Chapter 125

“Where are you coming from, Catherine?”

Catherine, returning from the West Palace, ran into the marquis outside her room.

‘Lounging around as usual.’

Well, what reason would someone born into a vast estate have to work as hard as she did? Catherine found herself resenting him again.

All he’d ever done was be born a high noble and, by luck, have the right to use women like her for his own gain. Once, it was the former Grand Duchess; now, it was Catherine… Hiding behind capable women, acting important.

Catherine smiled, her voice biting.

“Living easy, aren’t you?”

“What?”

The marquis stared, startled. Catherine relished his immediate reaction.

“I just had tea in the West Palace with that Truydd woman. And what were you up to? Wandering around, grumbling about how you’re not being properly treated. Isn’t that right?”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but plenty clear for those nearby to hear. The marquis looked around, flustered, then dragged Catherine into her room.

Bang. The door slammed. The marquis hissed in anger.

“What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? Cledwyn will be back tomorrow, and you want to ruin everything we’ve built?”

Wasn’t now the time Catherine needed to play her part perfectly and achieve their goal?

He couldn’t believe she didn’t understand, right at the moment of success. Suddenly, he was suspicious.

‘The West Palace… Could it be?’

The marquis could think of only one thing. There’s no way Nerys Truydd would persuade Catherine to betray him—if she weren’t giving up the Grand Duchess’s seat, she would have said so from the start. So the answer was…

‘Catherine, she’s trying to assert herself.’

How dare she? After all he’d done for her?

He sneered coldly.

“Lost your nerve, have you? Feeling insecure because you can’t beat Nerys Truydd? Planning to side with her, is that it?”

To Catherine, his tone was proof of what Nerys had said earlier. Look at him turn on her, just like that! After all she’d given up to come to this freezing place?

Seeing her betrayal reflected in her sharp eyes, the marquis became certain of his suspicions. And seeing the marquis’s twisted expression, Catherine became certain of hers.

“If you’re not busy, go take a nap. I’m busy doing things for your benefit.”

She said coldly and opened the door. Several servants were gathered in the hallway.

She snapped at them, too.

“What are you staring at? Get lost!”

The servants scattered. The marquis, face red, stormed out, yelling. How dare this lowborn girl! Does she think she’s already the Grand Duchess?

“Let’s see if things go well for you, behaving like that!”

Catherine slammed the door in his face and laughed quietly to herself.

“Oh, it’ll go well. I’m not stupid enough to let you use me and then get rid of me.”

She decided she needed to move things along.

❖ ❖ ❖

A clear trumpet rang over the snowy castle.

“His Grace has returned!”

In Maindulante’s winter, where water froze before tea could steep, the people braved the cold to greet their lord, even though he’d only been gone a few days.

Nerys had lined everyone up in the courtyard to welcome the returning order and Cledwyn. The arrangement was nearly identical to her first day here, except now Nerys stood at the head of the officials, and Catherine Haricote stood, ill at ease, among the servants and staff.

When Cledwyn finally appeared, rounding the village below, Catherine’s face lit up. She wanted to see him so badly, and—though she knew the others wouldn’t welcome her—she stood there anyway, the perfect image of a devoted young lady.

Once inside the gates, Cledwyn dismounted. Smiling, he gave Nerys a nod.

“I’m back.”

“Your Grace.”

Nerys bowed formally as the representative of the staff. The mood between them was even stiffer than a few days earlier, making the officials trade glances. Do you know anything? No? What’s going on?

Catherine noticed too, and smiled to herself. As Cledwyn finished greeting Ellen and Madame Truydd, Catherine made sure to move into his line of sight.

“Ah.”

Her efforts weren’t wasted—Cledwyn acknowledged her.

“You’re still here.”

It wasn’t the sort of greeting any sensible man would give, but Catherine took it as a very positive sign. He’d noticed her—surely the advisor was convinced, too.

‘Once feelings open, you can’t close them again.’

And that went for the vixen of the Sabena troupe, once she’d set her sights on a man. Catherine glanced around and then hurried up to Cledwyn, giving a cute little sneeze.

“A-choo! Your Grace, did you have a good trip?”

“Yes. You look cold—why did you come out?”

“To make an impression, of course. I’m going to be your wife.”

The sound of horses, hooves, and bustling castlefolk—all of it fell silent in an instant. It felt as though not even birds dared make a sound.

Aidan, walking behind Cledwyn, stared in shock, and Talfrin, the stablehand behind him, dropped his jaw. What?

‘What the—?’

Whether she noticed the stunned stares or not, Catherine spoke boldly.

“If you don’t mind, let’s have tea later—with Nerys Truydd, too. I’d like everyone in the castle to watch. The more the better. That way, you can all see that show-off put in her place.”

From the second sentence on, every look thrown her way turned icy.

In the crowd of nobles, Hilbrin balled his fists and stepped forward, and even Talfrin gave Catherine a sharp glare.

“Put in her place? My advisor?”

Cledwyn smiled with clear amusement. Catherine, thrilled, looked up at the flash in his eyes.

“If you’re capable, I’d love to see it. All right, everyone in the castle will gather in the grand hall in one hour.”

“I’m delighted! Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll show you something entertaining.”

“I hope it’s truly ‘entertaining.’”

Catherine, overjoyed, didn’t notice the glance Cledwyn and Nerys exchanged, or the marquis in a corridor, stroking his emerald ring and staring coldly at her.

She couldn’t have seen it.

❖ ❖ ❖

“Prepare to leave.”

The marquis’s knight looked troubled.

“Your Excellency, there’s still deep snow outside. The way back includes mountain roads. Isn’t it too dangerous to leave now?”

“Don’t argue. Just be ready. Make sure it’s discreet—so we can leave whenever necessary.”

“…Understood.”

The marquis could not be persuaded by reason. The knight gave up and left.

Alone, the marquis sat at the table, fiddling with the emerald ring. With the right touch, the mechanism clicked and the emerald popped open.

A secret space was revealed under the golden setting holding the transparent emerald. In the long groove was a viscous liquid—pressing a button would release a drop.

‘One hour, she said.’

He had no intention of humiliating himself by braving the cold to greet his grandson. He disliked everyone in this castle. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching.

From a second-story window, he watched Cledwyn’s return—barbaric, as expected from these northerners. Riding on horseback instead of a proper carriage, like a bear, and his proud retainers behind him.

Still, he was glad he watched. He could tell Catherine was plotting something.

‘That fox wouldn’t act so stupid without a reason.’

To embarrass Nerys Truydd? If she’d said as much, her real target was surely something else. The marquis believed Catherine was playing dumb on purpose.

And the talk of “impressing His Grace,” and “I’ll be his wife”—who would say that before even an engagement? Obviously, she wanted to make the listeners uneasy.

‘She’s laying the groundwork in case I expose her, to make it look like I lured her here with promises.’

Just like always. And then she’d play the victim.

He didn’t mind that—except that Catherine had stopped listening to him once she got close to Cledwyn. Judging by her attitude, and her boldness now…

The alliance between the Sabena vixen and the Marquis of Tipion was, at this moment, completely broken in his mind. He closed the ring and stood.

“We’ll see who’s embarrassed…”

He’d just wait and see.

If he disappeared without a trace, and the woman he’d always resented took the Grand Duchess’s seat, well—he could watch from the afterlife.

But for now, the vixen was still alive, and the marquis planned to enjoy the show she’d set up. It would be a waste not to watch a great actress’s final performance.

As her last employer, he might as well add a little pleasure to her finale.

“You there!”

He shouted at the door, his confidence fully restored as if he’d just arrived in Maindulante.

Footsteps approached. Tapping the table, the marquis waited. When Ellen entered, he grinned slyly.

Ellen asked stiffly,

“Do you need something, Your Excellency?”

“Watch your mouth. I was the one who appointed you, a fifth cousin to the marquisate’s head maid, as my daughter’s maid. You’ve lived well here thanks to me—do you ever show gratitude?”

“You kicked out my aunt as soon as I survived here for a few years. Were you afraid we’d hold something over you?”

“Ha! As if that’s a real weakness.”

“This time you brought in a new niece from somewhere. A fake daughter, a fake niece… That vaunted bloodline of yours isn’t much, if you can swap it out for power.”

“Fool. Worth is made by people. I only gave them what they wanted. Never mind—you’ve lived among these barbarians too long, but I’ll forgive your rudeness.”

The marquis was satisfied with Ellen’s cold glare at the mention of Catherine.

Stupid vixen. Ellen and the late Grand Duchess had survived many brushes with death together. How could she fall for an impostor? If anything, she’d want to tear her apart.

“My grandson’s girl sticking to Catherine must annoy you. Here’s a gift. Go to my knights, and they’ll give you a servant.”

Ellen frowned. Even so, the marquis chuckled, thinking of what was about to happen.

“Her first man. He was a popular actor in the Sabena troupe, but once he dated her, his life was ruined. He’s dumb enough for you to use at the big party in an hour—do as you please.”

If the exposed vixen left quietly with her old lover, who would care? Let Nerys Truydd be the Grand Duchess. Now the marquis was willing to cooperate as much as needed.