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~Chapter 79~
Riden had spoken brightly, but Mari’s face, though smiling, turned apologetic.
“Thank you so much just for saying that, Riden. But… I’m still too scared to leave the manor. If it’s not urgent, could I rest a few more days first?”
…Ah. I must have rushed things too much.
The thought of shopping with a close friend, chatting about little things, picking out clothes for each other—
Having it so close at hand had made her restless with excitement.
Don’t push her. Mari’s state of mind comes first.
Riden placed her hand gently over Mari’s.
“Of course. There’s no hurry. Just tell me whenever you’re ready.”
“Is this the place?”
Standing before the large glass window of Laria’s atelier, Mari’s eyes widened. She quickly covered her open mouth with both hands in surprise.
After a moment of silent awe, she leaned close and whispered:
“Riden, are you… rich?”
Uh… well, a little?
Even if she did nothing at all, the McCreary County brought in a hefty sum of taxes every year. Plus, the dessert shop added a small but steady income.
Compared to the Kenwolf Dukedom it was modest, but still—a count’s household was a count’s household.
“Not terribly. Just enough that you and I can eat whatever we like and buy whatever we want without worry.”
Her words were humble, but her expression was proud.
Seeing Riden stand tall without a shred of shame at such a question, Mari’s face lit up with relief.
“…Wow. You really did look wealthy from the start!”
Oh? Did I?
Her candid reaction was so cute that Riden chuckled warmly.
The look in Mari’s eyes practically said, So my new friend is rich?
Riden’s shoulders lifted a little higher.
“Shall we go in, then?”
“Yes!”
Ding!
The bell above the door rang as a shop assistant greeted them.
“Welcome. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, under Riden McCreary.”
The assistant disappeared, and soon Laria herself appeared, beaming.
“Lady McCreary!”
“How have you been?”
“Quite well! Ever since you made the reservation, I’ve been waiting eagerly for your visit.”
Her eyes crinkled in a sweet smile, and Riden returned it.
The warmth in Laria’s gaze was the same as if greeting the future mistress of the Kenwolf Dukedom.
But since the contract marriage itself was secret, Riden couldn’t say otherwise.
She smoothly shifted Laria’s attention toward Mari.
“I’m not here for myself. We’re here to fit Lady Hern’s dress.”
“Lady Hern?”
Mari, who had been standing slightly behind, stepped forward with a polite bow.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Mari Hern, daughter of Baron Hern.”
“Ah~”
Laria’s eyes gleamed with understanding as she looked between the two.
The future Duchess of Kenwolf—and her dearest friend!
Clearly, both must become her clients.
With a radiant smile, Laria led them inside.
The familiar space appeared—
The very place where Riden had once encountered Viscountess Florence!
Ugh.
The memory made her shudder briefly as she sat down on the guest sofa.
“Laria, has Viscountess Florence visited again since that time?”
“Of course not~”
Laria winked playfully.
“After such humiliation, would she dare come back? Ah, but I did hear rumors.”
“Rumors?”
Handing a catalog to Mari, Laria continued:
“She had dresses made at another atelier, but… haah. Not only was her attitude awful, she didn’t even pay for them. Then one day, she suddenly settled all the debts at once, they say.”
“So that’s the rumor.”
So she found another fool to exploit?
Suppressing her distaste, Riden smiled politely and steered the conversation away.
Gossip about useless people wasn’t as important as Mari’s dress.
Together, they flipped through the catalog.
“Mari, how about this one with lots of frills? I think it would look wonderful on you.”
It was a voluminous dress adorned with delicate, charming frills.
Mari’s eyes sparkled as though she had been waiting for this.
“It’s adorable. I think it’ll be perfect.”
“Debutante dresses should mainly be white, but a touch of color is fine. Shall we add pink as an accent? To match your hair?”
Mari nodded eagerly.
“Mari agrees!”
Her enthusiastic response made Riden laugh softly.
“Mari, why don’t you give some opinions too?”
“How can I, when I’d much rather listen to the taste of my rich friend?”
Mari said it so plainly that Riden found her impossible to dislike.
“Besides, everything you pick out is just beautiful.”
As expected of my heroine—refreshing and straightforward, accepting what’s given and showing gratitude when needed.
They continued making choices—measurements, hair accessories, shoe designs.
Finally, after Riden prepaid for the dress, Mari—already waiting outside the shop—bowed with exaggerated seriousness.
“Thank you, my friend. I’ll have the happiest debutante ball ever thanks to you!”
“Ah, honestly… must you keep saying that?”
“I can’t help it—I just want to keep expressing how happy I am! Wow, I can’t wait.”
Glancing around to be sure no one was listening, Mari whispered:
“At the ball, I’ll meet him, right? The one who’ll love me forever.”
Riden stiffened at those words.
It was such a heroine‑like line—and it came from the heroine herself.
She met Mari’s eyes with certainty.
“You will, Mari. I guarantee—”
But the memory of Ethan’s words about making a wish flashed in her mind, cutting her off.
Why am I thinking of him now?
Shaking her head, she finished firmly:
“I guarantee it!”
“Do you think so? Hearing you say it, it really feels like it’ll come true. But I think you’ll meet yours first, Riden!”
They exchanged competitive smiles before climbing into the waiting carriage.
“My lady.”
They had just arrived back at the count’s estate.
Glen, waiting to greet them, wore a distinctly uneasy expression.
“Glen? Are you unwell?”
He cast a sideways glance at Mari, who was sticking close to Riden.
“My lady, may I have a word with you—alone?”
“Of course.”
Riden turned to Mari.
“Mari, would you go ahead upstairs? I’ll be right behind you.”
“Yes!”
Once Mari was out of earshot, Glen leaned in and whispered urgently.
“My lady, Baron Mackie and Young Master Percival have come to visit.”
Baron Mackie.
He was the one who had been sending letters insisting on visiting ever since Riden had stayed at the ducal estate.
Through Glen, Riden had already sent polite refusals more than once.
And yet he had come uninvited?
Just as expected.
Reginald Mackie and his son, Percival.
The Mackie barony was a branch of the McCreary countship, appearing only briefly in the original story.
“Where are they now?”
Glen shot an annoyed look toward the main house.
“I told them you were away, my lady, but they refused to leave… so they are waiting in the drawing room.”
Their purpose was obvious.
In the original, after the McCreary Count and Countess died in an accident, Baron Mackie schemed to marry Riden into his family, aiming to seize the countship’s fortune.
But in the story, they didn’t approach until much later.
To them, Riden was a naïve, vain girl who had never left her county until she came of age.
They knew nothing of her contract with the Kenwolf Dukedom.
So they believed pressuring her into marriage would be simple—and originally, they had begun their approach after her debut.
Riden had reported them to the Duke, and he had swiftly crushed them.
This time, though, rumors of my connection to the ducal house must have rattled them enough to rush here.
Even though I’d already declined, citing how busy I was with preparations.
I’d like to charge them with trespassing.
“They’re in the drawing room?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll go. Thank you for telling me.”
With Glen leading the way, Riden headed toward the drawing room.
