"The tea has a lovely aroma."
The elderly gentleman, owner of the largest club in the Kingdom of Brit and a member of the Brit royal family, offered the tea with a friendly face. Edgar took the cup and sipped the tea. A stubbornness lingered in the bitter tea fragrance.
"It's a precious tea. I've brought it out especially for you. So drink it quietly and go back."
Henry, as if having nothing more to say, put his nose to the teacup and looked away. Beyond the front window, green lawn courts were visible. People in dazzling white clothes were playing a match.
"See for yourself and judge,"
Edgar said, putting down the cup.
"My position remains unchanged."
Edgar had requested approval for Olivia Blanchett's use of the club a few days prior.
He needed a place to practice for the tournament in a month, away from the eyes of reporters. Marquess Henry McDowell, the owner of this place, had refused.
"No matter how much the world changes, I won't see a woman fluttering her skirts in my club."
The reason was that this club, boasting a long tradition and history, was an exclusive men's club with only a small number of upper-class members. An extremely exclusive and old-fashioned anachronistic stubbornness.
"You'll change your mind if you see her."
"Princess Anne Boleyn will win anyway. Why bother with such troublesome things?"
The predetermined winner every year diminished the excitement of watching the games, and as a result, women's tennis matches were miserably unpopular compared to men's matches, where illegal gambling was rampant to predict the winner.
Only Princess Anne Boleyn's friends and nobles who wanted to save her face were barely filling the seats. In short, it was a deficit.
"Have you finished your tea?"
"If the Princess doesn't win,"
Edgar's low voice gained strength. Henry withdrew his gaze from the window.
"Then will you allow it?"
"There have been many players more skilled than Anne. They all lost to her status."
"She is not Brit."
"......"
"She has no reason to be mindful of the Princess."
Edgar did not miss the slight agitation in the old eyes.
"She will bring about a change in this tournament."
The golden eyes, which had been filled with the boredom of old age, were gradually filled with a different light.
"That's the beauty of sports."
Edgar pulled up the corners of his lips. Henry's eyes changed to those of a gambler.
Henry, who had inherited the blood of the Dumblein royal family, who was crazy about close games, was excited.
Even at the moment of his death, he was the kind of person who would open his eyes wide and make sure his player won before closing them. So he couldn't help but be tempted.
The gazes that met as if exploring each other ended with Henry's hearty laugh.
If Duke Lancelot was like a raccoon, what would this guy, his son, be like...?
The sunlight that shone into the office fell on the shoulders of the young man, who was beautifully shining with confidence. His own aging figure was superimposed on the dazzling youth, like the peak of midday.
Since his weakness had been exploited, surrender was the natural course. He was also very curious about the new rival who would oppose the Princess of Brit.
Of course, he knew Edgar's intentions. He must be doing this because he was aiming for something.
Whatever his hidden intentions, he'd rather see a skirted player in the club than watch Princess Anne Boleyn win for the seventh year in a row.
"You fox."
Henry smiled, stretching the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
"I knew you'd say that, so I called you here."
Edgar also responded with a smile.
"Oh my!"
Olivia, who was pressing her face against the carriage window as if her forehead would touch it, exclaimed.
As they crossed the lawn, which was free of even a single weed, a magnificent building filled her vision. Because of the ivy that covered the red walls, it was also all green.
Suppressing the urge to jump out immediately, she looked around through the window, and in the distance, she saw Edgar walking briskly.
Anne straightened Olivia's clothes. While she was putting the boater hat on straight and smoothing out the skirt wrinkles, the coachman opened the carriage door.
"Did you wait long?"
Edgar asked, taking Olivia's hand.
"I just arrived."
Olivia was wearing a white blouse and a white flared skirt. She was also wearing white lace socks and slightly cream-colored satin shoes.
"Don't be nervous, just relax. Just do as you always do."
Edgar looked down at Olivia and smiled. Olivia nodded slightly and followed Edgar into the club.
Curious and unpleasant gazes flew sharply. Edgar told her not to be nervous, but she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in such hostility.
But that was only for a moment, as Olivia's blue eyes were busy moving around the dazzling interior.
"Save the admiration for later. Come this way."
Edgar chuckled and took Olivia outside. At the end of the long corridor, the sea was visible beyond the lawn court.
"Wow! It's really beautiful."
Olivia's mouth opened wide. The sea breeze swept across the lawn. In the distance, white boats tied to the yacht marina swayed in the calm waves.
"We'll ride the yacht next time. Today, let's show off your skills."
Olivia, who had barely taken her eyes off the sea, looked up at the man and asked.
"There's a yacht too?"
It was nice to see her round eyes blinking at him.
"Yohan has one too. Hasn't he ever taken you on it?"
Olivia's gaze turned to the stairs.
"He's... busy."
The sunlight pooled on the woman's white nape as she carefully walked down. At that moment, a strong impulse arose to ask why Yohan had sent the letter.
They were clearly not a couple who were on good terms. The woman knew almost nothing about Yohan. As the rumors of the world said, Yohan ignored his wife's existence. On the other hand, Olivia...
The woman did not hide her affection for her husband.
The sudden news of her ex-husband's engagement. An international letter sent to Rondos by a maid. And Yohan's letter.
What it implied was clear.
Olivia Blanchett's love had not yet ended.
The hot wind of late spring wrapped unpleasantly around Edgar's cheek. Summer was already approaching.
"Is this the lady?"
"This is Miss Olivia Blanchett."
Edgar introduced Olivia to Henry. The club's president, key executives, and the general manager were also present.
"Hello. It's an honor to meet you."
Olivia, who was standing in front of people, was slightly nervous. The paradise-like scenery was no longer in her eyes.
Henry observed the woman in front of him with a calm gaze.
She looked solid, but her slender wrists and ankles seemed so fragile that they would fly away in the wind.
But from her clear face, the vitality unique to youth, like Edgar's, was strongly exuded like a deep green forest.
In terms of appearance, she's not inferior to Princess Anne Boleyn. Pass.
A divorced illegitimate child and a divorced Princess of Brit.
Just the title alone was thrilling and extremely stimulating.
This cunning guy.
As expected, he was a fox. Henry looked at Edgar with satisfied eyes. Edgar also responded to the gaze with a hearty smile.
"Let's start right away, Your Excellency."
It was a remark that made the refreshments prepared on the table awkward, but it wasn't as if this was a friendly gathering on a leisurely afternoon, so there was nothing else to say.
Russell Dickson, who was serving as the president of the Dumblein Cricket & Tennis Club and the president of the Brit Tennis Players Association, was very displeased with this situation.
Where did she dare to come?
A woman.
His enraged mustache trembled.
For over a hundred and fifty years, it had been a sacred space for gentlemen. It was not a place for a mere woman to defile. Especially a lowly illegitimate child.
This was clearly an outrage that broke with tradition, a challenge to the authority of gentlemen, and a desecration of the lawn. It was an act that could not be tolerated.
It was the same for the other members.
If women were allowed to enter like this, they might have to listen to their wives even in this forbidden area.
Oh! How terrible!
It would be better if the world came to an end.
Absolutely opposed!!!
The cold gazes staring at Olivia were shouting in unison. Russell sent a look of agreement to the leader of the allies.
"What's the rush? It's not too late to have a cup of tea."
Ah, no. Your Excellency?
Russell's face turned red as he was embarrassed by Henry's change of heart.
He wasn't like this when he ordered the rejection of the usage permit. The owner of the angry expression seemed to have been half-seduced by that foxy woman.
Russell, whose teeth chattered with a sense of betrayal, stared at Olivia as if he would devour her.
"No. It's better to run with a light body."
Olivia said, looking directly at Henry.
It wasn't an atmosphere where she could drink tea at all. Olivia wasn't shameless enough to leisurely savor tea in front of people who were openly sending unpleasant gazes.
They were psychologically attacking Olivia. She had guessed that she wouldn't be welcomed, so she wasn't too intimidated.
However. Did she have to go this far? Olivia had asked Edgar. He smiled and replied.
'If there is no way, we have to make one.'
Most clubs were the exclusive property of men, and tennis courts, which were a sport for nobles, were only owned by Brit Palace, a few universities, and some hotels. Therefore, if she wanted to practice without being exposed to the media, Dumblein Club, which had the most thorough security, was suitable.
'I don't expect to win.'
'I'm not interested unless it's a win.'
As she recalled what he had said on the day she signed the application form, she heard Henry's benevolent voice.
"Then do so."
"Yes."
Olivia's eyes, which answered briefly, became resolute. Winning wasn't the goal, but she wouldn't show a ridiculous figure in front of these men, at least.
In the name of her senior.
Olivia clenched the racket in her hand and braced herself.
