Ch#31
“You look truly beautiful, miss! Didn’t I tell you? Applying this Flower Water Powder would make you look so much prettier. Hohoho!”
“Is that so...? My cheeks don’t look too red, do they?”
“This kind of makeup is all the rage these days. It gives you a healthy glow and makes you look young—perfect, right?”
Linia kept turning her head side to side, awkwardly staring at her much rosier cheeks in the mirror than usual.
Marsha kept egging her on from beside her.
“You know this was something I lined up for at dawn to barely snag one, right? They’re sold out everywhere.”
“It costs 400 ringtons each, and they’re sold out?”
“To nobles, 400 ringtons is pocket change. They say a new product will come out in a few months—I’ll go even earlier then and buy two. We have rose, so crimson and light purple shades would be good, right?”
Linia panicked at Marsha’s words about buying two 400-rington cosmetics.
*Spoils of war*
“What? N-no need for that!”
“It’s fine, miss. Losing a bit of sleep for you? No big deal. Hohoho!”
*Duchess*
Marsha kept flaunting her loyalty, oblivious to Linia’s concerns.
Truly written by Lemon Frog
Her sudden fervor toward Linia, whom she’d inwardly looked down on until recently, was naturally all because of Edel.
“By the way, miss.”
“Yes?”
“There’s something that’s been worrying me.”
“Worrying? What is it?”
Marsha sidled right up next to Linia, who was still busy peering into the mirror.
“That woman who used to be the duchess.”
“Right, didn’t she nearly die because of you? What exactly happened? Don’t you know messing with my brother could get you killed?”
.
Far from comforting Marsha, Linia shot her a sideways glare and demanded.
- 2 -
Linia believed her brother should marry a modest, pure noble lady without flaws.
Marsha suppressed the urge to grab Linia by the hair and shake her, forcing the most pitiful expression she could muster.
She took odd pride in her brother maintaining a clean private life amid the mercenary guild rife with all sorts of sordid rumors, and she still harbored fantasies about marriage.
She couldn’t tolerate her brother keeping as a mistress a woman who had been some old man’s second wife—especially from a treasonous house, now a mere maid.
“I feel wronged, miss. She doesn’t even talk to me—how was I supposed to know she was sick? I suspect she faked it just to spite me.”
“With Uncle Ailan there, how could she fool him?”
“So, did that woman throw herself at my brother?”
“It seems she failed for now. She came right back out not long after. But you know how it is—there’s no man who can resist a woman tempting him with her body to the end.”
Linia recalled the time she’d pretended to faint to get her brother’s attention, only for Ailan’s examination to expose it as malingering.
Laslo had scolded her until tears poured out, and after that, Linia never tried faking illness again.
Linia ground her teeth.
As Linia refused to fully take her side, Marsha boiled inside.
“Acting all prim and proper with that innocent face, but when desperate, she tries seducing him with her body?”
*‘It’s because you’re an idiot who can’t act! Poor me, serving such a mistress!’*
“What did I tell you? I said she was rotten inside. She’s a traitor—a traitor!”
But she couldn’t say that aloud.
As Linia finally got riled up just as planned, Marsha excitedly rattled on.
The master of this house was Laslo, but he was too busy with palace duties to be home much. Here, the one wielding power was Linia, not Laslo.
“Anyway, that’s not what’s worrying me, miss.”
Marsha was convinced she’d ultimately win by keeping such a figure of real power in her pocket.
“Then? What else?”
*‘Just watch. I’ll make that Edel bitch and her cronies grovel to me!’*
Marsha whispered into Linia’s ear as if afraid someone might overhear.
But for now, even Linia couldn’t touch Edel.
“I think that Edel woman is targeting the count.”
“What?”
“She’ll rest a few more days, then your brother will put her back to work. We’ll give her a stern warning then.”
At those words, Linia’s brow furrowed deeply too. Seeing she’d finally hooked her, Marsha began flicking her snakelike tongue.
“Let me say it once more: the only one who can protect the count from those vulgar women chasing money and status is you, miss.”
“Fine, enough yapping. You’re annoying me.”
“Yesterday, Mina went to place the chamber pot in the count’s bedroom and saw Edel heading into his study—late at night, no less.”
“Placing the chamber pot? That’s pretty late, isn’t it?”
Linia finally snapped at Marsha, whose intentions to use her to get at Edel were obvious.
“Exactly! Why go to a man’s room alone so late? Her intentions are crystal clear!”
Anyway, Linia found Edel just as detestable, so she had no intention of ignoring Marsha’s plea.
If Marsha’s suspicions were true, it was unpleasant for Linia too.
She’d probably come thinking she’d be his mistress, but ended up doing maid work—must have burned her up inside. Now using this as an excuse to cling to her brother...
*‘My brother can’t have a sordid past!’*
Linia resolved to stay sharp to protect her brother.
.
*‘Where on earth do they find butlers like this?’*
The Celestine Marchioness Dowager’s residence was on Herona Street, 2nd District, Grania Street.
Thinking of the papers piled on his desk made his head throb again.
Grania Street wasn’t quite on Herona Street’s level, but it was still a famous noble residential area, kept impeccably clean and well-maintained.
As he glanced around the reception room, the Celestine Marquis and Marchioness Dowager finally entered.
But Laslo found such noble streets burdensome.
“At last, we meet, Count Criserus!”
*‘Patrice Street is far better. Not crowded, close to the palace.’*
The mid-thirties Celestine Marquis welcomed the younger Laslo warmly. Whether genuine would reveal itself in time.
Laslo crossed the Celestine Marchioness Dowager’s gate, reaffirming he’d done well to take the Patrice Street mansion.
Today was the day she’d requested the meeting.
“Thank you for inviting me, Marquis Celestine. And... Marchioness Dowager.”
*‘The mansion is smaller than expected.’*
“Don’t use the cumbersome title—call me by a comfortable name. Just Barbara.”
Barbara was just as formidable at first glance as he’d briefly seen before. Now just turned sixty, apparently.
He’d visited many great nobles’ mansions following the emperor, but this was his first at Celestine.
True to a house that didn’t boast loudly in society or politics, the garden and mansion felt neat and tidy. Somehow sharp and decisive too.
That was surely due to traces of the Celestine Marchioness Dowager, famed as the ‘heroine who saved her house,’ still everywhere.
“I’m Laslo.”
“I know. But you’re still head of a house, so I’ll call you Count.”
Some gossiped she’d ‘eaten her husband,’ but so what if a woman stepped up when the house was crumbling?
Allowing his name but refusing to let him use hers felt like confirming her friendly boundaries.
Laslo smirked.
Yet he held Barbara in high regard.
“Better not to allow uncomfortable names between us.”
*‘The well-fed make strange rules in odd places.’*
“You have a point there.”
They probed without yielding an inch.
As they sat, maids laid out steaming black tea and tea foods on the table.
“Welcome to Celestine Marchioness Dowager’s residence, Sir Criserus.”
The tea foods and cups weren’t flashy, but the variety, placement, tea temperature, and pouring service showed consideration for the guest.
Laslo was inwardly impressed.
Laslo received a warm welcome from the affable butler as he alighted the carriage.
The butler guided him to the reception room with perfectly measured courtesy—nothing more, nothing less.
*‘Could our house manage a guest welcome like this?’*
Laslo envied that one butler more than the beautiful reception room.
He’d never hosted guests, but picturing Linia or Marsha made the answer obvious.
.
