Previously
Resurreccion confronts Adrian and the Emperor, formally seeking permission to marry Dolores, which the Emperor grants on the condition that they produce a child.
The garden of the Marquis of Rochester boasted a magnificent orangerie.
Thanks to the enclosure, small fruit trees and flowers flourished inside with vibrant vigor, even in the chill of April.
Resurreccion cast his gaze about the interior, speaking with light derision.
“To think a proposal would finally gain me entry to the fortress of the marquisate.”
“Please, look around to your heart’s content.”
Offering an easy reply, Dolores took stock of their surroundings.
The marquisate’s servants lingered near the perimeter, but none dared to approach.
‘Keeping company with a beast does have its perks.’
Choosing him as a contractual partner had indeed been an excellent decision.
Dolores looked up at Resurreccion and gave a small nod.
“Your timing was impeccable. Though it was so sudden, it startled me.”
“Tsk. How was I to know that fellow would storm off in the middle of a meal?”
Resurreccion let out a dry sigh.
Even he had not anticipated Adrian acting with quite such reckless impulse.
“It took some doing to badger the old man.”
“Even taking that into account, you arrived very swiftly.”
Exchanging casual pleasantries aloud, Dolores picked up a stray, slender branch from the ground.
She then set its tip to the earthen floor and began to write.
Resurreccion had braved the hazards to extract the imperial permission for their marriage.
Now it was Dolores’s turn to deliver her part of the bargain.
‘Since I promised to help him claim the Aleister Fief….’
Resurreccion looked down at the words, his face devoid of expression.
Dolores curled her lips into a faint smile and framed her question obliquely.
“When we depart for our honeymoon, wouldn’t somewhere far away be preferable for a change?”
“…Why somewhere far, of all places? There should be plenty of destinations far easier to reach.”
“Oh, my. When else would I ever see the empire’s less celebrated corners if not on an occasion like this?”
“…”
“Of course, a journey straight to the coast sounds lovely as well… but it would be far better to visit such places properly later on. Preferably when fewer eyes are watching.”
“Hmm….”
Bedford, Islington, and Lindinis.
All three were territories annexed by the empire relatively recently.
However, they lay in the eastern provinces, a considerable distance from the coastal Aleister Fief.
Yet what would happen if he moved to seize lands adjacent to Aleister right away?
‘The Grand Duke’s hidden intentions would be laid bare.’
No matter how strangely indulgent the Emperor was toward his second son, and no matter how shallow Adrian was…
‘It would take only a whisper from the right person.’
Dolores wiped away the names of the three regions with her foot.
‘He ended up taking all three of those territories in the future anyway, so it must be a plan he has already weighed.’
This was merely a demonstration to prove she was a far sharper piece on the board than he might have assumed.
As if to confirm it, Resurreccion quietly crossed his arms, fixing her with an intent stare.
She returned his gaze with a serene smile.
“If possible, I would prefer somewhere known for delicious fare. Perhaps a place famous for its seasonal harvests.”
She was referring to Lindinis, renowned for its fertile soil and prosperous agriculture.
Resurreccion let out a breath that was half a chuckle.
“Fretting over food when you eat like a bird.”
“I appreciate fine cuisine as much as anyone. I simply refrain from overindulgence.”
“Ha, fine. We can discuss the finer details later.”
It meant the matter was too perilous to pursue under the watchful eyes of their current surroundings.
With the marquisate and Adrian bound to be seething by now, it was indeed time to return.
Yet as they stepped outside the orangerie, Resurreccion muttered as if an afterthought had struck him.
“Ah, that reminds me.”
“Is something the matter?”
“I brought a courtship gift, but it slipped my mind.”
“A gift…? From Your Highness?”
“I could hardly arrive empty-handed.”
At that moment, the Grand Duke’s attendant, who had been waiting outdoors, came hurrying toward them.
Catching sight of the bouquet cradled in the attendant’s arms, Dolores let out an involuntary breath of admiration.
“Are these… Brillant Roses?”
Brillant Roses were a variety whose white petals were brushed with delicate pale pink at the edges.
Yet under bright light, those petals seemed to shimmer with fine flecks of gold dust.
‘These roses can only be found within the imperial palace….’
Resurreccion cast a nonchalant sidelong glance at Dolores.
“What? You used to lose your mind over those flowers.”
“Please mind your language to suit your station.”
Dolores chided him as she looked down at the bouquet.
Even so, he was not wrong.
In her youth, when she had visited the imperial palace without a care in the world, the mere sight of these blossoms had filled her with boundless joy.
…Though by the time she became Empress, she had grown utterly numb to them.
‘Did I ever tell the Grand Duke that I was fond of them, though?’
Before the thought could linger, Dolores gave a light shrug.
Well, contractual arrangement or not, a suitor could hardly come without a gesture of courtship.
Unable to arrive empty-handed, he had likely just plucked the most expensive-looking rose bush up by its roots.
The uproar in the marquisate wound down into a storm of shouting, threats, and vicious bickering.
When the two returned from the orangerie, it felt like nothing short of a miracle that bloodshed had been avoided.
Regardless, the Emperor’s decree had already been handed down.
High society buzzed like a swarm of locusts at the sensational news.
After all, no scandal could be quite as salacious as ‘the younger brother stealing the elder brother’s woman.’
In the end, the date set for the state wedding was reassigned to celebrate the union of the Grand Duke and Dolores.
“What utter madness is this?!”
Ever since the decree was announced, the Marquis had not ceased his bellowing.
“To become that mongrel’s Grand Duchess instead of Empress! You might as well couple with a wild beast!”
“That mongrel’s father happens to be the Emperor. Speaking in such a manner constitutes imperial treason, Father.”
James’s eyes flashed with venomous menace.
“Have you lost your mind, Dolores? How dare you talk back to Father like that!”
“…Talk back? It is you who goes too far with your words, Brother.”
“When you are dragging this entire family to ruin, I could say far worse!”
Dolores curled her lips into a cold, coy smile.
‘And who was it that truly ruined this house?’
It was this exalted eldest son who had secretly sold off the Silberg Fief, lost his senses over women, and drowned the family in gambling debts.
Unable to stomach any more, Dolores set down her teacup.
“I have nothing further to say to either of you.”
“Dolores…!”
“I shall see to the wedding preparations, so please come to my quarters if there is anything to discuss.”
Under the Emperor’s mandate, the arrangements for the ceremony were already underway.
No amount of badgering from these men could alter anything now.
‘Just endure a little longer.’
Returning to her room, Dolores first organized the major events due to unfold in the near future.
‘The state wedding has been avoided at this rate, so cross that out….’
‘The Unrest in Anglesey’ was somewhat ambiguous.
The turmoil that broke out in Anglesey, near the capital, had resolved itself neatly before either the Grand Duke or the imperial family could intervene.
‘I shall simply keep that one in mind.’
Dolores moved on to the third entry: ‘The Rise of the Gaming Houses.’
Most noblemen were hopelessly consumed by gambling.
‘However, it was not long before an entirely different caliber of den appeared, turning everything upside down.’
And ironically, the one who suffered the greatest toll from it had been Dolores.
All on account of her brother, James, of course.
“…I will not let it happen that way this time.”
Just then, hurried, fluttering footsteps sounded outside.
Along with a frail, grating voice she had no desire to hear.
“Sister Dolores! What on earth is going on?”
It was Angelica, of course.
As part of a collateral branch, she did not reside in the main residence of the marquisate but in a small annex some distance away, which explained why the news had reached her late.
“A broken engagement…! How could you do such a thing?”
“…”
“What will you do after bringing such sorrow to His Highness the Crown Prince? Why are you acting like this lately?”
Angelica’s eyes brimmed with sorrowful tears.
There had been a time when seeing her orphaned cousin make such a face tore at Dolores’s heart.
‘Because I, too, lost my mother at a tender age.’
Now, however, Dolores could clearly see the glint of raw ambition lurking behind those eyes.
“Angelica. I know what you did.”
“…Pardon?”
“In the Ruby Room.”
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
“Everyone here knows by now.”
Only then did Angelica’s face flush a burning crimson.
Evidently, she still retained enough sense to feel mortified at the exposure of her premarital affair.
“And stop pretending this is out of concern for Prince Adrian. He is hardly worth the trouble.”
“Sister—!”
“For the record, do not harbor the delusion that you will become Empress just because I am not.”
“…!”
“And abandon any foolish hope that my father will truly support you, either.”
It was, perhaps, meddling where she did not need to.
Dolores harbored enough hatred to match the wrongs done to her, but people were funny creatures—looking at someone face-to-face had a way of dulling the edge.
‘And thinking back on it now….’
Dolores suspected Adrian had never truly loved Angelica in the first place.
‘If he had loved her, he would have found a way to make her Empress.’
No doubt the role of ‘the mistress tormented by a wicked Empress’ had seemed terribly endearing to him.
Yet not enough to weather the scorn of the world for her sake.
Angelica clenched her fists tight, trembling violently.
Her angelic, innocent countenance burned scarlet with fury.
And the voice that seeped through her gritted teeth teemed with raw malice.
“…Ha. The moniker of ‘porcelain doll’ suits you entirely too well, Sister.”
“What?”
“It is because your head is utterly hollow that you can speak so lightly.”