Chapter 5
The dinner concluded relatively quickly. There were only four attendees, and none of them seemed particularly inclined to speak. As usual, the task of tossing out topics to keep the atmosphere at the table from becoming awkward fell to the good-natured nephew-in-law.
Count Watt Wordsworth of Benford was one of the few people who understood the history of conflict between his wife’s aunt, the Dowager Duchess, and her son better than anyone. As is often the case with family feuds, the situation was complicated. Setting aside the finer details, it could be summarized as follows:
When the Duke suddenly inherited his title about three years ago, he had a lover. Aside from her commoner status, she had several disqualifying factors that meant while she might somehow have become the Duke’s sister-in-law, she could never, ever be the Duchess. It was fortunate that the relationship had ended before any engagement was announced.
However, the Duke had reunited with that forcibly separated lover last month. It was widely assumed he had proposed to her again, and that was likely why he had remained in the capital for nearly a month, yet in the end, he had returned alone.
And now, at the very first meal upon his return, he had dropped a bombshell: he intended to host a ball to find a bride.
“A ball? Isn’t that a bit self-centered?”
As Watt listened to Victoria snap at the Duke in a tone bordering on a reprimand, he found himself wishing for a cigar. But if he suggested heading to the smoking room, his wife would glare at him. The smoking room was a space for gentlemen only.
Therefore, the Count and Countess remained at the empty dining table with the Duke even after the meal had finished.
“If you want to meet a woman, you should be more active in social circles. You barely show your face at the Imperial Palace banquet once a year at most; where do you expect to meet anyone?”
“That is exactly why I am hosting a ball, Countess.”
“It’s unrefined. It’s too blatant. If you put in even a little effort, you could meet ladies naturally. Demanding they gather before you is arrogance. It’s so arrogant it’s almost sickening.”
“Goodness. You must have a difficult time living with such a progressive and fierce wife, Count.”
The Duke picked up his whiskey glass with a faint smile. Watt, responding with a similar smile, picked up his own glass. The Duke continued without taking a sip.
“If you’re worried I’ll be acting like a lion lord over a pride, don’t be. Naturally, I’ll be inviting an equal number of gentlemen. When handsome men and beautiful women gather in one place, eyes are bound to meet. I guarantee at least five marriages will come of it.”
“So Your Grace intends to play matchmaker?”
“Let’s just say I’m contributing to the prosperity of Northern society.”
“How self-sacrificing of you. Truly fit for the King of the North.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Following ‘King of the Railways,’ now you’re ‘King of Society.’ That makes you a triple crown winner.”
“The more crowns, the better.”
The Duke laughed. He looked relaxed. He brought the crystal glass to his lips and swallowed a mouthful of whiskey. The Duke of Windberg looked no different than usual.
However, Watt knew that his heart was broken. That was precisely why Gerard was rushing to find a suitable woman and marry. It had been four years since he became the Duke following an unexpected accident. Gerard no longer had any reason to delay his duties.
Because his first love had finally, utterly failed.
“Gerard. There’s no need to rush so much.”
Victoria spoke again, her tone shifting. It was a gentle, slightly pitying voice, as if she were addressing a young cousin.
Gerard was ten years younger than her, the youngest among all the cousins on both sides of the family. Born and raised as the youngest, he was a man who possessed the independence, spirit of adventure, and slight streak of rebellion typical of a young lord excluded from the line of succession. He was someone who had looked askance at the aristocratic society he belonged to, viewing it with cynicism and seeking to escape it.
That was before he became the Duke. Back when he was simply ‘Gerard Glenn.’
Watt watched the head of the table, wondering how the Duke would respond to this change in atmosphere his wife had attempted. Without a hint of agitation, the Duke held his glass, looking at his cousin with lowered eyes as he matched her tone.
“There is a need, Sister Victoria.”
“May I ask what that need is?”
“I wonder why you’re asking something so obvious.”
He let out a short laugh as he retorted. It was cynical, or perhaps self-deprecating. Or maybe both.
“I need an heir. As soon as possible. What other reason could there be?”
Behind the Duke’s smooth expression was a solid wall. Watt noticed that his wife had seen it too. He could tell by the way Victoria looked at her cousin, and the way the Duke met her eyes without expression.
“I’m thirty now. I can’t put it off any longer.”
He spoke softly and lowered his gaze. His green eyes blinked slowly beneath the shadow of his lashes.
“I’ve indulged myself enough. It’s time to live in reality.”
The muttered words sounded as if he were speaking to himself. He didn’t seem to care that there was no reply. The Duke simply swirled the glass in his right hand slowly, very slowly. The crystal sparkled in his large, elegant hand.
A brief silence followed. Watt held his tongue, unsure of what to say. His wife also appeared to hesitate several times, but in the end, she said nothing.
After the heavy air lingered for a moment, it was the Duke who broke the uncomfortable silence again.
“I have a favor to ask of you, Sister.”
“Anything, just say it.”
“Could I ask the two young ladies of the Earldom to be flower girls at the wedding? I would like Elma and Alice to take on that important role.”
The Duke looked up at his cousin as he asked. Victoria took a slow breath, meeting his gaze. She still seemed to hesitate, but Watt knew his wife would never bring herself to ask what she truly wanted to know. What could she possibly say at this point?
“The girls, of course, would be delighted.”
“I’m glad.”
The Duke nodded.
“The flower girls are decided. Now I just need to find a bride.”
He laughed as he said it. His face was perfectly casual. Facing that expression, the Count and his wife couldn’t even manage a polite smile.
That was how Watt knew. They would never be able to mention that matter ever again. Gerard had sealed away his past forever, and he would allow no one to approach it.
Gerard Glenn had decided to submit to his fate. No, that fact had already been decided three years ago. He was already the Duke of Windberg, the King of the North, and the master of this massive, historic Maxville estate.
Whether he wanted it or not, he already was.
By the time Rosalyn stepped off the train, Baron Elwood’s carriage had already arrived. As she exited the station, a coachman approached to guide her, and the Baroness, waiting inside the carriage, greeted her niece with delight.
“Welcome. You’ve arrived right on time.”
“You’re out early, Aunt. I hope you haven’t been waiting long?”
“Not at all, so don’t worry.”
With a bright smile, Rosalyn sat across from the Baroness. The weather had warmed up considerably, making her coat feel a bit heavy.
“The weather is lovely. It feels like spring is finally coming.”
“I think spring is already here. Just look at you.”
Baroness Elwood looked at her with a pleased expression.
Rosalyn was dressed in a winter wool dress suited for the weather. The high collar was elegantly decorated with ruffles and a brooch. The brooch, adorned with a cameo and pearls, was a cherished keepsake from her mother.
As a lady should, she hadn’t forgotten her gloves and hat. Her felt hat was stylishly accented with silk ribbons and egret feathers, and her soft kidskin gloves were neatly embroidered with only her initials at the wrist. While Rosalyn wasn’t one to obsess over trends, she cared about looking presentable and had a natural sense of style.
“You look even lovelier out in the light. Your style is wonderful.”
“Thank you. I’m glad I don’t look like a country girl.”
“Is that a jab at me?”
“Of course not, Aunt. I haven’t taken it to heart at all. No matter what you say, Andover isn’t some backwater village.”
“Goodness. I shall keep that in mind, Viscountess.”
The Baroness gave her a playful, exasperated look. Rosalyn offset her somewhat provocative remark with a charming smile. She took pride in her hometown and possessed the self-respect expected of a Viscount’s daughter. Just as most daughters of the nobility did.
The carriage carrying the two ladies left the station and headed toward the department store. Even though it wasn’t the weekend, the roads were congested and crowded. It was to be expected, as it was the most bustling central district in Windberg. However, the women in the carriage were too busy chatting to be bored.
“Have you read that author’s book? No, of course not, a girl like you wouldn’t read such a thing. I heard it’s more vulgar than a cheap romance novel.”
The Baroness frowned, looking as if she were about to click her tongue. Rosalyn simply listened in silence.
