An Unbecoming Notion
"I never thought I'd be coming back here!" Lydia said. Lydia was born and raised in the capital — and so was Kasika. The difference was that Kasika had grown up, if only barely, in one of the districts where the mansions of the nobility clustered, while Lydia had grown up in the slums.
"Wow, it's even more extravagant than I remember."
"Well, this is the street where the noble houses are."
Kasika said this as she gazed out of the carriage. This is the kind of street I wanted to live on. There was a time when I even thought I could. But Kasika had always been a decidedly practical woman, and she had come to terms with her circumstances quickly enough.
And then, a little over ten years later, here she truly was.
A mistress. A mistress, of all things.
She couldn't tell who stood to gain more from the arrangement. On the surface, it benefited Kasika — but in substance, it was Noah who had gotten exactly what he wanted. And in another sense, it made no sense at all. A man like Noah could have any woman of any house he desired, easily. Keeping a mistress while unmarried was, if anything, a liability for a man of his standing.
What could a man — one who could keep a mistress without the least scandal even after marrying — possibly want so badly that he would tarnish his own image to get it?
The vestibule was as lavish as ever. Like most capital residences, the Lamplis townhouse had preferred splendor in its entrance halls and corridors above all else, however modest the rooms beyond them might have been — the stairways and passageways where guests and society figures were received. At least, the Lamplis estate had been that way.
But the Lambroise estate was magnificent through and through, vestibule and everything besides. Guided into the drawing room, Kasika let her gaze linger briefly on decorations that differed considerably from what she remembered, then withdrew it.
In the drawing room sat the Countess, attended by two maids.
"Marchioness Lamplis."
"Countess Lambroise."
"Nearly ten years, hasn't it been? You haven't changed a bit. I'm so glad to see you."
At the Countess's words, Kasika offered a smile. It was the Countess herself, in truth, who hadn't changed since those days. Her abundant golden hair, the blush-pink paint on her cheeks — all of it exactly as before. Both women had the pale skin of those who had rarely seen sunlight; only the color in their faces differed. Kasika knew precisely how drab she must look beside her.
And it wasn't merely a matter of appearances.
Most daughters of the nobility were like this — all the more so when they were high-ranking and wealthy. They had been raised far too delicately to revile, envy, or resent anyone. Kasika, who had grown up in hardship — first as high nobility's neglected kin, then scrambling for her daily bread in barren circumstances — was something else entirely.
"The butler will show you to your quarters. He'll let us know when everything is ready, so do sit down."
At the Countess's word, Kasika took the seat across from her. Lydia departed first with the butler, headed for the room they would be staying in.
She remembered what the Lambroise estate had been like, but perhaps her memory had simply faded with time — the ceiling and furnishings were more opulent than she'd recalled. Walls of silk, embossed with patterns and overlaid with embroidery. It was beyond any comparison to the Marquis Lamplis's house, where peeling wallpaper and lamps that wouldn't light had left every room in perpetual gloom.
"Have you been keeping well?"
"Yes. And yourself?"
"I've been perfectly well, of course."
"This is late in coming, but my uncle, Count Elpertz, was greatly indebted to your family."
"Please, don't mention it — if anything, we're the ones ashamed it came to that at all."
At the Countess's words, Kasika smiled with only the corners of her lips. If Elpertz had still had any strength left, such a situation would never have arisen — but then again, neither would it have ended this way.
Ashamed, are you. What a pity.
A house had come to its end, and that was all she had to say for it. Not that this meant the Lambroises had had no hand in it. Whatever the case, they had been among those who offered help — while Kasika was with Elpertz, and after she had left it, alike.
"And regarding our Noah—"
"It's a temporary alliance. We've agreed to draw up a contract — I understand the lawyer is a gentleman of the cadet line."
"Ah. Yes, well, he does carry the Lambroise name regardless."
With that, the Countess smiled an apologetic sort of smile. It seemed she had managed to read the situation after all. How could she not? This arrangement was, in every respect, unflattering to Kasika.
"Kasika, are you sure about this?"
But there had been no other choice.
"If they're willing to forgive half my debts over a matter like this, I hardly see why not."
"You haven't made an appearance in society for some time, I notice."
It wasn't that she hadn't appeared lately — she had never appeared at all. Unlike other houses, Elpertz had had no adult woman to escort her to gatherings or attend her debut. Kasika had never once had her hair put up.
"Yes, so you may assume I'm entirely ignorant of that world. Please, guide me generously."
It worried her. Everything she knew of high society came secondhand, from rumors and newspapers. It wasn't that she now feared becoming a flower on the wall, nor would she consider herself ruined if her name failed to appear in the society columns. Even had she heard all its gossip, society would have remained an unknown world to her.
It was stepping into a world she didn't understand that frightened Kasika more than anything. If she was to conceal her ignorance convincingly, she would need to watch this woman across from her closely and learn. At the very least, she could imitate the outward shapes of refinement.
"Speaking of which — has your other son married yet?"
"Cay isn't married yet either. He's merely engaged."
"Perhaps Noah ought to be engaged as well?"
"He ought, but... he has his own will on the matter."
"His own will? Do you mean to say he's made himself a firm confirmed bachelor?"
"No, it's not that."
A troubled look crossed the Countess's face. She pressed a hand to her cheek as though embarrassed, then began fanning herself, unable to bear the heat rising to her face. When Kasika only stared at her, asking with her expression what on earth she meant, the Countess lowered her voice.
"...He says he intends to marry someone he loves."
"Good heavens."
Kasika said it with a suitably astonished face. She had already found something a little off about the man, but among all the nobles she knew, Noah Lambroise was unquestionably the strangest. Marry someone he loves?
"How dreadful. You must worry so. Wherever would he have picked up such a barbarous idea?"
"That's exactly what I say."
"He doesn't read romance novels, does he? The romances these days have the nobility tossing aside their betrothal contracts to run off and marry commoners, all in the name of love. Imagine."
"There are novels like that?"
"Oh yes — utterly shameless, beyond all common sense. A marriage between two nobles joined for love is astonishing enough, but a commoner, of all people. Still, they're so titillating that they make for rather enjoyable reading."
"Titillating indeed, I'm sure. To marry someone you love — how... how a person could even dream of such a thing is beyond me."
"Well, you may rest easy now. I'll take it upon myself to arrange a suitable match and a proper engage—"
Kasika stopped mid-sentence. Come to think of it, hadn't Noah sought to make use of her for the sake of his own dream?
"...I should like to try, at least. To make it possible, that is."
I'll decide after I read the contract.
It was, after all, an awkward thing to say — arriving as his contract mistress, of all things, with the power to obstruct his marriage.
"Once he's involved in society, perhaps Noah will change too."
"If that would have worked, it would have worked long ago. You'll have seen it yourself, but Noah was always a rather peculiar child. Unlike Cay, no amount of discipline ever took with him."
Part of it was that he argued so beautifully that any attempt at correction ended with her being persuaded, or outmaneuvered, or left speechless. In those moments she had wanted nothing more than to abandon all decorum and swing something — a fan of love's discipline, say — but the ever-cultivated Countess Lambroise could never bring herself to such behavior.
"Still, he's of an age now. I'm sure he'll do his part."
"...Do help him, my lady. Please."
"I can't promise I'll be much use, but I'll certainly try. If a suitable house comes to mind, I'll drop a hint. I'll see to it that the two of them get some time alone together."
When Kasika put on her most earnest, ready-to-help expression, the Countess's face shifted into something difficult to read. It might have been relief, or it might have been worry. Could it be that she knew who Noah's beloved was? The instant Kasika moved to ask, a knock sounded at the door and the butler entered.
"Marchioness Lamplis."
Both women's gazes turned to him.
"Your room is ready."
Reading the butler's glance as an invitation to follow, Kasika rose.
The corridor floor was laid with pristine white marble, her heels striking it with each step and ringing out in a curious, distinctive chime. The tall, heavy arched wooden doors were built to be opened by more than one pair of hands. Inside, a carpet covered the floor — purchased, by the look of it, from Padmavati in the eastern continent. The high ceiling bore that signature classical form, and hanging from it was a wrought-iron chandelier fitted with dozens of candles. Not real candles, of course — no trace of wax to be seen — so the fixtures had evidently been converted to mage-lights long ago. Along the long row of windows and the paneled wall opposite, paintings hung in frames — and not only in frames, for the wall carvings themselves bloomed with leaves and vines of grapes.