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Chapter: 24
“That’s already been shown.”
The prince whispered, nodding subtly in one direction. Naturally, Natalie’s gaze followed his.
“Anything is possible.”
She saw Dorothy laughing, surrounded by people.
“Who do you think you’re dealing with? You should dream big. And…”
Muttering as if displeased, Natalie lifted her gaze and looked at the prince again. He was now smiling mischievously, furrowing his brows playfully.
“This is fine. From now on, don’t hold back what comes to mind, don’t worry about anyone else. Just like you did just now. Understood?”
The prince was truly an annoying man, but the visual impact of his charming smile was so overwhelming that Natalie’s heart raced, even on the verge of tears. She nodded firmly.
“If you allow me the next dance, everything will begin.”
The prince took a step forward in time with the music. Natalie stepped back.
In a ball, dancing twice with the same partner implicitly meant becoming season partners.
In other words, it was assumed they were a couple with serious marriage prospects.
“From that moment, I’m a madman completely captivated by you. I’ll come to see you every day, all dressed up like a peacock.”
This time he stepped back, and she stepped forward.
“At the end of this season, I’ll propose to you, and we’ll marry before the pheasant hunting season begins. Now, one turn.”
While leading the dance, he explained this important plan, even guiding her movements with ease.
“And a year later, we’ll get divorced. This time, two turns the other way.”
Natalie, turning diligently, instinctively furrowed her brows at the word “divorce.” As a citizen of Grand Batten, she had a reflexive aversion to that word.
“Of course, if you accept me.”
Although he asked her to accept him, anyone could see from his expression that he was in control.
By sheer coincidence, the music was a lively waltz. Perhaps due to the pressure of answering before the song ended, or the frantic chatter of the man in front of her, the melody seemed three times faster than normal.
In short, Natalie’s judgment at that moment was not great.
Time passed swiftly. The music finally ended, and the two faced each other. As Natalie executed the knee bend her body remembered, she couldn’t take her eyes off the prince. He, too, maintained eye contact while offering a light bow.
As other couples separated and left the floor, the prince stepped closer, extending his hand to her as he had at the start.
“Miss Dows, shall we dance one more?”
It seemed as if he was asking, “Are you ready?”
Ah.
This is truly insane, but I really can’t help it.
Natalie of Warfield, a country bumpkin noble of Grand Batten, couldn’t dare defy the prince of this country.
She muttered this excuse to herself.
If she refused, wouldn’t he kill her? The poor citizen had no choice but to take his hand quietly.
Above all, Dorothy could find a husband… her family could be okay.
The answer didn’t come easily, but in truth, it had been decided from the start.
The moment she took his hand, she expected the country to collapse—but surprisingly, nothing happened. No curses flew at her, and the Astier royal family didn’t vanish from history.
Natalie stared blankly at the hand she was holding, then lifted her gaze.
“Nothing will go wrong. I assure you, I’ve never failed.”
At that moment, the prince whispered. His confident expression and voice involuntarily inspired in her a mix of trust, admiration, and jealousy.
“I also know how to respect my partner. I’ll treat you well, so don’t worry.”
It was at that vague thought—perhaps holding the prince’s hand wasn’t such a bad choice—that he prepared for the next dance and said:
“If you’re ready, we’ll start.”
Natalie’s puzzled eyes seemed to ask, Start what? The prince answered cheerfully:
“Act as a man madly in love with Natalie Dows.”
Right. No backing out.
At his last whispered words, Natalie’s face scrunched up.
For three years, she had been shut away in her room like a plant, and he was far too energetic for her to handle.
Meanwhile…
“Mr. Hitton, what’s wrong?”
“Lady Seville, just a moment.”
Roger Hitton murmured, staring blankly at the dance floor.
Normally, he wouldn’t have even been invited to the Duchess of Horace’s ball, much less had a chance to meet her. But through escorting Countess Georgiana Seville, he had managed to attend.
The noblewoman, who never even glanced at him, had suddenly taken interest. So Roger mingled with Georgiana. She introduced him as a young naval lieutenant friend she’d recently made, but people assumed he was her fiancé.
“I just need to greet someone I know.”
Roger instinctively sensed something interesting on the dance floor. He explained this casually to Georgiana, who was quite drunk and laughed merrily, nodding.
Roger began to weave through the crowd to see the figure firsthand. As he did, he finally noticed several couples dancing across the floor.
He accidentally brushed a small lady on the shoulder.
“Excuse me, my lady. I beg your pardon… Aunt?”
“…Oh, Roger?”
“Lady Warfield, Baroness. How did you come here?”
Roger avoided using “Lady Warfield” aloud, conscious of the crowd. Once it was a point of pride that his cousin had a title, but not now. He didn’t want any ridicule.
“…It’s been a long time. How’s your mother? Oh, I’m here as a chaperone with the children.”
The baroness couldn’t be overly cheerful. After receiving an insulting letter from the Hittons over Natalie’s affairs, she had severed ties as she wanted.
“Ah, I see. Mother is well, and I hope you’ve been comfortable as well.”
“I’ve been… managing quietly.”
Quietly? And here you are.
After months of effort, Roger had finally set foot at the ball. He squinted to glance at the baroness. Her dress was surprisingly exquisite—far more refined than most noblewomen.
He asked carefully:
“But… as a chaperone, you mean Dorothy, right?”
“Yes, exactly. And…”
The baroness glanced toward the now lively dance floor and trailed off. Roger’s gaze naturally followed.
“….”
Roger’s face contorted. Though she was no longer his direct superior, it was awkward to see someone of authority here. Moreover, this was the man who enjoyed tormenting him.
Earlier, Roger had subtly avoided the entrance of Prince Ian upon hearing the servants’ announcement. His goal had been to avoid the prince until the ball ended—but here he was, on the dance floor.
What wind brought this?
The prince was notorious for not enjoying parties or dancing. And yet…
That haughty, arrogant man, who only attended parties to escort Princess Charlotte or a foreign princess, was dancing with a middle-aged lady.
Soon, however, Roger realized that despite her mature appearance, the prince’s dance partner was a young lady. Perhaps around twenty, with a fresh, innocent face.
“Who….”
Roger muttered, and his aunt, the baroness, whispered like a secret:
“Actually, Natalie was invited, so Dorothy and I could come together.”
Roger blinked, unable to immediately comprehend her words. A thought flashed through his mind.
Slowly, he followed the baroness’s gaze to the floor.
A young lady in an unusually mature dress. Pale skin, dark eyes and hair, a youthful face.
“Natalie…?”
Impossible. Roger muttered stupidly.
The Morning After
At the Duchess of Horace’s ball, which ran until five in the morning, the second most interesting event was that the queen of the social scene, Dwan, had finally become a chaperone for one young lady.
The lucky young lady was Dorothy Dows, daughter of Baron Warfield.
She stayed at the duke’s West Side annex with her mother, Baroness Warfield, and her sister Natalie Dows.
In time for the late breakfast, the three women gathered one by one in the annex’s dining room.
The table was filled with scrambled eggs, sausages, thinly sliced tomatoes, smoked herring, and tea or coffee. But the clattering of dishes was absent.
The Warfields usually didn’t care much for breakfast. The straightforward baron had no interest in what was considered the pomp of aristocratic life.
Still, the atmosphere at the table was unusually tense.
Natalie quietly eyed the day’s newspaper and household notices neatly placed on the table.
Today, the headlines seemed sharper than usual—perhaps it was just her imagination.
The most interesting event from last night’s ball? Prince Ian had danced twice with the same lady.
