A Parade of Suitors and an Invitation

"Have you heard the rumor? They say the Bernstein Grand Ducal Mansion can't keep the visitors away these days."

"Visitors?"

Scratch.

The quill, which had been moving diligently across the page, gave an unfamiliar screech and stopped. Ink splattered from the nib, leaving a black blot on the paper, but I ignored it and looked up to find Laura wearing an expression of grave concern.

"They say it's all a line of marriage proposals."

"Marriage proposals? In the middle of the season?"

"What does courtship care about a season? First come, first served, my lady."

Laura nodded solemnly and let out a long sigh.

"Until now, he was a cake in a painting. A magnificently tempting cake, granted, but everyone believed he existed only inside the frame. Now that it's turned out the cake can actually be eaten, they're all falling over themselves for a slice."

Laura clicked her tongue in disdain.

"And yet, honestly, they have no shame at all. Even if they're utterly blind, how can they carry on openly with marriage talks when they know full well things are already in motion between the two of you!"

"True enough."

It was, admittedly, a breach of social etiquette to a certain degree.

But that only applied when one woman acted alone. When they banded together, the shamelessness multiplied until no one cared who was watching.

"'True enough'? True enough, my lady? Do you have any idea what that means?"

"Means what?"

"It means that if you're not careful, you could lose His Grace the Grand Duke to someone else!"

Laura shouted, worked up into a full fervor, as if to say, isn't that why you're asking?

"I mean, of course, yes, you're holding the high ground right now! But nothing is certain until the wedding bells ring!"

Not only the young ladies who had long courted him, but even ambitious families hoping to forge ties with the Grand Duchy of Bernstein—every last one of them, purse strings loosened, was apparently throwing their hats into the ring.

So that's why he's been popping up less often lately.

He'd been appearing before me day after day, and I'd wondered if he simply had too much time on his hands. Even so, it seemed he couldn't bring himself to turn away the guests who came calling on the master of the ducal house.

"Apparently everyone else is pulling out all the stops to win his favor—bribes, gifts, you name it, they're showering him with everything."

"……"

"And meanwhile, our lady is being buried under an avalanche of gifts from His Grace practically every single day!"

There she goes again.

Laura gestured toward the mountains of presents and flowers that had arrived yet again today. Gifts really had been pouring in almost daily lately, as though he were apologizing for the days he hadn't been able to come see me in person.

"Why don't you send something back in return, my lady? Just a little something?"

"Whatever I sent would fall woefully short of everything I've received so far."

"Oh, come now—when has the price of a gift ever mattered? It's the thought that counts, the thought!"

That's the question, isn't it.

The gifts I'd already received were staggering—so staggering I hadn't even finished cataloguing them all. Writing them off with 'thought' alone felt rather thin.

Still, as Laura said, sitting idly by and doing nothing did leave an uncomfortable taste in my mouth.

"……Then think of something appropriate and send it."

"Yes, my lady! I'll put our heads together with the butler and come up with something!"

"We can't let the Marquisate Zacherete be outdone by some other noble house, can we!" Laura declared, brimming with spirit. Watching her, I couldn't help but smile.

"By the way, Laura—speaking of the nobility, that reminds me. What should we do about these?"

As if to change the subject, Laura appeared carrying an enormous basket from somewhere. Inside, letters were piled so high no mere tray could have held them.

"They're all invitations addressed to you, my lady. There were always plenty, but lately it seems they've doubled."

"No mystery there. They're all schemes to probe the situation between me and the Grand Duke, aren't they."

The scandal was sweeping through the Imperial Capital at this very moment. Everyone was dying to find out whether it was true or not, but the Grand Duke himself was far too dangerous a target to touch—so they were desperate to get at the easier prey: me, holed up in my mansion as I was.

"Just decline them all, same as always. I've skipped most society events even in ordinary times, so there's little fresh criticism to be had now."

"Fair enough. After all, you've never needed to go building connections, my lady."

I nodded.

If anything, the more people tangled up with me, the bigger the headache.

Information gathering is essential for business, but that's only when you need a stepping stone.

For someone already standing at the top, it didn't apply. A word from my lips was the information—and I'd lose far more of it than I'd ever gain.

Besides, a garden party? Really.

Picking up one of the invitations, I scanned its contents with a troubled frown.

I was a marchioness, after all—but being naturally invited to gatherings of noblewomen was itself a gray area. I was, first of all, neither wife nor widow.

Of course, the trend lately was for married ladies to bring their daughters along one by one, but I fit into neither category.

"If I went, all I'd get is torn apart from both sides."

"You're right about that…… oh! Then how about this one?"

"Hmm?"

"An invitation from Viscountess Evrelle."

"Evrelle?"

When I held out my hand, Laura passed me the letter.

"Evrelle as in the owner of the Eldbrel Hotel at No. 7 Rodun Street, right?"

"That's the one. And one of the places I've been working hard to supply with our brand tea."

Viscountess Evrelle, like me, was a woman who had inherited her family's title. The viscountcy itself was far from wealthy, however, and she had torn down the family's modest capital residence to build a hotel—the venture that launched her into serious business.

She now runs three hotels across the empire.

Perhaps because she was a self-made businesswoman, she tended to avoid entangling herself with the powerful factions, socially or otherwise. And yet she had sent me an invitation first?

I quickly broke the seal and read.

"What will you do, my lady?"

In response to Laura's question of whether I would attend, I simply flipped the invitation over in silence.

However I looked at it, this seemed like a fairly naked lure……

"Well, what should I do."

Meanwhile, at that very moment.

The lounge of the Eldbrel Hotel, No. 7 Rodun Street.

"Oh, he's simply too dashing for words. I'd almost be embarrassed to even speak of him elsewhere!"

"Tell me about it. To think the lady who kept herself the quietest of us all would cause this kind of scandal."

"Strictly speaking, she isn't a 'young lady' at all. Rare as it may be, she formally inherited her title—she's a proper peer in her own right."

"Honestly, it's on the tip of my tongue every time. Ah well, who cares? It's just us girls here."

Laughing merrily—hoho—the noblewomen sipped their tea with perfect elegance and let the gossip flow.

The gowns they wore, the words they mouthed—every element matched what belonged among graceful society ladies. And yet the words actually spilling from their lips were vulgar beyond measure.

Tsk. People who know nothing but tearing others down.

Doresa Evrelle, seated at a corner table, let out a small sigh.

The Eldbrel Hotel lounge was by design a privileged space, accessible only to hotel guests and annual members—

—and it was these shameless women, forever drifting in at every opportunity to spend their afternoons dropping her name, who were giving her such a headache.

At least if they paid, that would be one thing. But to come waltzing in time after time and shamelessly squat in my seats like this……

The viscountess's eyes narrowed as she regarded them.

Their reaction the one time she'd finally lost patience and said something was a spectacle unto itself.

"Oh my, forgive us—we simply weren't mindful. Though I must say, we're a little hurt. And here we thought we were quite close to you, Viscountess."

"This is why one mustn't befriend a lady of business, I always say. They see people not as people, but as sums of money."

And that day, too, they had drifted off without paying a single coin.

I'd assumed they'd have the decency not to return.

Yet these women kept treating the place like their own private parlor, and every single time, they made a point of summoning Doresa away from her work to sit and gossip with them.

Perhaps tangling with the Marchioness would be the better bargain after all? She's young, but she runs her own business, and she seems to handle money rather well.

She was swallowing a sigh at the thought of how much more profitable that arrangement would be, and raising her cup for a sip of tea, when—

"That reminds me—has anyone among us received a reply from the Marchioness to her invitation?"