The Grand Duchess's Sixth First Night — Chapter 13
“It's merely a match made by His Majesty the Emperor's grace, you see. Truthfully, there's still so much I don't know about Sir Ervan myself.”
Bena's eyes sparkled as she seized Laila's hand.
“I already heard all about it from Princess Ariel. You shared dinner at the Imperial Palace, didn't you? Word is everywhere that Sir Ervan couldn't even touch his plate because he was too busy looking at you, Lady Laila.”
Princess Ariel, you've gotten something thoroughly mixed up.
Laila dabbed at a cold sweat inwardly. The young ladies, mistaking the flush on her face for the heat of embarrassment, burst into giggles.
To the young ladies of Laila's own age, she had always been the object of their longing — someone they wished they could be like.
A romance with her as its heroine was, to them, nothing short of the season's bestselling novel.
Yet not everyone in high society looked upon Laila with admiration alone.
Not long after the tea party, the young ladies gathered once more in a single place — at the engagement ceremony of Laila and Ervan.
The ceremony was conducted in abbreviated form and ended quickly. There was no ring exchange, no vows of betrothal. The engagement between the two was sealed simply by their signatures on a document.
This had been Laila's wish.
It's a marriage brought about by the Emperor's command anyway.
A ritual for confirming each other's true feelings, words swearing eternity — all of it would have been nothing but deception. Above all, Laila did not wish to attach any great meaning to this engagement.
Once the ceremony concluded swiftly, the celebratory banquet began. In a somewhat freer atmosphere, the nobles each took up their glasses and set about enjoying the festivities. Some approached Laila and Ervan to offer their congratulations, while others clustered with their closest acquaintances to trade gossip.
“Viscount Ervan, I'd like to speak with you further regarding the Knights' year-end supply issue.”
A noble who had offered the couple a brief word of congratulations cut straight to the matter at hand. Before Ervan could even ask Laila's leave, she answered for him with a light press against his side.
“I'll return shortly.”
Ervan murmured the words into Laila's ear and departed.
Laila had just been granted a brief respite when she felt an unpleasant gaze upon her and turned her head.
“A banquet starting this early — the sun hasn't even set yet.”
“I imagine the Grand Duke isn't entirely pleased about it either, is he?”
“Taking a son-in-law of lowly commoner blood — the Grand Ducal House must be churning inside.”
In a corner of the banquet hall, noblewomen hiding their mouths behind ornate fans were trading venomous whispers.
“I hear he only just learned his letters.”
“And his etiquette? He's utterly ignorant of noble protocol, you know.”
“For the noble Grand Duchess to share a bed with such a rootless savage — why, it's a disgrace to all of high society, isn't it?”
The noblewomen did not stop their slander even knowing that Laila was watching them. If anything, they glanced at her sidelong and wore smiles laced with mockery.
Then, with the sound of heavy footsteps, a great shadow fell over them. It was Ervan.
“I don't know whether a rootless savage has any right to intrude upon a conversation between noblewomen, but allow me a word.”
The oppressive presence radiating from his massive frame was more than enough to frighten them. Ervan made no particular effort to hide his killing intent.
The noblewomen could only stare up at him, faces drained pale, unable to utter a single word.
“V-Viscount Ervan.”
The Marchioness retreated a step, her fan slipping from her fingers. Ervan bent slowly at the waist, picked up the fan, and handed it back to her. Even in the posture of a bow, the menace emanating from him did not diminish in the slightest.
“Th-thank you…….”
The Marchioness's hand trembled wretchedly as she took the fan. The mocking smile she had worn while prattling about disgraces to society had vanished without a trace.
Ervan's cold eyes fixed squarely on each of the gathered noblewomen in turn.
“Say whatever you like about me. Savage, lowborn — call me what you will. But.”
Ervan smiled. Yet the eyes holding those golden irises were not smiling at all.
“You would do well to think very carefully before you speak of my fiancée or her family.”
Ervan leaned down, his voice rumbling low at the noblewomen's ears like a growl.
“If you're curious what happens when a rootless savage goes mad, I won't stop you from finding out.”
The ashen-faced noblewomen scattered in every direction in an instant. Most fled to their husbands' sides, and the husbands, seeing Ervan standing alone, quickly grasped the situation. Some stiffened their expressions in solidarity; others reprimanded their wives.
“Good heavens.”
“That was magnificent.”
Della and Bena, drawing near to Laila's side, murmured as if bewitched.
It had been quite the little drama. Laila, who had watched the whole thing from the beginning, bit down hard on the lips threatening to curl into a smile. In truth, she felt thoroughly satisfied.
Ervan, who had been staring after the retreating noblewomen for some time, turned his head to look at Laila. The moment his cold eyes met hers, they softened.
At that melting smile, the young ladies gathered around Laila each began to squeal shyly. And at last, at her fiancé's smile directed at her, a smile settled onto Laila's face as well.
“Grand Duchess, I failed to keep my promise to return quickly.”
“I didn't wait all that long.”
“Just now, what happened was—”
The moment Ervan moved to explain the earlier scene, Laila fluttered the fan in her hand and extended her arm toward him.
“It's a little warm in there. I'd like some fresh air.”
Ervan respectfully took the offered arm and escorted her out to the terrace. While he closed the terrace doors behind them, Laila leaned against the railing and looked out. The sky was dyed crimson by the sunset, moments before the sun would sink from view.
“It seems it's hotter out here than inside.”
Ervan, drawing up beside her, admitted it honestly. Laila burst out laughing.
“Saying it's warm inside is the excuse nobles always use.”
“Why do they use such an excuse?”
Ervan asked back as though he genuinely could not understand.
“Because you can't come right out and say you want to go somewhere where no one can overhear the conversation you're about to have.”
“Why can't you say it outright?”
It was a question only someone as unaccustomed to noble society as Ervan could have asked.
Laila found herself momentarily at a loss for words. It had been self-evident to her from birth, so she had never once thought to question the reason.
After a moment's thought, she offered a plausible answer.
“Well. Perhaps it's because letting others see that you have a secret simply isn't what a noble does.”
“Living like a noble sounds like a terribly difficult thing.”
Laila said it with her hand resting on the terrace railing.
“I like this terrace. It's quiet, and it's private. Even if one behaves a little unlike a proper noble, there's no one here to see.”
Ervan raised one eyebrow. It was the first time she had ever spoken of preferring something.
On the mental notepad Ervan kept for Laila, a new line was written: likes terraces.
“Now then — shall we have the conversation we meant to have?”
Laila's face turned grave.
“First — frightening ladies the way you did is contrary to chivalry.”
“Yes. I was rash.”
Ervan admitted it without protest.
“If something like that happens again, just leave it be.”
“That may be difficult.”
The answer came instantly. At Laila's words, Ervan rejected the idea so quickly it was clear he wouldn't even consider it.
“I refuse to listen. The sort of men who dare speak of the Grand Duchess in such a demeaning way—!”
“I'm not telling you this because I intend to leave them alone.”
Laila gently cut him off.
“If Viscount Ervan hadn't been there just now, I would have dealt with them in my own way.”
“How, may I ask?”
“I would have spread my fan wide and approached them with my lips hidden behind it. I'd ask whether the pre-dinner wine was to their liking, whether the food suited their palate.”
Ervan listened intently as Laila explained, calm and measured.
“They would say everything was perfect. Even if there were something they disliked, pointing it out openly on the spot would be a breach of manners. And then I—”
Laila's eyes traced a cold, elegant arc.