Chapter 23
Am I out of my mind?
Loic exhaled softly to himself, his eyes meeting those of the Grand Duchess.
The instant he caught sight of her pout, one word flashed through his thoughts: Cute.
She truly is irresistibly charming.
It would be stranger still not to find that look endearing.
In the end, he sought to defend his position and revealed the honest facts.
“Tomorrow brings training for the full knight order, keeping me at the grounds the entire day.”
“The full order?”
“It’s our quarterly inspection drill.”
“So every knight will attend?”
“All who’ve been formally knighted, yes.”
Her eyes sparked with interest at the news.
“May I observe?”
“No.”
“Of course!”
Loic and Perel voiced their responses in unison.
This fellow.
Loic fixed Perel with an icy glare, prompting him to seal his lips in sudden understanding.
“You cannot.”
“Whyever not?”
Reasons abounded.
You’re a marquis’s daughter.
Blenheim Knights’ training sessions ranked as classified affairs. Not even the Grand Duke’s household staff could witness them, much less an outsider bound for the capital in a year’s time.
But voicing that would surely wound her.
Loic adopted a light tone.
“It’s merely routine practice. Nothing worth an onlooker’s time…”
“An outsider?”
The Grand Duchess’s face clouded over, her eyes blinking with evident hurt.
“That’s harsh. I’m fully part of Blenheim these days—wed to you, after all.”
Loic recoiled inwardly.
That expression once more.
Steady on, Loic. You vowed to maintain distance.
He averted his gaze, but she abruptly jabbed a finger toward Perel.
“My own wedding officiant stands right there, yet you dismiss me as a stranger? The ring he slipped on my finger still fits perfectly.”
Sunlight danced off the band on her fourth finger.
“Isn’t that right, Perel?”
“Er… Your Highness…”
Perel darted an anxious look at Loic.
Hold on… a wedding ring?
Loic blinked, bewildered.
Perel had indeed sourced the ring; Loic hadn’t spared it a second thought.
The realization left him momentarily tongue-tied.
“Are you fretting that I’ll eavesdrop on your drills?”
As Loic faltered in silence, Perel jumped in to defuse the tension.
“Certainly not, Your Highness!”
“I’m not seeking the full spectacle. A quick visit will do.”
The Grand Duchess edged a step nearer.
“Moreover, I must greet the knights properly someday. Wouldn’t tomorrow suit, with them all assembled?”
Greet the knights?
Loic reeled.
“Wait, Your Highness.”
She leveled a skeptical gaze at him.
“You aren’t saying… you’ve no intention of presenting me to them?”
Chill sweat trickled down his spine.
Truth be told, the notion hadn’t crossed his mind.
He’d consented to her year’s residence in the estate and nothing beyond. With no designs on embracing a Grand Duchess in his world, he’d overlooked the protocols.
When the knights had pressed for an introduction, Loic’s focus lay elsewhere—plotting her return to the capital.
I’m truly the most abysmal spouse.
Upon reflection, he’d failed to accord her Grand Duchess honors even once.
A heavy sigh escaped him.
Spotting his remorseful look, the Grand Duchess released a satisfied breath.
“Duke, set up a knights’ gathering amid the training. Will you?”
“…Very well.”
Loic dipped his head in grudging assent.
Perel, visibly easing, chimed in at once.
“Key sessions wrap by midday. Afternoons leave the knights with leisure.”
“Much appreciated, Perel.”
Her approval secured, the Grand Duchess clapped once, as if concluding her errand.
“Oh, something just came up—I must dash.”
Loic tracked her swift departure, lips pressing into a thin line as resolve hardened within.
“Perel.”
Perel started at the duke’s subdued tone.
“Summon every knight to the training grounds without delay.”
“But… the watchtower inspection?”
Loic balled his fist.
“Full armor required. I’ll scrutinize every detail myself. Ensure the grounds gleam. Today, we run all drills.”
“Every one?”
Perel furrowed his brow, questioning the necessity.
“Do you wish to disappoint the Grand Duchess? To hear our order lags behind the marquis’s knights?”
“N-no, never.”
Perel gulped.
“I’ll alert Sir Hedrick to muster them immediately.”
As Perel hastened away, Loic made for his chambers to don training gear.
Their pact demanded he honor her as Grand Duchess.
Distance or no, duties remained.
All at once, my agenda brimmed.
I’d long meant to encounter the knights.
No lavish affair—just a gradual setup.
Yet the duke’s aloofness, skipping even an introduction, chafed at me.
Spur-of-the-moment, I’d seized the chance.
The timeline’s rushed… must make haste.
I enlisted Whitley’s aid for my excursion. Recalling Leon’s prior offer to show me around, I named him escort. At the carriage, though, Leon and Norton awaited.
“Norton?”
Leon beamed as ever, while Norton’s stoic mask hid a faint gloom.
He appeared miffed at my Leon preference.
“You’re not piqued, Norton? I picked Leon for his local knowledge.”
“Piqued? Hardly, I merely…”
Norton paused, then pressed on.
“I know Goldrain well enough to guide you now.”
His resolute face bespoke atonement for past lapses.
“Truly? Then you’re my guide today, Norton.”
I beamed back.
“Handkerchiefs are what I seek. Suggestions?”
Norton pondered briefly before replying with care.
“A tailor could custom-order them… Coutere holds the finest reputation.”
He checked with Leon, who nodded with a grin.
“To Coutere we go.”
Flanked by my steadfast knight duo, I boarded the carriage.
Nestled in Goldrain’s bustling core, Coutere stood as the north’s premier dress shop.
“An honor to assist, Your Grace. Madame Ramondria, at your service.”
Madame Ramondria’s demeanor chilled at first blush.
Her words rang courteous, yet her bearing spoke of weathered trials.
A single sharp look sent her staff scurrying; clearly, she ruled with iron discipline.
As they readied tapes and tools, I forestalled them.
“No gowns today. Handkerchiefs alone.”
“…Handkerchiefs?”
Bewilderment flickered in Madame’s eyes.
“Gifts, in quantity. Anything ready?”
“Assuredly. One moment, please.”
She inclined her head with grace and vanished.
Her promptness belied a lengthy wait.
I’d all but drained the servant’s tea when Madame reemerged, assistants in tow.
A board unfurled upon the table, unveiling an array: lace-trimmed simples, edge-embossed delicacies, vibrant embroidered beauties.
“These for immediate sale?”
“…Idle hours yield them from staff hands.”
Madame replied evenly, after a beat.
That explained the delay.
A Grand Duchess’s abrupt quest for kerchiefs had spurred a frantic roundup, lest they disappoint.
Handkerchiefs, after all, oft bore personal stitches or maidens’ craft.
“Share a preferred motif; we’ll craft swiftly.”
Madame brimmed with assurance.
I pivoted to Norton at my rear.
“Norton, Blenheim Order’s strength?”
“Ninety-nine drill tomorrow. One detachment’s afield.”
Ninety-nine? No legion, yet such numbers?
“Blenheim guards frontiers; our knights swell accordingly.”
Norton clarified amid my astonishment.
Chastened, I faced Madame anew.
“Ninety-nine handkerchiefs—possible in a day?”
Madame’s eyes flew wide in shock.
