Chapter 3

“Countess Malève and Lady Rosalie, correct? If you wait a moment, our staff will guide you.”

“Thank you, Madame. But our clothes are wet from the rain, so we’d really like to go inside quickly.”

The first to recover wasn’t Rosalie or him. It was Angela, her new sister-in-law, who knew her past and, looking back and forth between Rosalie and him in shock, made a request to the Madam.

“Of course. Sophie! Lead the ladies to a warm seat!”

Noticing the tense air inside the boutique, the Madame called out urgently. Then her lover—no, the Duke of Vallière—gave Rosalie and Angela a light bow, then left the boutique quickly without exchanging any greetings.

“Ah…….”

Left standing in the space where he had disappeared, Rosalie could not believe what she’d just seen.

That he had erased his confused gaze in an instant and passed her by with such a calm face; that she herself hadn’t been able to react at all in that moment.

“Sister, wait. I’ll just go outside for a moment……”

“No.”

Even just one minute would have been enough. She wanted to stop him and talk. There were so many things she wanted to say, but above all, she just wanted to ask if he had been well.

There were so many things she was curious about. The large crescent-shaped scar beneath his beautiful eyes—had it happened that day, ten years ago?

He said he’d lived in the warm southern continent, yet his skin was still as pale as plaster. Was he still painting as before? And did he ever……

Miss her?

But Angela held her back firmly, as if she might run out at any moment.

“You must never get involved with him again. You know this, Rosalie? I understand how you feel, but you must act like a mature lady.”

“No, you don’t know. You don’t know how I feel right now, Sister. I, I……”

Her lips trembled. Her gaze was fixed on the glass door where the Duke of Vallière had disappeared, unable to move.

Was this a dream or reality? She wanted to push Angela away and chase after the Duke right now.

That’s how desperate she felt. But—

“……I’m sorry, Sister. I’m alright now. Shall we go look at the dresses? We don’t have much time to prepare, do we?”

Rosalie forced a smile and turned toward Angela. She knew now, as an adult, that the past had to be left in the past.

While trying on the dress that Countess Aloua had picked out in advance, Rosalie’s mind wandered elsewhere. Even Angela, who had blocked her so firmly, seemed to have no intention of interfering further and left her alone.

The Duke of Vallière.

It was such a strange title. Ten years ago, she used to call him by the nickname “Hys.” Then he would call her “Rose,” telling her she was the rose that bloomed just for him, showering her with kisses.

Ah, how deeply they had loved each other.

The feelings left behind were far too deep to be called mere memories. Whenever he looked at others, his expression was cold, but it always softened when he looked at her, making her heart flutter every time.

“The bust is tight, but the waist is a little loose. If you want it altered by the day of the ball, it’ll be quite busy.”

Rosalie blinked at the Madame’s voice, having been standing absentmindedly. Seeing the Madame linger, it was clear she was hoping for a tip.

But there was no room in their budget for that. Rosalie hid her embarrassment and looked at Angela, who hurriedly rummaged through her purse.

“You’ve worked hard, Madame. I won’t forget your efforts.”

“Oh my, you didn’t have to!”

The Madame’s face lit up as she received two silver coins marked with the number 60. In fact, that money had been saved for stopping by a pretty café on the way back to their townhouse for a cup of tea.

Rosalie couldn’t hide her bitter feelings, but she and Angela left the boutique without showing it. They had even skipped lunch, planning to eat cake at the café.

“Maybe they want us to lose weight before the ball. Isn’t that right, Sister?”

“What weight do you have to lose, Rosalie? You’re already as thin as a stick.”

Angela spoke regretfully. In the Kingdom of Ipelda, a woman’s curvy figure was the standard of beauty. When her family’s situation wasn’t difficult, Rosalie had also been plump and healthy.

But now, past the age for marriage, she was skinny, financially struggling, and still mentioned in old scandals.

She realized once again that she was a poor prospect as a bride. The cold reality made her want to crawl into a mouse hole and hide.

So Rosalie went straight back to the townhouse and didn’t go out again until the day of the ball. She didn’t want to risk running into the Duke of Vallière looking so shabby.

***

Two days later.

Rosalie, Angela, and Gérard arrived at Count Aloua’s villa, located a little outside Rodin.

But “villa” was hardly the word for it; the place was more like a small palace, gifted to the Countess by the late King as a wedding present.

A vivid red carpet woven with gold thread lay atop cream-colored marble, dazzling chandeliers and a champagne fountain. The banquet hall was a place that sparkled brilliantly.

“Welcome, Earl Malève. Have you been well?”

“Thanks to you. You must have been busy, Countess, to host such a splendid ball.”

Gérard smiled kindly and pretended to kiss the back of Countess Aloua’s hand. The Countess greeted Angela next, then finally turned her gaze to Rosalie.

“Hm. Lady Rosalie seems even thinner than last year.”

“The winters in Malève’s estate are quite harsh. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Countess.”

She was rarely invited to parties, so this was a rare event for her. Trying to appear relaxed, she lifted and dropped her skirt to hide her nervousness.

Countess Aloua didn’t bother to hide her evaluative gaze, scanning Rosalie slowly. Then she smiled, her pale blue eyes crinkling.

“The dress I chose suits you well. I’m pleased.”

The wrinkles in her eyes only made the lady look more dignified. Countess Aloua was a beauty with bright golden hair streaked with white.

Even with a grown son, the Countess still shone. Wearing a deep green dress, Rosalie felt that the Countess stood out more than she herself did.

“I can only thank you for your kindness, Countess. ……By the way, who is the gentleman beside you?”

Rosalie asked, forcing a polite smile. From the beginning, a tall, thin man with a pale complexion had stood by the Countess’s side.

“Oh! You must mean my son. Let me introduce you—Jeremy, this lovely young lady is Lady Rosalie, with whom you are discussing marriage.”

It had been almost seven years since Rosalie had seen Jeremy. After causing an embarrassing incident, he hadn’t shown himself in public.

He looked just like Countess Aloua, with honey-golden hair and gentle eyes, but his bright blue eyes flickered with anxiety.

“Uh, n-nice to meet……you.”

“I’m pleased to meet you as well.”

Rosalie offered her hand as a formality. But Jeremy didn’t kiss the back of her hand like other gentlemen.

He looked terrified, as if he’d seen a ghost, and kept glancing at Countess Aloua. His cane shook uncontrollably.

“M-mother…… Is, is it done now? Can I go back to my room?”

“What are you saying? You must talk with Lady Rosalie and dance with her.”

Angela tried her best to hide her disappointment, while Gérard was busy greeting other nobles.

Countess Aloua kept glancing at Rosalie with an elegant smile, as if hoping she would approach Jeremy first.

“……May I call you by your name, Jeremy?”

“Ah, uh……”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He didn’t seem easy to talk to, so Rosalie decided on her own. But unable to withstand the Countess’s expectant gaze, Jeremy spoke again.

“Um, Jeremy, I’m feeling a bit warm. Would you mind showing me to a place where I can get some fresh air? Somewhere quiet, if possible.”

Gérard had told her that Jeremy was extremely shy and easily nervous. In that case, it would be better to take him somewhere quieter than here, where so many eyes were watching.

She asked, and sure enough, Jeremy couldn’t meet her eyes, but nodded, looking over her shoulder.

“Ah…… I-I’ll do that.”

Surprisingly, he offered his arm without his cane. She’d heard he had some intellectual difficulties, but at least he had learned basic gentlemanly manners.

It was a small relief amidst misfortune.