Old Habits Die Hard

Siena let her eyes flutter shut and open again, and in less than a heartbeat, she had fitted a brilliant smile into place. Her face transformed faster than it took to blink.

Then she clapped her palms together with a light snap. Every gaze gathered in the salon swung toward her at once.

As if welcoming those stares with her whole body, Siena gave a graceful wave of one hand. She swept her golden hair back over her neck, softened the angles of her eyes into a gentle curve, and descended the steps one at a time with a presence that seemed to crush the entire room.

"Oh, my! All the faces I've been longing to see, right here in one place!"

She adjusted the angle of her gaze as she went—granting the married ladies a performance of a thoughtful young noblewoman, showering the girls her own age with bright, familiar smiles.

Those seated on the sofa at the center of the drawing room greeted her warmly in return.

"Goodness, Siena! It's been ages, hasn't it? How have you been?"

"We heard about what happened in Gaverum. Are you all right?"

As it happened, they were in the middle of their afternoon tea—delicate teacups and dainty desserts arrayed across the table.

At a table a little apart, near the window, she could feel the gentlemen sneaking glances this way as they conversed with the tailor.

And of course, sitting among them with an air of utter boredom, was Claude Marcel. It no longer even surprised her.

Siena let their eyes meet for a moment, then turned away as naturally as breathing and headed straight for the sofa.

"Thank you all so much for your concern about the Gaverum affair. Fortunately, I've returned without anything happening."

"Getting the sea route vote passed in the middle of all that—honestly, it was astonishing. You gave us all quite the shock."

"It's a shame the Gaverum Founding Festival was canceled, but I think halting it was the right call. It was dangerous, after all."

Even the youngest of the young ladies chimed in with admirable conviction, congratulating her return and the passage of the vote—when a honeyed, melting voice slipped into the conversation.

"That's true. Still, you must have enjoyed some good time with your family, seeing them again after so long... right, Siena?"

Siena, who had been offering cordial greetings with her eyes gently crinkled, turned her head toward the owner of the voice.

It was the woman occupying the most central seat of all, presiding over the gathering. Viscountess Lamberton. Charlotte.

"Oh, but speaking of which—"

She drawled out the end of her sentence and shot a sly glance at the young lady beside her.

"Have you exchanged greetings with Lord Claude yet? The Duchess Marcel asked me to recommend her a tailor, you see. That's why I went to such trouble to invite him today—and here you both are, meeting like this."

A striking woman with jet-black hair and an unforgettable face. Dressed up with a blue diamond hairpin so dazzling it could blind, the beauty mark beneath her brilliant blue eyes as provocative as ever today.

"Ah... it hasn't been that long, has it? Lord Claude did visit Gaverum as well. I believe I heard you two were on the same train."

Watching her smear the words at the edges, as if reporting secondhand gossip at several removes, Siena refined her picture-perfect smile one degree further.

Old habits die hard, I see. Married with a child, and still carrying on exactly the way she used to. How remarkable that nothing's changed.

Sensing the faint tremor of excitement rippling through the room at Charlotte's remark, Siena lifted her chin ever so slightly and looked down at her.

At the corner of her vision, she glimpsed the alcove curtains around Claude Marcel's seat being drawn fully closed—a silent declaration that he would not meddle in the affairs of women.

Having confirmed that intention, Siena let her cool, crisp voice ring through the space.

"You're right. We did stay at the same hotel in Gaverum. The one Claude purchased, that is."

Siena smiled brightly, laying deliberate weight on the word hotel. The low murmur that had been drifting between the two of them—those sly glances, those knowing smiles—cut off dead.

Watching Charlotte's composure crumble, Siena approached her slowly, unhurried.

With the sharp click of heels on the floor, the ladies seated on either side of Charlotte scrambled out of their chairs, quick to read the room.

Siena claimed one of the vacated seats, basking in the stunned stares all around her, then brushed her hand along Charlotte's shoulder and took hold of her hand. With great intimacy.

"You really haven't changed a bit, have you?"

At those words, Charlotte's lashes trembled violently. Several of the ladies nearby pressed their handkerchief-clutched hands against their chests, struggling to steady themselves.

The air drew taut with tension. Siena, undaunted, beamed radiantly at Charlotte, who stubbornly held her gaze.

"When it comes to Claude, your information network was always the best. Oh, that's right—did you visit Gaverum? You should have come along this time. Then you could have seen my brother. I'm sure it would have made you so happy."

Charlotte's upturned eyes grew wider still. She was never one to shrink from a fight—so why start cowering now, of all times?

Unmoved by her reaction, Siena gave a slow, wickedly pleasant blink. Then, gripping her hand tight, she went on in a voice bright with feigned delight.

"Oh, no—forgive me, that would be disrespectful to your husband! But... it was such famous news at the time, surely you've heard? About you, and my brother, and Cl—"

The hand clasped in hers went rigid. Siena let her gaze flick downward and saw that Charlotte's fingertips had drained white.

The young ladies and married women here would never know. What Charlotte had done as a girl to win the attention of Claude and Hassar—a story known only to the central aristocrats of the capital in those days.

It had been so scandalous that everyone merely whispered behind their hands and guarded their tongues.

And it would be the fatal weakness of Charlotte, who was now being hailed as the next queen of high society.

But the moment Siena confirmed that ghost-white face, those trembling lips, every ounce of her enjoyment evaporated.

If she folds this easily, why provoke me in the first place? Honestly, I will never understand that woman.

"...Never mind. That was a slip of the tongue, Charlotte. We haven't seen each other in so long, I hardly know what I'm saying. Isn't that right?"

Before the silence could stretch further, one or two of the ladies seated nearby stepped in with light banter to revive the atmosphere on Charlotte's behalf, she who had clamped her mouth shut.

"Oh, of course, of course. You two were so close, weren't you? Just sharing your own little private jokes, hm?"

"Well, it was only natural, given how close you were. I'm sure we all regretted how you drifted apart, Charlotte, after you married so early and had your little one."

"We simply must set out a fresh cup for Siena."

Just as the awkward atmosphere seemed to pass its peak, one of the young ladies who had been hovering anxiously at Siena's side seized her opening and spoke up—

"Siena, about the sea route business—is it true the Marcel Ducal House has partnered with you? Your families have hardly been on good terms, so—"

Smack—

The sound of a hand being struck away rang loudly through the room. The young lady who had spoken grabbed her rejected hand and stared at Siena in wide-eyed shock.

"That was rather unpleasant."

Siena, letting her displeasure show just enough, asked in a voice pitched a full tone lower.

"What, are you curious about my mother's welfare now, too?"

Like a pitcher of ice water hurled across the room, the air froze in an instant.

Before that silence could stretch any longer, Siena burst into bright, ringing laughter of her own accord.

"I'm joking, I'm joking. Why is everyone making such faces?"

Waving her hand dismissively, Siena gave a light pat to the shoulder of the young lady seated at her left.

Only then did the frozen room thaw, its occupants leaking stiff, awkward laughs—wearing the faces of people who had entirely forgotten the expressions they'd just made.

Siena took in that paper-thin relief as she raised her teacup.

"Still, thank you for worrying about me. None of you ever change."

She put a peculiar weight on the words never change as she met their eyes one by one.

As if the past had been buried and forgotten, they all wore their plausible, rosy, innocent masks.

Siena, who had once stared into the faces beneath those masks, allowed a deeper smile to curve her lips.

"Charlotte, especially. I truly am so glad to see you. We must arrange a proper visit soon, all right?"

Siena smiled sweetly and leaned her body toward her. Lifting her hand, she stroked down the elaborate curls of Charlotte's hair and murmured, in a voice dropped a tone lower, as if to herself alone.

"Truly... no one ever obeyed me as well as you did."

Siena felt the head of the lady seated across from her whip toward her, and clasped Charlotte's hand all the more tenderly.

"I've neglected you all these years, buried in managing the family businesses. I should have been looking after you—and your husband, and your children too."

"What... what are you saying?"

"Still acting on your own authority, aren't you? Your husband. And the Campbell family, too."

The color had only just returned to Charlotte's face, and now it stiffened all over again.

After that incident four years ago, Charlotte's family, the Campbells, had been struck from the list of retainers of House Vice.

Having made an enemy of the Vices in a single stroke, she had moved swiftly, marrying Viscount Lamberton, a rising entrepreneur making a name for himself—and borne him a son the very next year.

But fortune, it seemed, ended there. The Campbells were branded traitors, and Viscount Lamberton was left to struggle through the cutthroat capital on nothing but his own merit. Alongside a wife determined to claim the throne of society.

"Let's see each other often from now on. Yes?"

Watching Siena nuzzle up to her so sweetly, Charlotte could barely force her halting breath out.

In four years, Siena had grown into someone Charlotte could not have imagined from her former self.

She had felt it in passing, whenever they crossed paths at banquets or in salons and exchanged greetings and a few polite words. But never, not once, had she felt it so keenly, so bone-deep, as she did today.

"Siena Vice. You claimed you were close with that woman—did you?"

Her husband, returned home late that night, had pressed her with a voice thick with drink, half accusation, half reproach.

House Lamberton had put down roots in the southern provinces; he knew nothing of the history between Siena and her.

"Then you should have told me beforehand! What do you even do, anyway? Just gather a pack of women together and squander money on pointless gatherings—tch."

"What is that supposed to mean? Everything I do is for the sake of your business."

"Quiet. Next time you run into her at a salon or a party, play nice and pull some information out of her. And don't... hey. Don't go trailing after the Young Duke Marcel and cooking up strange rumors. Understood?"

Charlotte could not endure the look of doubt in her husband's eyes as he stared her down, and she fled the room.

How had she escaped Siena's shadow in the first place?

It had only been four years. A mere four years!

The hand Charlotte had hidden beneath the folds of her skirt clenched tight. That child—that had been her daughter, hadn't it?

She truly never imagined that Siena, who had done nothing but play Perensa's beautiful puppet, would grow into this.

Charlotte's lips trembled violently at the corner each time her eyes met Siena's, and it was all she could do to speak.

"...Yes. Let's do that."

Charlotte burned with the desire to drag Siena Vice down.

Just as before. Just as her father had toppled Lady Perensa.