TPB 14

Chapter: 14

The style of sweeping her abundant brown hair up high while leaving a soft curl at the nape of her neck was the trademark of Duchess Horace, a celebrated figure in Duane’s social circles.

“Catherine.”

Aster Horace called softly to his wife. Catherine, who had been gracefully cutting into her pale veal, slowly lifted her gaze.

With her sharp, long nose, she was praised as a classical beauty and had begun to gain popularity in high society. At the same time, her cool blue-gray eyes lent her a uniquely provocative, mysterious air.

“Ian is looking for a bride.”

Catherine’s knife stopped. She blinked her round eyes a few times, then murmured as if to herself,

“…It was about time.”

The season Catherine had first stepped into society had coincided with Prince Ian’s heyday, when he frequently appeared at balls as the escort to his twin sister, Charlotte.

It was no exaggeration to say that every debutante of that season had fallen in love with Ian at least once. Catherine was no exception.

She had two sons and had more than fulfilled her duties as a noble lady. As a result, she had gained a certain degree of freedom. A woman of her standing could now keep a discreet lover if she wished, and no one dared openly gossip about her private affairs.

And yet, merely hearing that Ian was seeking a bride left her unsettled. That much surprised even herself. First love truly was something else.

“Ian wants you to find him a suitable bride.”

Catherine slowly set her cutlery down. A slight frown creased her brow as she spoke with a twisted smile.

“Oh my, you flatter me too much. Surely that’s a joke unworthy of you?”

To be asked to personally find a bride for the man she had once adored was hardly a pleasant request. More than that, it made no sense. No matter how influential she was, how could she possibly know foreign princesses?

“Do you happen to know any noble young ladies in Grand Batten who come from families drowning in debt, or whose direct line has died out so their inheritance is about to pass to a distant relative—girls on the brink of being turned out onto the streets, with poor reputations to boot?”

“…What kind of idiotic nonsense is that?”

At last, Catherine’s beautiful face twisted openly in irritation.

Aster had no desire to spout such absurd drivel over a meal. If Grand Batten truly were to collapse because of this, he would be the one who wanted to weep most of all.

Tap, tap.

Light footsteps drew closer. In the middle of the day, Natalie—lying motionless on her bed as if dead—slowly opened her eyes at the sound.

There was only one person who would come to the most secluded room on the second floor. Natalie let out a sigh in advance.

“Big sister….”

As expected.

No sooner had her long sigh ended than the door creaked open, and a small voice called her name.

“Alex, I told you not to come into my room.”

Covering her face with one hand, Natalie muttered irritably. Unbothered, Alex scampered to the head of the bed, buried his cheek into the sheets, and began to whine.

“You’re sleeping again?”

“I’ll play with you later. Just go out for now.”

“Pfft, it’s always ‘later.’ You don’t do anything but lie around!”

That’s true—but then why did he keep coming to the room of a sister who couldn’t even play with him properly?

Of course, Natalie understood the restlessness of someone wandering around in search of amusement out of sheer boredom. She herself had been the same at Alex’s age.

“Go on. Before Mother starts screaming again.”

No matter how bored he was, her room was now forbidden territory.

After the David trial, Baroness Warfield had come to believe her eldest daughter had gone mad.

Fearing that young Alex might be influenced by Natalie, she nearly fainted whenever she saw the two together. Just a few days earlier, she had witnessed the siblings chatting quietly and caused a terrible scene.

Natalie kept her distance from Alex of her own accord.

But the boy, still too young to understand his disgraced sister’s situation, felt only hurt and resentful. Pouting, Alex muttered,

“But talking with Natalie is the most fun.”

“……”

“And downstairs, Dorothy’s throwing another hysterical fit. If I run into her, she’ll just take it out on me again….”

At the mention of Dorothy, Natalie unconsciously pressed her lips together.

Dorothy had been the baby of the family until the age of nine, indulged in every whim—until Alex was suddenly born and took her place. Despite the age gap, she constantly fought with her younger brother.

Then, after making her debut in society last year, she began having hysterical outbursts.

“Alex! You little brat—are the nobles of Duane looking down on me, and now you are too?!”

Whenever Dorothy flew into one of her rages, clever Alex knew to avoid his demon-possessed youngest sister.

“…Where did you even learn the word ‘hysterical’?”

Natalie murmured, trying to hide her agitation. Alex stared straight at her, his expression clearly saying, Who else but you? Natalie cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Anyway, Dorothy never comes into this room. Just hide me here for a bit.”

This time, Natalie blinked as if she’d been struck from behind.

Three years had passed since the David trial. In those three years, Dorothy had come to see Natalie only once. It was as if Natalie didn’t exist—or as if she wished she didn’t.

Natalie Dawes’s world was still in ruins.

David. Natalie Dawes. The Baron’s daughter of Warfield.

Escaping a prison sentence had done nothing to save her reputation. Though her names gradually faded from public memory, the stain once branded upon her seemed eternal.

When Natalie fled Duane like a fugitive after the trial, one voice among the crowd gathered at the station had pierced her ears especially sharply:

“So the Dawes family will never set foot in Duane again, right? No—if it were me, I wouldn’t even step outside the baron’s estate!”

Just as those words foretold, Natalie hadn’t left the estate grounds for three years. No one had imprisoned her; she had locked herself away to escape people’s gazes and pointing fingers.

Most of the Warfield household did the same. Unless absolutely necessary, they never left the manor.

The gates of the reclusive Warfield estate finally opened again last year, because Dorothy—having turned eighteen—could no longer delay her debut.

Dorothy managed to debut successfully last year, thanks to Bianca’s help with her husband’s permission. But the Countess of Rutherford’s influence extended no further than that.

Dorothy was beautiful and lively, the sort of girl anyone would notice—yet she was welcomed nowhere. People remembered the names Warfield and Dawes all too well. Forget finding a husband; even forming connections was impossible.

Natalie recalled Dorothy returning to Warfield after the social season, sobbing bitterly as she hurled her resentment at her.

“Do you know how much humiliation I went through at my debut because of you? Natalie, you ruined my life. You ruined it beyond repair!”

It had been the most miserable, heartbreaking moment since her identity was revealed.

Time that felt unbearably painful passed nonetheless, and once again the social season in Duane arrived. But the disaster was not over.

In her second season, Dorothy couldn’t even go to Duane.

That winter, news arrived that Bianca was pregnant with her second child and would be staying on her estate throughout the upcoming season. That alone ruined everything.

No one sent Dorothy an invitation. She had no connections to serve as chaperone, and no money to secure lodgings for the duration of the season. She couldn’t go.

That was why Dorothy had been so sharp lately—and why the atmosphere in the manor was so tense.

Natalie wasn’t the only one isolated once again.

If only the family could somehow get better.

Natalie felt like biting down hard on her tongue. She didn’t care what became of her own fall. Watching her family suffer was far harder to endure.

If Dorothy could just find a husband and marry safely, I wouldn’t ask for anything more.

These days truly felt like a nightmare.

“Natalie, you’re so pale. Does your head hurt again?”

A worried voice broke through her distant thoughts. Turning instinctively toward the sound, she saw Alex looking at her with anxious eyes.

The young boy seemed to believe his eldest sister was ill—that was why she rarely left her room.

“I’m sorry,” Natalie whispered.

It’s all my fault. I’m sorry for turning the house into this, for making even you walk on eggshells.

“Alex.”

The guilt of having personally destroyed what had once been a fairly warm family weighed heavily on her.

“I really will play with you next time.”

In this nightmare where she had nowhere left to stand, Alex was the only one who treated her as he always had. And yet, that very innocence frightened her most.

Once you learn what ‘a lady’s disgrace’ means, you’ll despise me too. You’ll hate me.

She didn’t know when Alex would learn the truth. Fear of that moment made her keep her distance.

The kind boy didn’t press his supposedly sick sister any further. He wished her a quick recovery and stepped away from the bedside.

“Come to think of it, there isn’t a single book left. Your room used to have more books than Father’s study.”

As he was about to leave, Alex glanced around the room and murmured.

A moment later—click—the door closed, and the seemingly peaceful silence returned.

Books.

Books frightened her now. She could no longer read them—and certainly could not write.

“…What if he actually knows everything already, and still acts like that?”

Natalie felt her head truly begin to ache.