Chapter 13 – Noblewoman Serial M*rder Case

“Gentlemen like us need to cut loose from time to time, you know.”

He must have been so drunk that he forgot they were outside. Marquis Lamon shrugged his shoulders, trying to cover up his friend’s mistake.

In fact, even the now devoted husbands, Lamon and Gérard, had once been unable to escape the lure of cheap gambling dens in their reckless youth. That was only possible before Gérard’s family went bankrupt.

“But you don’t mean to say you suspect the Duke, do you?”

Remembering those places, filled with the scent of cheap leaf tobacco, strong liquor, and scantily clad women, Marquis Lamon flinched.

Gérard, who had carelessly criticized Duke Vallière, was also startled and shook his head.

“What are you talking about? No, you said it yourself. The last person with Inès Ancourt was the Duke.”

“Well, I only heard that from my wife…”

“Wait, is that true? Miss Inès Ancourt spent late hours with the Duke?”

A young man passing by interrupted Lamon’s vague answer, his face full of excitement as he pulled out a notebook and pen—he looked like a newspaper reporter.

“How would we know? Hurry up, Lamon. If we don’t, our wives will scold us.”

“Y-yes, let’s go. Don’t spread pointless rumors!”

Not wanting to get caught up in the commotion, Gérard hurriedly pushed Marquis Lamon’s back. Lamon shouted at the young man.

Only after they had walked far enough to be out of sight did they part ways and return to their homes. Of course, since the sun was already high, it was inevitable that their wives, who were awake, bombarded them with a storm of nagging.

“Are you out of your mind, Gérard! It’s fine to go to the clubhouse, but you must come home before dawn!”

“I-I’m sorry. I was playing pool with Lamon…”

“No excuses! Oh, this awful smell of alcohol. Go wash up, now.”

Angela, wrapped in a gray shawl, clicked her tongue and pointed at the stairs from the doorway. Gérard, shoulders drooping, couldn’t say a word and went upstairs.

“Pool, huh? Did you win any money?”

At that moment, Rosalie, coming down from upstairs, asked with amusement. Gérard felt a moment of relief—thank goodness.

Rosalie seemed to be in a good mood. It looked like Gérard’s worry about her running into Duke Vallière hadn’t come true.

“I won enough for my cute little sister and beloved wife to enjoy afternoon tea at the hotel lounge.”

“What? Really?”

Rosalie, who loved sweet desserts and teatime, was visibly delighted. Even Angela, who had been boiling inside, peeked her face out slyly.

Where was the noble who couldn’t even enjoy such small luxuries? Gérard, feeling miserable, tried not to show it as he puffed up his chest and pulled out his wallet.

“A whole 100 Yura. Go enjoy yourselves.”

“You can’t really enjoy much with just 100 Yura.”

Angela, as if she had been waiting, snatched the bills from Gérard’s hand and scoffed. Gérard pretended to sob, burying his face, but failed to regain his wife’s attention.

Angela soon passed Gérard on the stairs, linked arms with Rosalie, and smiled brightly.

“How about it, Rosalie? Want to go out right now?”

“That sounds great. Besides, I have to return the dress I borrowed yesterday.”

“Alright, let’s get ready and meet at the front door in an hour.”

Gérard watched the two women head to their rooms with light steps, rubbing his nose and giving a faint smile.

Then, as the effects of last night’s drinking returned, he rubbed his heavy eyelids and climbed the stairs, not knowing what would happen after his nap.

***

When Angela and Rosalie arrived at the hotel lounge after stopping by the dress shop, they sensed something was different from usual.

The lounge, which had been famous among noblewomen since it opened, was unusually quiet today.

“Did something happen? Isn’t this the trendy place for teatime these days?”

After ordering a tea set with strawberry tart, they looked around. Last year, the place had been so crowded you needed a reservation.

“Really. Even the waiters have been looking at us strangely since we arrived.”

“Don’t tell me there was a cockroach in the food and we didn’t know.”

“Oh, that’s awful. Don’t say things like that before we eat. It ruins my appetite.”

Lowering their voices and joking, they straightened up when they saw a staff member pushing a trolley toward them. An intricately patterned teapot was set on the table.

“Excuse me, Madame. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard your conversation.”

“Yes, what is it?”

Their eyes were drawn to the three-tier tray filled with gold-topped strawberry tart, fruit sandwiches, and cookies studded with chocolate. The gloved staff member spoke awkwardly.

“Our lounge always takes hygiene seriously. There has never been an issue with bugs, so please rest assured.”

“…Sorry, I must have spoken too loudly. I just remembered it’s always crowded here, so I was curious why it’s so quiet today.”

Rosalie felt her face heat up. She hadn’t expected her conversation with her sister-in-law to be overheard. If the lounge had been as busy as usual, it wouldn’t have happened.

“It’s probably because of the article in this morning’s paper. I’m sure you both know already.”

Angela and Rosalie clammed up and looked at each other. It had been years since they’d subscribed to a newspaper.

After reading the article about Hystein becoming Duke Vallière, Gérard had ostentatiously canceled their subscription. Most of the following articles were gossip and slander about Rosalie or Gérard.

“Don’t tell me… you haven’t heard?”

The lounge staff paused pouring tea and asked, eyes wide with disbelief as if something major had happened.

“You know Miss Inès from the Ancourt family, right? She was found this morning in a terrible state. She wasn’t breathing.”

“…Inès? The same Inès who always accompanies Princess Camille?”

Rosalie covered her mouth and asked again. Just last night, Inès had grabbed her hand and greeted her, saying they should get along. Could it be someone with the same name? Rosalie’s body temperature dropped rapidly.

“I heard she’d been seeing Duke Vallière recently. It’s such a shame. What could have happened…”

“Ugh.”

Suddenly, Rosalie’s stomach churned and her head spun. She turned away, feeling nauseous, and Angela stood up abruptly.

“We should go. Could you pack the untouched desserts for us?”

“Pardon? Yes, of course…”

The staff looked at Rosalie curiously, then transferred the tray back to the trolley. When the desserts, now in a box with the hotel logo, returned to the table, they quickly paid and left the lounge.

“Are you alright, Rosalie?”

“No…”

On the carriage ride home, Rosalie complained of a headache. It was a shock that someone who had been alive just yesterday was now dead—and an even greater shock that they were the only ones who hadn’t known about the incident.

And though she hadn’t seen it herself, Hystein had gone to the theater with Inès. What could have happened after that for Inès to end up dead?

***

That evening, while the maid and nanny prepared dinner and Angela looked after the baby, someone banged loudly on the front door. Since they couldn’t afford a servant, Gérard, who had only woken up at sunset, greeted the visitor himself.

“Who could it be…”

“Gérard Malève! Something terrible has happened. Your name is in the headlines!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look at this. ‘Earl Malève suspects Duke Vallière in the death of Miss Inès Ancourt!’”

“What does that mean? I never said anything like that!”

Gérard, who hadn’t even washed his face since waking up, rubbed his rough face. Marquis Lamon opened the newspaper and thrust it in front of Gérard.

“That young man who chased us this morning! It must be him! My goodness, to drag you into such a tragic case…”

“They’re trying to drag Rosalie in, not me! Isn’t it obvious? These wretched people, rehashing old stories that should have ended long ago.”

Gérard’s bloodshot eyes scanned the article in an instant.