Translator: Nox

Chapter 16

The knight had certainly left a favorable impression, and the evening’s aura was pleasant enough. Yet, Classie couldn’t shake the feeling that her conversation with Dernick had overshadowed her interaction with the knight. She pondered whether such a development was actually a cause for celebration.

Even upon returning to her quarters, the dilemma remained unsolved. The only thing she realized as she reached for the handle was that she had completely lost track of the wilted bouquet.

However, all internal debate vanished as soon as the door swung open.

Merran was perched on the drawing room sofa, her arms pulled tight across her chest as she let out a sharp, indignant huff.

“What brings you here?”

Classie glanced at the clock on the wall, her brow furrowing in confusion. Anna, the maid who had trailed in behind her, was quick to explain the situation.

“Her Ladyship arrived late this evening, insisting she had urgent business with you. When she discovered you were out, she simply refused to leave.”

While the outer sitting room remained accessible, Classie was meticulous about locking her private chambers. Consequently, Merran had been forced to wait in the common area, stewing in her own impatience.

“It is past the hour for visitors. You ought to be in bed,” Classie remarked with a tone of maternal correction as she moved toward her bedroom.

“Where have you been?” Merran demanded, bypassing the lecture entirely.

“My goodness, Lady Merran,” Anna chimed in with a playful lilt. “You are becoming more formidable than the Madam herself!”

The joke fell flat in the heavy silence.

Classie shed her outer layer, handing the garment to Anna with a detached expression. “I required some air. Our earlier disagreement left me without an appetite, so I went to find a meal.”

“So you did eat, then.”

“And who was your companion?”

Anna held up a selection of nightwear and a robe, looking for a cue. Classie gestured toward the robe, and the maid beat a hasty retreat into the washroom to avoid the escalating friction.

“You haven’t answered me,” Merran pressed, closing the distance between them. “Who did you dine with?”

Classie remained intentionally vague.

“Was it Sir Kishin?” Merran’s voice turned piercing as she reached out to pluck a stray petal from Classie’s sleeve—a remnant of the ruined flowers.

Classie felt a surge of private annoyance. If only her niece applied that keen observation to her studies instead of sabotaging her aunt’s marital prospects. As she pulled off her gloves, a sudden stroke of inspiration hit her.

“I was with Dernick.”

It was a strategic manipulation of the facts.

Knowing that Merran’s primary objective was to derail her romantic life, Classie decided to pivot. By naming Dernick, she could redirect the girl’s relentless focus. Besides, the statement was technically accurate.

“Sir Dernick?” Merran sounded skeptical, the answer clearly catching her off guard.

Classie took the petal from her niece and set it carefully on her writing desk. “Indeed. I went to return the flowers and happened to cross paths with him.”

She took a quiet satisfaction in the fact that this, too, was the truth.

Merran, however, wasn’t ready to let it go. “You’re making this up, aren’t you, Auntie? Even if you met by chance, there’s no reason for the two of you to share a meal.”

“Actually, we’ve dined together twice now.”

For the first time, Classie began to understand why Merran took such delight in being a nuisance. There was a genuine thrill in watching the usually composed girl look so utterly bewildered.

“A second time? How did that even happen?”

Classie nearly let the full details slip, but caught herself just in time. She knew Merran was far too perceptive; giving away too much would only invite suspicion. Besides, she usually resented these interrogations.

“Must I provide a full report of my movements to you?”

She adopted her usual cold, dismissive tone. Merran’s eyes narrowed into slits.

“Well, no… but you are far too trusting for your own good.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Classie countered. “One moment you tell everyone I’m a seasoned flirt, and the next you treat me like a child. Your inconsistency is absurd.”

“I’m acting out of concern! I look at you and see an incompetent mother figure!”

From the bathroom, the sound of Anna knocking broke the tension. “Shall I prepare the bath salts, my lady?”

“Dernick views my eldest sister as his savior,” Classie added, aiming to solidify her story. “That was the topic of our discussion.”

Merran’s expression soured. “He mentioned the same thing to me.”

“Is that so? Then there is no doubt. I wonder why I was kept in the dark. Did my sister never speak of him to you?”

The visible irritation on Merran’s face was almost enough to make Classie whistle a happy tune.

“I see. He also expressed an interest in her personal effects.”

“Her keepsakes?”

“Yes. I informed him that you were the one holding most of them.”

Classie continued to sprinkle in positive remarks about Dernick, carefully crafting the illusion of a budding romance. What had started as a defensive maneuver had transformed into a delightful game.

The following morning, around eleven, a messenger arrived for Merran. It was a note from Dernick requesting her presence for lunch to discuss an important matter.

Under normal circumstances, Merran would have been coy. She was well aware of her own magnetism and knew that playing hard to get only increased a man’s fervor.

But today, she agreed instantly.

“Where is the location?” she asked.

Classie’s calculated chatter from the night before had done its work perfectly.

Once the arrangements were finalized, Merran marched into Classie’s room to gloat.

“Auntie, Sir Dernick has requested my company for lunch. He sent a messenger specifically for me.”

Classie, reclining on the sofa with a book, pulled the volume over her face to hide her growing smirk.

“Oh? I imagine it concerns the keepsakes.”

She made sure her voice sounded a bit too loud, a bit too forced.

“Most likely. It seems you’ll be dining alone today.”

With a triumphant air, Merran swept out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Classie tossed the book aside and collapsed into a fit of silent, rolling laughter. It had worked flawlessly. Merran’s preoccupation with Kishin had evaporated instantly. She just had to maintain the charade.

She thought back on the years of frustration she had endured. After the dark rumors regarding her sister’s death had ruined her reputation, no noble family wanted a formal alliance with the Kalashi house.

While the heads of families stayed away, a few bold young men had still tried to court her. None of those pursuits would have ended in a proper marriage, but Classie never even got the chance to find out. Every single suitor had been intercepted by Merran.

The girl was a chameleon. She used a radiant smile on the shallow ones, played the victim for the compassionate ones, and used her wit to charm the intellectuals. She never missed her target.

Classie didn’t intend to become a permanent saboteur, but she felt she was owed at least a few rounds of revenge.

Checking the time, she realized the meeting was approaching. Caught up in the excitement, she grabbed her accessories and hurried down the stairs. Out in the garden, the carriage was already being brought around.

“Will you be joining us, my lady?” the driver asked.

“I am. I don’t feel right letting her go unescorted,” Classie lied smoothly, climbing into the vehicle before anyone could object.

She felt a brief pang of doubt. Her feigned interest in Dernick had served its purpose, but pushing the joke further felt risky. Merran was, after all, the undisputed expert at winning people over.

Classie had once been a social creature, but years of isolation in her hometown had left her rusty. She had a tight-knit circle, but she lacked the predatory grace required for high-society games. Could she really compete with a prodigy like Merran?

That uncertainty vanished the moment Merran entered the carriage and froze in sheer shock.

“Auntie? What are you doing here?!”

Classie realized then that she could certainly handle this. After all, she was the one who had raised the girl.

“I am your chaperone,” Classie said with a sugary sweet smile. “I couldn’t possibly let you meet a man of his reputation without me. It’s for your own protection. Let’s be on our way.”

As Merran looked on in horror, Classie simply held the door open and patted the velvet cushion beside her.

“Don’t just stand there. It’s freezing—get in.”