Previously
Dolores listens in fury as Adrian professes his love to Angelica, while Resurreccion is badgered by Edwin Shelley into searching for Dolores in the palace. Discovering Dolores standing barefoot on the terrace railing of the Emerald Room, Resurreccion rushes to stop her as she demands that he marry her or watch her jump.
It was no bluff; she meant every word.
‘What point is there in living such a wretched, groveling life again?’
She had wanted to live well, to rub her success in the faces of those who had tormented her, but…
If the only man who could make that possible turned her down, she had no choice but to die.
In that exact heartbeat, Resurreccion lunged forward, seized her waist, and dragged her inside.
He panted savagely, caught in a surge of sudden fury.
“Damn it, can’t you take a joke?! What the hell is inside that head of yours!”
“Haah… a vivid imagination, perhaps?”
“What?!”
Dolores smirked, returning the very words he had thrown at her back at the Lancaster mansion.
‘Lady Dolly. And here I thought you were just a pretty-faced doll, true to your name. What a vivid imagination you have.’
Down below, a commotion rippled through the guests over the sudden fire.
With the guard urgently dispatched to contain the blaze, the party had descended into utter chaos.
Hiding the tremor in her heart, Dolores gave him a radiant smile.
“So, are you finally inclined to strike a deal with me?”
“You’re out of your mind.”
Watching the ‘Beast of Albion’ wear an expression of sheer disgust sent an odd thrill through her chest.
In Dolores’s first life, the ‘Howard Street Fire’ was a famous incident.
It all began when some fool lit a cigarette in a flour mill, letting a single errant spark fly.
Thanks to that, Madame Rouare’s banquet was spectacularly ruined.
‘And it even affected my wedding with Adrian.’
Because of such a massive disaster in the capital, her once-in-a-lifetime wedding was scaled down considerably.
Dolores ended up having the most modest ceremony among all the crown princesses in history.
And there was one more thing.
“Your merchant guild operates out of number 483, doesn’t it? Were you able to protect it?”
Dolores and Resurreccion sat facing each other in the palace’s innermost parlor.
Because all eyes were drawn toward the fire, not a single soul noticed the two of them slipping away.
It was the perfect opportunity to negotiate a contract.
Yet Resurreccion merely glared at her.
She had the nerve to tease him, threaten him, and then try to kill herself right before his eyes?
‘It feels like I’m losing, and that pisses me off.’
He gave a haughty nod.
“Go on, then. Tell me how you found out.”
“Well. As for how I learned the secret of 483 Howard Street…”
Dolores smoothly delivered her prepared excuse.
“My brother was planning to sell the Silberg Fief.”
“…Isn’t that your land? Did you hand it over to him?”
“Why would I ever do that? So in his search for someone who would buy it in secret, he seemed to stumble upon the ‘Sub Rosa’ merchant guild.”
This was not entirely a lie.
James would indeed go on to put up the Silberg Fief as collateral for a quick windfall, secretly pawning the estate through the Sub Rosa guild.
And later, he would beat the ground in bitter regret, but…
‘I shouldn’t dwell on that right now.’
First, she had to appease this grand duke who was burning holes into her with suspicious eyes.
“Rummaging through my brother’s papers wasn’t difficult at all. But guessing that the guild belonged to you was entirely my own deduction.”
“Your reasoning?”
“When I had the local magistrate check the registered owner of 483 Howard Street, the name of a fallen noble family came up.”
“…”
“And tracing that family’s lineage back in time revealed they were once vassals of the ducal house in the distant past.”
In her original life, the magistrate’s office had burned down as well, cutting the investigation into the property’s owner short.
Only after a long time had passed did Dolores finally guess that number 483 might belong to the Grand Duke.
“Hmph…”
Resurreccion stroked his jaw. The cynical glint in his eyes sharpened into keen interest.
Dolores could tell he was finally revising his evaluation of her.
“And the fire? Don’t tell me you hired someone to set it…?”
“Of course not. Do you have any idea how strictly I am monitored at the Rochester estate?”
Dolores was a commodity designated to become the Crown Princess.
Lest any blemish mark this precious commodity, her father kept a relentlessly watchful eye on her.
To the point where even a simple letter of cordial regards was subjected to censorship.
“…How I learned of the fire is something I will tell you at the conclusion of our deal.”
“Lady Dolly…”
“Your Highness, I need a card to protect myself, too.”
“…”
“Besides, it’s not as though Your Highness stands to lose anything by my keeping it to myself, does it?”
Still smiling, Dolores tilted her head.
Had she not warned him, this man would have suffered a devastating blow for years to come.
Given that it was an illicit venture, recovering from the disaster would not have been easy.
“…So. You really want to wreck your engagement with Adrian?”
Bullseye. Dolores’s eyes flashed.
He had finally taken the bait.
“Yes. And I ask that you provide me refuge in the position of Grand Duchess for just one year.”
“…”
“There is no need for any alimony. We can simply part ways cleanly.”
Resurreccion crossed his arms and fell into silent contemplation.
Then, he posed an unexpected question.
“Did you happen to overhear what they were doing in the Ruby Room?”
“…”
“You heard.”
Dolores’s triumphant expression froze.
“…Yes, I heard. And I know who she is.”
“Someone you know?”
“My cousin. Angelica Rochester.”
“Ah. Right. That weasel-faced thing?”
“…”
A muscle in Dolores’s cheek twitched faintly.
A weasel. To compare her to a sly, thieving little beast that fawned while stealing livestock…
‘A remarkably fitting analogy, though.’
Having lost both parents early, Angelica had relied entirely upon the hospitality of the Marquisate of Rochester.
She had nibbled away at their goodwill and allowance bit by bit, until she finally crossed the line.
Still, it would hardly be elegant to openly delight in such petty slander, so Dolores looked away, feigning ignorance.
“Right… Having your own cousin as my brother’s mistress would certainly sour anyone on the idea of marriage.”
“Please mind your language…”
“Drop it, will you, Lady Dolly? Well, fine.”
Resurreccion raised both hands in surrender.
“Let’s do it. That one-year marriage or whatever.”
“Your Highness!”
“You’d better brace yourself, though.”
His golden eyes gleamed fiercely.
The feral grin stretching across his face made him look like a black beast about to tear into fresh meat.
“In exchange for shielding your neck for a year, I intend to bleed you dry.”
“…Be my guest.”
Dolores countered with an equally radiant smile.
Bleed her dry, would he?
It made no difference to her, seeing as she fully intended to exploit the power of the grand ducal house whenever the opportunity arose.
‘I must hurry and teach a lesson to every single person indebted to me.’
The Marquisate of Rochester, who had drained her dry.
Madame Rouare, who had forced her to her knees despite not even being her mother-in-law.
Her husband, Adrian, who had recklessly indulged his filth.
‘And Angelica.’
The rotten girl who had shamelessly betrayed her elder cousin’s kindness from the very start.
‘I am grateful she took that piece of garbage off my hands, but still.’
Angelica would have to shed tears of blood.
At least as many tears as Dolores had cried while raising that woman’s son in her place.
‘And once this is all over…’
Dolores Rochester intended to live freely.
Forever.
Before long, the clamor outside began to subside.
And right on cue, the two of them finalized the contract.
Beneath the terms, they affixed their signatures in the name of God.
Though both were atheists, the moment remained solemn.
“Then the deal is done.”
“Very well, Your Highness.”
“We should head out now. No sense in stirring up unnecessary misunderstandings so soon, right?”
“Quite right.”
Yet before stepping outside, Dolores turned back with a playful smile.
“Ah. There is one more condition I would like to add, Your Highness.”
“Add what to this?”
“Do not fall in love with me.”
Resurreccion scoffed in utter disbelief at her teasing remark.
“Lady Rochester. I know you’re a looker, but aren’t you being a bit overly confident?”
“Yes, that is precisely what all the other men said.”
Dolores offered a tender smile.
It was the very smile other men had showered her with jewels just to catch a glimpse of.
“And without exception, every single one of them failed.”
“The Porcelain Doll certainly dreams big, Dolly.”
Resurreccion’s scornful scoff only served to put Dolores further at ease.
‘Indeed, after suffering through men for twenty years, I’m sick of them all.’
The fact that he looked down on her and steered clear of women made the Grand Duke all the more trustworthy.
‘Rumors even circulated that he was sterile.’
In the Empire, any man who remained unwed or lacked even a single mistress was subjected to endless dishonor.
Yet Resurreccion had never married in her previous life, right to the very end.
Seeing as he never kept company with a single woman, the rumors about his impotence were likely true.
‘Which means matters in the bedroom will be simple and clean.’
An alliance between an impotent man and a barren woman.
How absolutely perfect.
When Resurreccion stepped outside the imperial palace, the fire was still being fought.
The building at 483 Howard Street was surely reduced to ash by now.
Just then, Edwin spotted him and came running over in a breathless panic.
“Your Highness! Your Highness, are you all right?!”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You were nowhere to be found, so I was worried…!”
Edwin stole a glance toward the fire and lowered his voice.
“By the way, isn’t this terribly strange? How on earth did Lady Rochester know?”
“Speaking of Lady Rochester.”
“Yes, yes?!”
“I’ve decided to marry Dolores Rochester. As soon as possible.”
“…What?”
“Bring the marriage registry at once. It’s a nuisance, so let’s get it over with quickly.”
“Pardon? What?! H-Hold on a second?!”