Chapter 11
After that, the two parted ways without any further incident.
As if certain they would meet again, Calyx let Lottie go home without protest.
It felt like a vivid dream. Was that man truly the Calyx Valdea I knew?
That question plagued Lottie like a dull headache for about two days, but after that, she became a bit busy and forgot all about it.
The talks of marriage between Lottie and Andrew had begun to take concrete shape.
<When I return from a busy schedule and gaze at the flickering dawn stars, I am reminded of your sparkling intellect, your delightful wit, and the deep insight contained within them…>
The letter from Andrew that arrived for Lottie was polite and concise, much like the man himself. There were no passionate confessions of love, but she liked it because it wasn’t burdensome.
Not long ago, through Great-Aunt Isabel’s mediation, handwritten letters had reportedly been exchanged between her father and Congressman Thompson—Andrew’s father.
The negotiations seemed to be progressing smoothly, as a bright glow never left the Great-Aunt’s face.
Lottie had been a grandniece who had failed to make a match during both her debut seasons at eighteen and nineteen.
In Matila’s marriage market, failing to receive a proposal for three seasons was practically an implicit death sentence.
Lottie, having lived through a cycle of life, now suspected that “someone’s” cunning intervention had played a part in her failure, but the Great-Aunt did not know this.
To her, it must have felt like it was her own fault as a guardian that a child who was perfect in every way hadn’t received even a modicum of interest.
She might have even felt miserable, wondering how things would have been if her niece-in-law had been alive instead of her old self.
Knowing those feelings, Lottie could not bring herself to ruin the Great-Aunt’s joy.
‘I will get married just like this.’
To be precise, it was her second marriage.
The first marriage, which had met a miserable end, did not exist. She had succeeded in changing her future.
Since she hadn’t swallowed a poisoned love, she wouldn’t lose everything to a husband through marriage. This time, she would draft a thoroughly fair marriage contract, accounting for every single cent.
Lottie looked down at Andrew’s letter and recalled his past life.
They said the devoted husband bought pansies every single day for his wife.
When his wife’s illness worsened and she was confined to the house, he planted pansy seedlings in the garden so densely there was no place to step, all so she could see her favorite flowers whenever she turned her head.
Surrounded by her husband’s colorful affection, the wife must have been happy until the moment she drew her last breath.
Lottie did not expect to receive that same inexhaustible love, like the pansies that were said to bloom year-round on the wife’s grave.
Still, if she were with him, at least she wouldn’t be hurt.
Her life had been so scarred that she worried about what would be taken before what would be given, thinking of misfortune before happiness.
Brushing away the guilt of stealing another woman’s pansy-filled happiness, Lottie folded the letter, placed it in the nightstand drawer, and looked out the window.
When she turned off the light, she saw a single star blinking white and blue.
Coincidentally, it looked just like the shimmering scales of the Contra River.
Around the time the flickering dawn star began to fade.
In a mansion said to be among the three most expensive in Ronvernon’s upper-class district, a man who could not easily sleep woke from a light doze.
He had slept uncomfortably while sitting on the sofa, but he showed no sign of it.
The man walked regally through the empty mansion before the servants had even stirred. Then, alone in his bedroom, he prepared to go out.
- He’s a figure close to the moderates in the party. He hasn’t shown any notable political moves and doesn’t seem to have much ambition, so the families’ leanings won’t clash. It is truly an aristocratic marriage.
A marriage where neither side leaned too heavily and no one was lacking.
The nobles of Matila referred to this as “aristocratic.”
If you don’t want that woman falling into the Crown Prince’s hands, isn’t this the best ending? If you leave her be, she’ll become another man’s woman anyway.
No matter how absolute the Royal Family is, would they try to take a married woman? That’s an old story.
That day, the man thought for the first time that he had chosen a fairly good ally.
He was a man who had a firm grip on the postal business and knew the crude private lives of the nobility inside and out, like a walking gossip rag.
He had thought the man’s ability to use his head was regrettable compared to his information-gathering skills, but that day, he had been spouting nothing but the absolute truth.
- If you really can’t trust it and think it’ll be an obstacle, kill her. It’s common for maidens of that age to die of all sorts of unknown causes.
The man thought it was time to remind himself of his original purpose for approaching that woman.
He wanted to take her away from Padrick. If that woman was beneficial to the Crown Prince in any way, he wanted to ruin it so that she couldn’t be.
If what she possessed were wings, he thought it would be fine to take even those and make them his own power.
There would be no need to go so far as to fabricate a cause of death to break her forever.
If left alone, the woman would marry another man, and that man was the type who would crawl on the ground forever without even knowing they were wings even if she gave them to him, and the Crown Prince would have no choice but to watch like a dog chasing a chicken.
Therefore, he only needed to move his troops as planned to drive out the Queen and the Crown Prince.
- What is it? Are you actually planning to get married? I thought it was just an excuse you used to deceive Luca Brown and the Crown Prince.
He remembered being unable to find an answer to that question for a moment.
To him, marriage was a political tool that had to be kept vacant at all times so it could be used most effectively at the most necessary moment.
That fact would remain an eternal truth until he reclaimed the stolen throne—no, perhaps until the moment of his death.
- If you need an excuse to stay in the Capital without being suspected, go here four days from now. It seems Congressman Vermion is hosting a drive hunt on his private estate. As you know, hunting parties are packed with maidens who come to watch.
They probably came to do some “hunting” of their own. Adding a joke that wasn’t even funny, the ally chuckled.
Nobles who owned hunting grounds near the Capital held hunting parties every year to maintain their social ties.
In particular, unlike other social gatherings, there were no restrictions on participation in hunting parties, so one could join even without an invitation as long as their status was appropriate.
Furthermore, Congressman Vermion was a figure known as a hardliner even within the Cream Party. It meant that he should naturally increase his influence in the Capital, starting with the man who was practically the Crown Prince’s antithesis.
- Congressman Thompson’s son will be attending, so his fiancée will likely make an appearance as well. When the hunt is over, the fiancée will give Thompson a handkerchief; go there and cheer for them. Tell them never to part and to live happily ever after until they die.
He knew what giving a handkerchief meant. Even though he had been away from the Capital for a long time, he laughed at his own brilliance for being so well-acquainted with such intimate customs.
While he lingered in thought, sunlight like shards of glass began to pour through the window.
He frowned for a moment as if pricked sharply, but then slowly smoothed his expression at the thought that it was merely sunlight that could do no harm.
It was sunlight like glass, without deceit or falsehood, merely transparent.
Meeting his own eyes faintly reflected in the window, the man let out a short laugh.
The man standing there was perfectly dressed in hunting attire, looking as if he could jump onto a horse and head for the hunting grounds this very instant.
He pulled the bell cord and instructed the servant to have the carriage ready.
Whatever it was, the hunt would be a success.
With that premonition, Calyx Valdea stepped out the door.
Giving a handkerchief to a man returning from a hunt was a symbolic act that, along with taking his arm, publicly announced an intimate relationship with him.
While the men in hunting attire rode their horses out for the drive hunt, the women gathered in a small cottage prepared at the entrance of the hunting grounds to wait for them.
“There is nothing to be afraid of, Lottie. What is meant to happen will happen.”
Lottie was clutching the handkerchief she had received from Isabel earlier so tightly she might have been wringing a rag, when Isabel, sitting beside her, spoke to her soothingly.
Since it was already an agreed-upon matter, Andrew would gladly accept the handkerchief when Lottie offered it.
Isabel spoke because she thought her grandniece was afraid that Andrew might not follow through with the promised act, but in reality, the grandniece was anxious for a reason she could never have imagined.
‘Is this… right? Truly?’
Everything had been settled between the elders of both families, so what was there to be right or wrong about?
She thought it was ridiculous herself, but she felt as if she were standing right before an irreversible river.
As the time for Andrew’s return drew near, that thought became even clearer.
‘Let’s go out first. My cluttered head will clear up if I get some fresh air.’
Lottie, who felt compelled to walk aimlessly whenever her thoughts were complicated, gave a quick word to Isabel, who was preoccupied talking to a noblewoman, and left the cottage alone.
She paced around a small trail several times, pondering this lukewarm emotion, but sadly, she found no answer. Instead, her feet began to ache.
Lottie lifted the hem of her trailing dress slightly and looked down at her shoes.
Just as she was about to take them off, as if possessed, Lottie felt a gaze watching her from somewhere.
Turning around, she saw a man—no, a boy—hiding behind a lush shrub. No…
‘It’s a… woman in men’s clothing!’
The woman, who looked small as if she had stolen the clothes of her father or an older brother, became flustered and didn’t know what to do when her eyes met Lottie’s directly.
As she tried to run away, she seemingly tripped over her own hem and fell flat in front of Lottie with a faint scream. Lottie was momentarily stunned.
“What on earth is this…?”
“I-I’m sorry!”
The woman, looking like she was wrapped in a bundle, abruptly bowed her head. It was an action a cherished young lady would never do. Lottie realized before long.
“There is someone I absolutely must meet. I won’t cause any trouble, so please, if you could just turn a blind eye and pretend you didn’t see me…”
