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Chapter 30
Derek stole a glance through the carriage window.
His lips parted as if to speak, but after a moment’s hesitation, he lowered his head.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
He urged his horse closer to the driver’s seat.
The coachman, sensing his presence, turned his head.
“Sir knight, what is it?”
“Well…”
Derek paused at the question.
Click.
Just then, the sound of a window shutting rang out.
Leaning toward the driver so only he could hear, Derek murmured,
“It’s nothing.
Just keep the pace steady.”
“It’s nothing.
Just keep the pace steady.”
Why say that at all?
The coachman cast him a puzzled look, but Derek only urged his horse forward in silence.
Half-asleep, I heard someone calling my name near my ear.
“Amelia.”
At the pleasant low timbre, I nuzzled closer to whatever my head had been resting against.
“Amelia?”
“Mmm…”
“Wake up.
We’ve arrived.”
“Arrived where…?”
“The House of Duke Royce.”
The words jolted me upright.
Thud!
“Ow!”
I’d forgotten we were in a carriage and shot up too fast, smacking the crown of my head against the ceiling.
The pain stung so sharply that my eyes watered.
“Ughhh…”
Groaning, I turned to the side.
Vincent was watching me, his expression a mix of surprise and the effort of holding back laughter.
“I… I must’ve dozed off.”
“Yes, you did.
Shall we get out?”
He quickly turned his head, pushed open the carriage door, and stepped out first.
His shoulders shook suspiciously, and I had a good idea why.
“Ugh…”
Rubbing my throbbing head with one hand, I placed the other in Vincent’s and descended from the carriage.
Standing beside him, I glanced at his shoulder, suddenly uncertain.
I felt like I’d been leaning on something while I slept…
Surely it wasn’t his shoulder?
Logically, there’d been nothing else to rest against inside the carriage, but my mind refused to accept it.
Pushing away my tangled thoughts, I slipped my arm through his and walked into the garden of the Royce estate.
Under the deep night sky, the path into the estate was lined with neatly trimmed trees strung with soft, glowing magical lanterns, casting a mysterious air.
At a glance, the garden was no smaller than that of the Wentworth estate.
Yet the feeling was entirely different.
Duke Wentworth’s gardens, in his love for display, overflowed with colorful flowers and fruit trees, dazzling in their abundance.
By contrast, the Royce gardens prized practicality.
They weren’t flashy, but they radiated a sense of order and refinement.
As the sound of voices grew nearer, I felt my body tense.
And when someone came into view, I instinctively slipped my arm free.
“Oh?”
The young man, too, looked startled at the sight of me.
His expression wasn’t one of delight but of plain disbelief—What are you doing here?
And of course.
He hadn’t invited Amelia Wentworth to this dinner party.
That man was Jais Royce, eldest son of the Duke of Royce, and in truth, the evening’s real host.
Though the invitations had gone out in the duke’s name, etiquette demanded they be sent only to married couples.
In practice, it was Jais who organized everything.
The guest list skewed younger as a result—sons and daughters of noble houses filled the gathering.
“Look, look over there.”
“His Highness the Crown Prince is here!
Who’s the lady beside him?
I don’t recognize her.”
“What are you talking about?
That’s Amelia Wentworth!”
“Oh, it really is!”
“He actually came with her…
How much must he have suffered?”
Somehow, they hadn’t recognized me right away.
Yet even as they realized who I was, their sympathy went straight to Vincent—as though he had endured some ordeal being with me.
It was absurdly unfair.
After all, the one who’d suffered on the way here was me, not Vincent.
All because of those damned jewels!
Jais was approaching, and I could feel his gaze lock firmly on me.
At first, his eyes widened in surprise.
Then slowly, they softened into a gentle arc.
His sharp features had made me nervous, but with a smile, he wasn’t unpleasant at all.
Like Vincent, he seemed skilled at masking his emotions—his warmth almost convincing.
Stopping before me, he extended a hand with courtly grace.
“Welcome, Lady Wentworth.
Thank you for joining my party.”
I set my gloved hand upon his, and he brushed my knuckles with a light kiss.
When I glanced up, our eyes met.
He’d been watching me like that from the start—why?
“You astonish me, Lady Wentworth.
You look especially radiant tonight.
At first, I didn’t recognize you.”
“Thank you, Lord Royce.
It’s an honor to attend such a splendid gathering.”
At my soft reply, I felt the attention of those nearby converge sharply upon us.
Yes.
That really was me who said it.
Amelia would normally forgo greetings altogether, or at best offer a perfunctory nod.
No wonder they were shocked.
Jais finally turned to Vincent.
But Vincent’s expression was strained, his mood visibly sour.
“Your Highness, you’re late.”
“I had some business on the way.”
“You needn’t have come at all.”
“Do you mean that?
Without me, your party would be nothing but dull.”
“I’d rather dullness than have someone else steal all the attention…”
The easy candor of their barbed exchange made it clear they were indeed close.
To speak so flippantly to Vincent took familiarity.
And as if to prove Jais’s words, whispers drifted through the gathering.
“He looks dashing, as always.”
“Yes, though the one beside him is a bit of an eyesore…”
“It’s like a diamond rolling among pebbles.
He shines all on his own.”
In an instant, Jais and the other men became the “pebbles,” glaring at Vincent with thinly veiled envy.
Vincent, of course, remained impervious, surveying the party with imperious calm.
As for the “eyesore,” I—well, I tried to find who had spoken, but the crowd made it impossible.
“But Lady Wentworth…
Doesn’t she seem different tonight?”
“You feel it too?
It’s not just me?”
“Should we try talking to her?
His Highness is only accompanying her, he won’t hover all night.”
“Don’t be foolish.
Her temper’s fierce.
Cross her and you’ll regret it.”
“Hah, true enough.”
How was it that whispers like these always carried straight to my ears amid the din?
I glanced at Vincent.
But with the lights behind him casting his face into shadow, I couldn’t read his expression.
One of the so-called pebbles approached him with a bow.
“Your Highness, over this way…”
At his words, Vincent turned to me.
“Amelia.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Go over there and have something to eat.
I have people I need to speak with first.
I’ll introduce them to you in turn later.”
“All right.”
I agreed easily enough, and his eyes lingered on me for a moment.
When I tilted my head at him, he spun on his heel and strode toward the cluster of “pebbles” who’d been chattering earlier.
“Over here, Your Highness!”
Voices rang out to greet him as I slipped away toward the food.
My stomach was growling and my throat was dry besides.
One must always face battle on a full stomach, after all.
Beneath the moonlight and glowing lamps, long buffet tables stretched across the garden, their white lace cloths fluttering gently in the breeze.
The sight of the dishes made my mouth water.
I carefully picked up a white porcelain plate rimmed with gold.
On silver trays lay pink salmon topped with tartar sauce, and beside them, platters of yellow and white cheeses.
I took the silver tongs and placed a small pile of curled green arugula leaves on my plate, then added a perfectly seared scallop glistening with butter.
I’d half-expected only a scattering of finger foods, but this was a true dinner feast.
What should I try next?
I mused, eyes roaming the spread—when I felt it.
A prickling gaze fixed squarely on me.
Being in Amelia’s body, I was accustomed to stares.
First, food.
Priorities, right?
I meant to ignore it, but the person striding toward me was impossible to disregard.
They radiated nothing short of open hostility.
