Chapter 12
His creditor was a man who would extract his due no matter what. The Family Law Amendment demanded by that creditor was a bill from the Progressive Party. The upcoming battle was already destined to be arduous; he could not afford to shackle himself further by becoming the son-in-law of the Conservative Party leader.
“Then what are the Imperial Family’s thoughts on this, Mother?”
“The Imperial Family?”
“I doubt a union between Windberg and Mendel would please Her Majesty the Empress.”
“Did the Empress give you some kind of hint?”
“If you mean a hint…”
“Regarding your marriage. As in, whether she has a particular lady in mind for your bride.”
“I haven’t received a proposal quite that gracious, but she has certainly shown a great deal of interest in my wedding.”
“Of course she has. Ferbrante has always taken a keen interest in the Glan family.”
“Even more so now, I imagine. Since a respected elder of the Imperial Family serves as the Dowager Duchess.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
Though she gave her son a playful, elegant scold, Diane Glenn did not seem to mind the comment at all.
She was a woman who possessed immense pride in her imperial blood. She was well aware that the current Empress exerted invisible influence over the political world and remained far removed from the Conservatives. Moreover, the Imperial Family would naturally find it unwelcome if two ducal houses—the two powers leading politics and the economy—were to be joined by marriage.
The Glenn family had historically maintained a subtly strained relationship with the Imperial Family. That quiet antagonism, born of historical reasons, had persisted to this day and settled into a sort of family tradition. Even though several duchesses bearing the imperial surname had entered the family over the years, they had failed to change that fundamental stance. Gerard, like his father and brother before him, was continuing that tradition.
It was a tradition he didn’t mind. He found it tedious to frequently visit the distant capital, and he had no desire to cozy up to the Imperial Family.
“I understand your point. If that’s the case, we should exclude the Princess.”
“Thank you.”
“Then a spot has opened up for the tea party.”
“That’s for the best. Fewer candidates means less worrying for you, Mother.”
“I can’t have that. Guests must be invited in odd numbers. That way, when they walk in pairs, no one is left out.”
“Let’s see…” Diane Glenn murmured as she looked over the guest list. Simultaneously, Gerard glanced back at the clock on the mantelpiece. 11:45. It was time for him to head out.
He rose from his seat and walked toward the coat rack. He took down his well-brushed frock coat, slipped it on, and fastened a single button. Then, he turned his gaze back to his mother.
The Dowager Duchess was sitting on the couch, peering intently at the list. It was no longer his concern. He had already made up his mind to leave the choice of the Duchess to his mother.
Whether she used the tea party as a pretext for an interview, or whether there were four or five candidates attending, was of no consequence to Gerard. If his mother brought in a daughter-in-law she was satisfied with, there would be no friction between them, which would benefit him as well.
But at that moment, a single name that had surfaced in his mind could not be ignored.
‘There is a young lady I would like to introduce to you both.’
He believed her father’s title was a viscount. However, he couldn’t recall the name of the estate. The only things floating in his foggy memory were the woman’s name and her gray eyes.
“Fairfield.”
Gerard made the decision the moment he spoke the word. Choosing the Duchess was his mother’s task anyway. If it didn’t matter who entered that interview room, there was no harm in seating that woman in the remaining vacancy.
“Miss Roselyn Eleanor Fairfield. Her name should be on the list.”
Diane looked up at her son, who had spoken with precise pronunciation. She stared at his utterly businesslike face for a moment before lowering her eyes to the list to find the woman’s name.
“You mean the daughter of Viscount Andover?”
Andover. After murmuring the name to himself, Gerard nodded.
“Yes. Please give her the Princess’s seat.”
Diane gazed at her son, who stood a distance away, impeccably dressed and ready to depart.
“Very well, then,” she said, nodding with a composed expression.
“Shall I set a place for you that day as well?”
“No. My presence would only make everyone uncomfortable. You should observe them at your leisure and make your choice, Mother.”
“Is that wise? She is to be your wife.”
“She is your successor.”
Gerard smiled. Diane Glenn fell silent, her face devoid of humor. They faced each other, separated by a distance of about five paces.
The son was standing, and the mother was sitting. This familiar discomfort no longer even grated on him.
“I’ll be going now.”
“Yes. Go on then.”
Gerard left his mother alone and walked out of the office. The attendant waiting outside naturally followed behind him.
Hoping he wouldn’t run into any guests staying at the mansion and be forced into greetings, Gerard descended the stairs with a pace slightly faster than usual.
‘Please give her the Princess’s seat.’
Josephine Hayes was the daughter of a high-ranking noble. The mere fact that Roselyn had displaced the Princess would add a halo to her reputation.
Being selected as one of the final five candidates for Duchess. That title would serve her well in the marriage market and would be of no small help in finding a better husband. Thus, Gerard considered the debt paid with this.
‘Because it’s merely the byproduct of a failed compromise.’
He felt neither favor nor animosity toward the daughter of Viscount Andover. However, it was a fact that the woman had provided him with some form of comfort. If one receives something, one must return it. Being in anyone’s debt was not something Gerard Glenn enjoyed.
With his thoughts settled, he crossed the main hall on the first floor. His heels clicked against the stone floor, creating a steady, firm rhythm. The main hall, an architectural masterpiece of Maxville, had a ceiling as high as an ancient temple. The master’s footsteps echoed through the pillars, arches, and exquisite stone statues.
He encountered no one while leaving the mansion. As he reached the main entrance, the waiting chauffeur opened the rear door for him.
The car, carrying the Duke and two attendants, departed immediately for the hotel in the city where the meeting was scheduled.
“I heard the scale of Maxville is incredible. I heard the grounds alone are over a hundred acres.”
At Mrs. Selma’s words, Rosalyn brought her teacup to her lips.
Annie Selma’s visits had become frequent since she attended Margaret’s memorial dinner two months ago. Viscount Andover had been inviting his ‘best friend’ to Fairfield House under various pretexts, and today’s excuse was to teach her how to ride.
Rosalyn could not help but feel despair at the fact that Mrs. Selma did not know how to ride a horse. If she hadn’t learned to ride, she likely knew even less about social dancing or playing the piano. Did she even know the rules of chess or tennis? If she were to learn something quickly, those two offered the most hope. If she knew how to do nothing, how could she possibly engage in social activities as the Viscountess?
Whether Rosalyn despaired over her future stepmother’s level of refinement or not, Viscount Andover was preoccupied with his conversation with his lover.
“Actually, it’s closer to 130 acres. It takes about thirty minutes to ride along the walls surrounding the mansion and gardens. It’s quite understandable that you might be mistaken, as Maxville does not accept public visitors.”
“How do you know that, Viscount? It’s not as if you’ve been to Maxville yourself, have you?”
“You underestimate me, Mrs. Selma.”
“Then you’re saying you’ve been to the Duke’s estate?”
“Of course. I visited back in the days of Duke Philip, the grandfather of the current Duke. I was quite the capable young man back then.”
“You still seem like a young man to me, Viscount.”
“I know that’s flattery, but it’s pleasant to hear.”
Rosalyn was amazed that her father could act so much like a green youth. Boasting of himself before the woman he fancied, while the frivolous woman marveled with sparkling eyes. The middle-aged lovers were doing exactly what a young couple would do. They carried on regardless of the complicated thoughts swirling in Rosalyn’s head as she watched the scene.
The three of them were currently having tea in the first-floor drawing room. However, Mrs. Selma would soon push her way into the family room upstairs, and Rosalyn felt it would be best for everyone if she left Andover before that happened.
There was no longer a place for her here at Fairfield House.
Her younger brothers were now grown and no longer needed their older sister’s care. Her younger sister would miss her for a while, but she was no longer at an age where she would crawl into the spot next to her in bed while crying.
Her father, who had left the household management to his eldest daughter, was eagerly awaiting the arrival of a new Viscountess. Rosalyn had absolutely no desire to engage in a war of nerves with a new mistress over the management of the estate.
‘So, there’s no place for me anymore.’
Whenever that thought occurred to her, she felt a sense of loneliness. She also felt a sense of urgency and crisis, knowing she had to leave this mansion as soon as possible. It was true she worried about the dignity and reputation of the Viscount Andover family in her absence, but if choosing Mrs. Selma was her father’s will, there was nothing she could do.
“Tell me about the ball, Miss Fairfield. What is the Duke of Windberg like?”
Mrs. Selma turned the topic back to her. Rosalyn set aside her musings, lowered her teacup, and offered a natural smile.
