Wasn’t that long-winded letter enough? Then go ahead and try more. I’ll gladly listen.”

“What would my thoughts matter at this point? Even my aunt seems to find Vivian Bennett’s story more interesting than her nephew’s story. Still, if possible, please choose someone other than me next time. One lifetime as a scoundrel is enough.”

While Olivia, who had lost her words, entrusted her body to his lead, the music was coming to an end. After several failed attempts, Olivia gave up aiming for Richard’s feet and couldn’t hide her impatience as she glanced toward the orchestra. She couldn’t let Richard go like this. Something. Just something before missing this opportunity.

“It’s not completely terrible, unlike the rumors.”

“What did you say?”

“The dancing. Everyone said they got stepped on badly, so I was worried.”

Olivia glared at him with an incredulous face, but an effective way to shut that annoying mouth didn’t readily come to mind. What had it been like in the writing she had done so far? If they were male and female protagonists, they would have at least kissed at the end of raised voices, but Richard Dalton wasn’t a male protagonist. Olivia Jennings wasn’t a female protagonist either. At least not now.

“You don’t need to worry too much.”

“I never worried.”

“Miss Jennings—has simply not met the right partner.”

Surely he didn’t mean that was himself. Olivia didn’t withdraw her suspicious gaze from Richard, who was giving his closing greeting.

“So don’t act like someone who has given up on herself. Isn’t that too much of a waste of yourself?”

Thus ended Olivia Jennings’ waltz, where for the first time she didn’t step on feet—or more precisely, couldn’t step on feet.

***

Olivia Jennings. Vivian Bennett.

Do writers originally have to have separate pen names like that? From the carriage ride home until this morning, Richard had been thinking such thoughts.

He had also compared which would be more troublesome between the daughter of Count Dalton’s family and the daughter of Baron Jennings’ family, and it was indeed a headache-inducing difficult problem. While thinking he didn’t need to worry about other families’ affairs when he already had enough problems of his own, he couldn’t help but be grateful that Iris hadn’t taken such bold actions.

Last night’s encounter had been unexpected, but thanks to it, he was able to spend the party a little less boringly. It was quite enjoyable to watch the men who had been thoroughly beaten by Olivia Jennings’ troublesome footwork return with faces different from their initial expectations.

When he observed with interest, he could see that the men approaching Olivia all had the common trait of being uniformly mediocre. One of them was also notorious for his terrible breath, and he had to suppress laughter when he saw that she didn’t even dance with that man.

However, excluding that man, Olivia was generally favorable to the men who approached her. Of course, Richard Dalton was an exception and didn’t belong to that category, but anyway, last night’s Olivia Jennings was nothing short of a generous and free spirit who didn’t block gentlemen who came and didn’t hold onto gentlemen who left.

If only it hadn’t been for the combination of the gaze that scrutinized approaching partners closely, the fingertips that betrayed impatience, and the fresh scent of punch mixed in her exhaled breath. And if he hadn’t known what Olivia Jennings had plotted under another name. Richard would have also passed over Olivia as merely a free spirit.

He could tell without the trouble of asking that Vivian Bennett still hadn’t given up her plan. Did that woman know what she was trying to do? By the time that thought occurred to him, he had already taken a step.

The feeling that she looked so precarious at first glance that he absolutely couldn’t leave her alone was, after all, because of Iris. The thought that his sister might have acted like Vivian Bennett if it hadn’t been for Erskine Riddle, whom she met through letter games, naturally led to his action.

Richard Dalton briefly agonized over why there were only such difficult women around him. Though there weren’t many women around him to begin with, how was it that even the women he happened to meet were all equally challenging?

Richard laughed like the wind, recalling the poison-filled feet of the woman he met yesterday. Though he didn’t know where and how he would meet her again, he prayed that next time, someone other than himself would step forward.

***

Olivia ultimately refused the publishing house’s proposal to bind “The Last Lover” and publish it as a book. Despite receiving quite good response for something that started with competitiveness and rebelliousness, she had no choice but to decline, and it was probably because of that last letter. Every time she looked at the manuscript of “The Last Lover,” ‘Richard Dickson’s’ letter would echo in ‘Richard Dalton’s’ voice. The pressure to write something splendidly impressive kept tormenting Olivia.

Though one might question whether there was a need to have such wasteful emotions toward Richard Dalton, who didn’t even belong to the main readership, everyone follows emotion over reason when it comes to matters of pride. Olivia was in exactly that state now. Even useless stubbornness was fine. Though she knew that anything could become ammunition for someone who wanted to find fault, she became greedy. She wanted to write something that even such a man would find convincing.

The publishing house didn’t persist further. It might have been because they guessed her unspoken circumstances from Olivia’s expression, or anyway because “The Last Lover” was a work that carried the dangerous element called Richard Dalton. In the end, Olivia agreed to leave her recent serialized work as it was and publish books starting from her next manuscript.

Perhaps because she had quite enjoyed success with the serialized work, Mr. Abbott suggested serializing her next work in a weekly or monthly magazine before binding it into a book. The advance payment he presented was also more than double the previous amount, reflecting the performance of her latest work. He also said that it was rare to generate such profit in a genre other than detective novels, so their expectations for Olivia were high.

“I’ll think about it.”

That was all Olivia could promise now.

When she left the publishing house after deciding to discuss serialization and other matters once the next manuscript was ready, it was midday.

Olivia, who had closed her eyes and raised her head for a moment, enjoying the sunlight touching her cheeks after a long time, lifted her eyelids as she felt a shadow cast over her. The shadow that had approached too quietly to be the carriage she was waiting for belonged to Richard Dalton.

“Lord Dalton?”

Richard lightly lifted the hat he was wearing and made welcoming eyes.

“We meet again like this, Miss Jennings.”

“……It’s Bennett.”

Olivia, who scanned the surroundings with a tense face, glared with sharp eyes and gripped the parasol she was holding tightly.

“Ah, it’s that side this time?”

“For someone who said he would watch from afar with a supportive heart, don’t you appear too often?”

“You have sufficient reason to be suspicious, but I simply have other business now.”

Richard gestured toward the building behind Olivia.

“Here?”

“That’s right.”

“This is a publishing house.”

“Is there some reason I can’t have business at a publishing house?”

Well, it’s not that, but…… Olivia, who struggled not to scrunch her face at the irritation that surged up, stepped aside to make room.

“Have all the business you want and go back then.”

Just then, the carriage she had been waiting for stopped in front of them. Richard naturally overtook Olivia, who was moving without looking back. Olivia stared at the hand extended toward her beside the open door with white eyes. Richard smiled like a harmless person and lifted the hand he had extended a little higher.

“I can’t just let a lady go.”

The gaze searching for something hidden behind the long-tailed smile was thorough and long. Olivia, who finished her brief contemplation, reluctantly accepted the unwelcome courtesy and placed her small hand on it.

Richard, who arranged her skirt hem so it wouldn’t get tangled in the large wheels, stood looking at Olivia who had boarded the carriage. His eyes, holding the open door with one hand and looking up at her, were still smiling.

“Is the preparation for your next work going well?”