Chapter 11
11.
“Right now? Do I have a visitor?”
Lobelin tilted her head at Sarah’s words.
In Lobelin’s memory, she had no particular appointments scheduled for today.
The only people who might drop by without an appointment were Cornelia or Brian, and if it were them, Sarah wouldn’t be looking so flustered.
“Oh, it’s not that… I think you’ll have to see for yourself, My Lady!”
What was going on? Lobelin set down the book she had been reading and stepped out into the drawing room.
There stood a slender, immaculately dressed man accompanied by several assistants.
“I offer my greetings to the young lady of the Dines Viscounty.”
“Yes, and who might you be?”
“Ah, my apologies for the late introduction. I am Jonathan Daphne, the head designer of Daphne Boutique. It is an honor to be crafting a dress for you today, My Lady.”
“Pardon? A dress for me?”
Lobelin asked back, disbelief coloring her voice at Jonathan’s smooth words.
Wait, what was this all of a sudden?
“I think there’s been a mistake. I never ordered a dress.”
“Oh, my. It must have been a special surprise from the Count.”
“Excuse me? What do you mean by that…?”
Despite her claim that she hadn’t ordered anything, Jonathan simply offered a broad, toothy grin.
To the bewildered Lobelin, Jonathan held out a letter.
“A certain Count in Newerie has placed a special order. As you may know, our regular bookings are completely full, so a special order requires a significant additional fee…”
Jonathan boasted proudly about how much money the foreign noble had spent.
Having made a massive sale, it was only natural that he was in high spirits.
However, after checking the letter, Lobelin was beyond dumbfounded.
[ On second thought, your dress that day was truly terrible. Is that why you were ignored by that black-haired woman? I’m sending some new clothes, so wear them with gratitude.
— From a nameless Count in Newerie ]
“Ugh, this man is seriously…!”
Lobelin instantly crumpled the paper and hurled it away.
For a moment, Jonathan wore a wounded expression, but she didn’t notice.
In Lobelin’s mind, the image of Ian pointing his finger and criticizing her outfit was playing on a loop.
‘Get rid of that pathetic dress.’
Even if they weren’t from Daphne, Lobelin’s dresses were ordered from quite reputable boutiques.
And yet, he called her a beggar!
‘And I told him Natalie has green hair!’
In the midst of it all, he actually remembered her lie about being a Count from Newerie.
How could a single short letter contain so many ridiculous points?
While Lobelin was busy being flabbergasted, Jonathan’s assistants approached her with measuring tapes.
“Oh, w-wait. Don’t touch me.”
“Lady Dines, we must take your measurements to tailor the dresses.”
Lobelin resisted, but the people from Daphne—who had already been paid double the price of the dresses—were equally persistent.
In the end, it was only after a long session of being measured here and there that Lobelin was released, looking half-dazed.
But the arduous path toward the dresses had only just begun.
Jonathan spread out fabrics and notions across the drawing room table with a flourish.
“These are the colors trending this year. Since there are six dresses in total, please feel free to choose plenty of what you like.”
“…Wait. What? Six dresses?”
“Yes! Six dresses!”
Jonathan replied with a bright smile.
Even daughters of Great Ducal Houses barely commissioned one or two dresses a year, yet six at once!
He was simply beaming at the enormous revenue.
However, as Jonathan’s face brightened, Lobelin’s expression grew increasingly shadowed with distress.
To make a single dress, one had to select the fabric and then pick out the matching lace, buttons, and other trimmings—the process usually took an entire day.
And he wanted her to do that six times?
‘Someone, please save me!’
‘I wonder if she’s meeting that designer again today.’
A few days later, while handling his duties, Ian glanced at the clock and thought.
After returning from the coffee house, Ian had immediately sent someone to Daphne through Paula, his nanny and the head maid of the Crown Prince’s Palace.
‘When I ordered six dresses, the designer looked ready to kiss this old woman… At any rate, they said the production will take several weeks.’
Ian smiled with satisfaction, imagining Lobelin screaming while buried under piles of fabric.
He had hated seeing a woman who talked back to him so readily being struck dumb by that wicked black-haired woman’s remarks.
It was also a punishment for Lobelin, who continued to deny their night together to the very end.
‘Since it takes half a day just to fit one, she won’t be able to budge for a while.’
His plan was to keep her feet tied down like this before dropping by unexpectedly to wring a confession out of her.
But first, he had to finish the task at hand.
“Your Highness, I have brought the documents you requested.”
“Come in.”
Right on cue, Brian entered the room carrying a stack of files.
The documents Ian had secretly ordered were all related to the bidding for the Eight Hills timber distribution rights.
“But why are you suddenly looking for files on a matter that’s already been nearly decided?”
“I intend to see if there’s anything suspicious regarding Count Preston’s Family.”
“Pardon?”
“Preston is close with Wighill, isn’t he? It’s possible the Empress’s influence was involved in the bidding process.”
Ian peered seriously at the documents, even wearing glasses, which he rarely did.
Brian tilted his head at this side of Ian he had never seen before.
Until now, Ian had kept a low profile and avoided a direct confrontation with the Empress.
Since the throne would naturally become his anyway, he had judged it unnecessary to waste energy on such draining matters.
Yet here he was, taking action and even mentioning the Empress’s cousin, Count Wighill.
‘Well, since the other side is openly picking a fight, he can’t just sit idly by.’
Ian and Brian were certain that the Empress was behind the recent carriage accident.
It was likely an attempt to check Ian by harming Cornelia.
Since the Empress had made her move, it was only right to apply pressure in return, so Brian chose to view Ian’s change in attitude positively.
Ian handed a document to Brian, who had moved to his side.
“Look at this, Duke. Doesn’t the content seem strange?”
“There is certainly a problem here.”
It was exactly as Ian had suspected.
The source of the funds submitted by Count Preston’s Family was unclear.
The amount was absurdly high by any standard, yet the bidding process had proceeded without any explanation being required.
“Someone clearly turned a blind eye in the middle.”
“An inspection would likely turn up several issues.”
“That is exactly what we want. Move on this immediately.”
Brian nodded and rose from his seat.
As he gathered the papers, Brian spoke casually, as if a thought had just occurred to him.
“It’s a shame for Daphne Boutique, though. Rumor has it the Preston young lady ordered three dresses, but it looks like they’ll all have to be canceled.”
“I heard it’s a popular place. A vacancy like that will be filled in no time.”
“You’re well-informed. I didn’t think you were interested in such things.”
“I’m aware of the talk in social circles.”
Ian shrugged.
Brian looked at him with slight surprise for a moment but soon accepted Ian’s words.
After all, the fame of Daphne Boutique was truly remarkable.
“I suppose it is quite impressive how a male designer achieved such success.”
Tuk.
At Brian’s final remark, Ian dropped his pen.
The pen rolled across the desk, but Ian didn’t even think to catch it.
“…The designer at Daphne Boutique was a man?”
“You didn’t know? That was the talk of the social season for quite some time.”
Since dresses were custom-made, noblewomen were usually reluctant to show their bodies to a male designer.
Thus, men usually went into tailoring for gentlemen, but Jonathan Daphne was famous for breaking that taboo.
“I heard he has an incredible professional spirit and knows how to put one’s mind at ease through conversation. They say you don’t even have time to feel uncomfortable.”
Brian said with a chuckle.
However, Ian was in no mood to laugh.
‘So. I sent a man to that woman’s house? By my own hand?’
Even as he discussed the inspection of the Prestons with Brian, a different scene kept replaying in Ian’s head.
The thought of a suspicious man laughing and touching Lobelin without restraint made his stomach twist.
“Your Highness? Is something the matter?”
“…It’s nothing. Let’s continue.”
Brian asked, noticing the strange vibe, but Ian turned his gaze back to the documents.
For now, he would deal with the Prestons, and then he intended to do something about that designer later.
He wasn’t particularly fond of leaving Lobelin in a man’s hands.
‘…I suppose I don’t need to ask His Highness about what happened.’
Meanwhile, as he watched Ian enthusiastically discuss the disposal of Count Preston, Brian fell into his own thoughts for a moment.
Ever since he had seen Ian and Lobelin collapsed together in the drawing room that day, Brian’s mind had been troubled.
‘It doesn’t seem like they’ve met again since then.’
After all, Cornelia was one thing, but there was no reason for Ian to meet Lobelin, the daughter of a mere Viscounty.
He felt a bit foolish for having been anxious that Ian might have taken a liking to Lobelin.
But he did not yet know.
That the biggest reason Ian was currently digging into Count Preston’s corruption was Lobelin.
