Chapter 47
“The Northern News!”
The Grand Duchess’s voice lifted abruptly.
“I’ve come across it already!”
“You have, Your Grace?”
“I particularly liked the piece on the capital’s latest fashion trends.”
Her cheeks colored with astonishment.
“T-that one was mine!”
The Grand Duchess appeared intrigued by how a young lady from a baronial family had taken up journalism.
Cecilia shared the truth candidly: she’d longed for employment, so she’d approached a distant kin who ran a publishing house and secured a position writing pieces for a modest sum.
“Pursuing a passion is truly admirable.”
While the other noblewomen regarded her with bafflement or faint disapproval, the Grand Duchess’s tone rang bright and supportive.
‘At this rate…’
Bolstered by the Grand Duchess’s warmth, Cecilia mustered the courage to voice her long-suppressed request.
“Your Grace, if I may be so bold… might I pen a feature on you?”
The noble girls swiveled toward her, eyes sharpening.
“Cecilia, do you truly intend to turn the Grand Duchess into fodder for your scribblings?”
“To splash a figure of her stature across a rag for the masses—apologize to Her Grace at once!”
In reality, Northern News held no scandalous repute among the nobility, but the vehemence of their outrage jolted Cecilia. She hastened to clarify.
“I was simply captivated by the exquisite gown you’re wearing today, Your Grace. I yearned only to showcase your impeccable style to the public. If I’ve given offense, I offer my deepest regrets.”
“Offended? Hardly.”
The Grand Duchess seemed utterly at ease.
“I’m delighted you hold me in such esteem.”
Cecilia’s expression brightened instantly.
“But in truth…”
The Grand Duchess grew more earnest.
“I suspect Northern News might thrive better with a recipe section.”
Meisel burst into laughter at that.
“Her Grace has a point.”
Her lemon-hued eyes gleamed with sly amusement.
“A periodical for the masses dissecting high fashion and fads? Absurd. Sturdy fare for scullery maids would suit it far more. And given how few of them can even decipher print, that alone would work wonders.”
The noble girls stifled chuckles with effort.
They assumed the Grand Duchess was veiling barbs at Cecilia beneath a veneer of courtesy. Stung and startled, Cecilia felt a pang.
“No, I was entirely earnest.”
The Grand Duchess shook her head briskly.
“I chatted with an innkeeper who told me that in Blenheim, folk pick up cooking solely from their mothers. New recipes rarely cross their paths.”
Noting Cecilia’s lingering bewilderment, she elaborated.
“They rely on swapping tips with neighboring wives—no other guides.”
Cecilia paused, then murmured in sudden understanding, “Ah!”
“That’s why I figured a recipe feature could prove invaluable and draw crowds.”
“Precisely!”
Cecilia inhaled sharply, grasping the brilliance at last.
“Regular new recipes could hook housewives into buying each issue. Trend pieces intrigue, sure, but…”
The Grand Duchess pondered briefly.
“They don’t guarantee steady readership.”
Cecilia’s gaze ignited.
Northern News had been faltering amid slumping circulation and stale material. Rivals abounded, all rehashing the usual fare.
For the Grand Duchess—so newly arrived in the North—to proffer such keen wisdom—
She’s far more than a lovely aristocrat.
Cecilia’s respect deepened genuinely.
“I’ll implement Your Grace’s suggestion without hesitation.”
She declared it firmly, yet the Grand Duchess dismissed the notion with a casual flick of her hand.
“It’s hardly a directive—just an idle musing.”
Cecilia resolved then to consult the publisher, Alchent, come morning—
“If it were up to me, I’d have covered Your Grace’s nuptials.”
Meisel’s lips curled in a one-sided smirk.
“The whole North buzzed with curiosity. No one here witnessed the ceremony, after all.”
The girls blanched.
Meisel had overstepped, unmistakably.
“Her Grace’s gown must have been breathtaking. And the Grand Duke’s attire—I’d love to know what he donned.”
She prattled on until she caught the Grand Duchess’s impassive stare, then feigned a gasp.
“Oh! Right—a proxy affair, wasn’t it? My tongue slipped.”
“Well, it’s merely fact, so no true error.”
The Grand Duchess took a measured sip of tea.
“And truly, what’s wrong with a proxy union? When alliances align, a match can flourish sans romance.”
You’re just a loveless bride.
Meisel’s mouth quirked in triumphant malice—
“The Grand Duke has arrived.”
“……?”
The heavy door flew open, admitting Grand Duke Loic Blenheim into the tearoom.
‘Wait—what?! Why is he here?!’
The figure advancing with poised elegance was none other than the Grand Duke himself.
“Grand Duke?”
His unexpected arrival left her blinking in shock.
As the noble girls scrambled up to curtsy, he acknowledged them with a brief incline of his head.
She started to rise too, but he forestalled her gently.
“No need. Remain seated.”
“What brings you here?”
Composing herself, she shot him a glance loaded with mute panic:
What are you doing here?!
Yet he sidestepped her frantic signal and pivoted away.
“Your first tea gathering, correct? I wanted to ensure all was well.”
His gaze roamed the assembly, flushing their cheeks.
It stood to reason—this was likely their inaugural glimpse of him.
‘Yeah, he’s absurdly striking, isn’t he? Can’t blame you.’
Their stares traced his features, drifting lower… then stalled at his garb.
That’s when it hit her—he sported the ensemble she’d chosen.
‘Nailed it!’
The Grand Duke embodied the romantic-hero look she’d once envisioned draping on her favorite idol, flawlessly.
‘Outshines any K-pop star.’
A crisp white shirt with subtle diagonal accents, layered beneath a trim spring coat—supple lines, impeccable fit.
Save for that initial shirtless encounter, he’d never appeared more captivating.
Lost in admiring his attire, a dreamy smile stealing across her face, he averted his eyes in faint discomfort and addressed the group anew.
“The North can seem daunting to newcomers, so do make her feel at home.”
“Of course.”
“We’ll endeavor to.”
His mild timbre sent them into visible melts.
“Grand Duke…”
Meisel breathed the words softly at her side.
What now?
The raw fervor in her voice drew a sidelong peek—and froze her.
Meisel teetered on the brink of lunging into his embrace.
Why this sudden dramatics?!
Any contact risked a magical flare-up or collapse, spelling catastrophe.
To defuse and enforce space, she eased to her feet.
“Thank you for stopping by, Your Grace.”
Now leave. Pronto!
Her glare intensified; at last, he caught on.
A quiet “Ah,” escaped him as he clasped her hand tenderly.
“……?”
Then—
He pressed a kiss to its back.
Silence hung.
Then—
“Oh my!”
The girls fluttered fans, undone by the intimate flourish.
Why a hand kiss—now?!
Her mind reeled; she hustled to shoo him.
“You must have pressing duties—don’t linger on our account.”
“Then I’ll withdraw.”
With a parting nod, he accepted their curtsies once more and departed.
‘Whew. That was narrow.’
Glancing back, she spied Meisel rooted in place, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Disaster dodged, at least.
The noble girls erupted in squeals, hands to flushed faces.
“Oh my—I never dreamed I’d behold the Grand Duke himself!”
“He’s devastatingly handsome! I nearly swooned!”
“He adores the Duchess so—he shuns society, yet graced her tea!”
Poise shattered; they devolved into giddy admirers.
She couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I thought you’d come for me, but clearly it was the Grand Duke who lured you.”
Peach blushes bloomed as they fluttered denials.
Then—
“Y-Your Grace…”
Cecilia wrung her hands, voice trembling.
“Please—I implore you, might I compose a piece on the Grand Duke’s style?”
“What?”
Laughter rippled through the others.
Save Meisel, who lingered like a forlorn damsel, steeped in silent woe.
In the end, the tea party proved an utter triumph.
