TTCF 69

A few days ago, Yvonne attended a social gathering and happened to see a group of noble young ladies laughing and chatting together.

‘Well, look who’s here?’

She wasn’t exactly close to them—acquaintances at best—but she recognized their faces. Since this particular gathering was quite large, many people had been invited, and thanks to the Chalon family’s long-standing social connections, Yvonne had plenty of circles she could mingle with.

The problem was that, in Yvonne’s opinion, this particular group wasn’t exactly of good character. They were known for taking pleasure in “initiating” newly debuted young ladies into society—usually through humiliation or mockery. Whenever they gathered and whispered like that, something scandalous inevitably followed.

‘Who are they targeting this time?’

No new debutantes had appeared recently, so Yvonne couldn’t guess who their next victim would be. But her instincts told her that if she found out, it would make for an amusing show.

Like a curious child stumbling upon something fun, she crept closer to eavesdrop.

“That sounds fun. I’m in.”
“Won’t Lady Clerech dislike it? She made such a fuss last time.”
“Oh, come on. After she got humiliated by Lady Anette like that, do you really think she’ll defend her again? If anything, she’ll thank us for doing this.”

Yvonne had planned to listen only briefly, but the moment she heard the names Anette and Clerech, her curiosity deepened.

‘That’s right—wasn’t there that rumor about Lady Anette storming out of Clerech’s tea party?’

She was well-informed when it came to gossip and had, of course, heard all about the incident. The tea parties hosted by the Marquess of Groteer’s daughter, Lady Clerech, were exclusive events—only her closest companions and a few specially invited guests could attend. Yvonne herself had never been invited, and among noble ladies, receiving such an invitation was a mark of prestige.

So for Clerech to invite Anette—a near stranger—to that kind of tea party had been a blatant gesture of friendship. And yet, Anette had reportedly stormed out in the middle of it—after exchanging harsh words with Clerech, who had tried to stop her.

“Last time, the situation was small and we had to let it go, but this time’s different.”
“Acting so rudely in public—unforgivable. She’s not that young; she should know the basic etiquette of society by now.”
“Should we inform Lady Clerech?”
“No. Lady Clerech is too kind… it’s better not to bother her with this.”
“Right. Let’s keep it secret—for our own reputations.”

Well, well… they actually care about their reputations now?

Yvonne sneered inwardly. Despite their talk of Clerech’s kindness and their own good names, the meaning was simple—they were planning a cruel prank. But since Clerech might defend the target and make things messy, they wanted to keep her out of it.

“Normally, I wouldn’t care, but since Lady Clerech’s tea party is the setting, we should be a little careful.”
“As long as we don’t overdo it, it’ll be fine.”

They laughed and soon moved on to another topic, never imagining that someone had overheard everything.

‘No wonder they’re gossiping so openly.’

Yvonne realized why they were so careless—their target, Anette, had no allies in high society. When they preyed on new debutantes, there was never anyone to warn them. It was their usual method.

This time, however, the ever-observant Yvonne had caught them red-handed.

The moment she returned home, she sent her RSVP to Lady Clerech, accepting the invitation to the tea party.

At first, she hadn’t planned to go. Clerech likely hadn’t expected her to, either—she’d only sent the invitation out of courtesy, given that the Chalon family was influential and socially active.

‘Mabel said Lady Anette’s actually a decent person…’

Yvonne glanced at Anette from behind Daniel’s shoulder, recalling a conversation she’d had with Mabel not long ago.

[Lady Anette is really kind, Yvonne.]

Yvonne, however, didn’t trust Mabel’s judgment of people in the slightest.

Knowing this, Mabel had hurried to explain before Yvonne could give her the usual skeptical look.

[I’m serious this time, Yvonne. Really.]
[You said the same thing about Clerech Groteer, remember?]
[Well… I still don’t get why you dislike Lady Clerech so much…]
[You just lost about 80% of your credibility, but go on.]

Mabel had looked genuinely wronged but continued her defense.

[If you don’t believe me, how about my brother? Even he likes Lady Anette. I’ve seen them talk together many times.]
[…Really? Sir Shimoren?]
[Yes! I’ve never seen him talk that much to anyone before.]

If not for that last part, Yvonne probably wouldn’t have bothered to meet Anette at all.

Because from Mabel’s own stories, Anette didn’t sound particularly nice.

[Lady Anette can be a little cold, but she’s never unreasonable. She accepts everything I suggest and never makes trouble. She’s the easiest person I’ve ever served—and sometimes, she can even be gentle.]

Yvonne had almost replied that even a hedgehog doesn’t show its quills to its own young—but she’d stopped herself, not wanting to hurt Mabel’s feelings.

‘Of course, I still don’t really trust her words…’

But anyone who had publicly humiliated that fake Clerech deserved a closer look.

After all, as the saying goes—the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

‘I’ll get close to her at the tea party.’

Yvonne decided to keep this juicy bit of gossip to herself until the perfect moment, planning to use it to approach Anette. Once she got close, she was confident she could win her over easily.

And from the looks of it today, Anette seemed like someone who could be useful in more ways than one.

‘His Majesty really seems to like Lady Anette.’

The emperor’s expression was almost unrecognizable. Anyone seeing him now would never believe how cold and ruthless he usually was.

Yvonne didn’t know what the two were talking about, but the way they looked at each other—smiling, whispering—it was as if they were in a world of their own.

It clearly wasn’t just because Anette resembled his dead first love a little. No man could wear that kind of tender expression just for that reason.

Considering that the emperor hadn’t always been so gentle toward her, Yvonne could tell that this newfound softness was Anette’s doing.

How on earth did she manage that?

‘Maybe Lady Anette could give me advice on how to attract this idiot.’

That idiot being Daniel Craon—tall as a tree, broad-shouldered, handsome, and utterly clueless.

Yvonne smirked at the thought, glancing at him again.

‘Yes. I’ll definitely ask her for romantic advice.’

Completely unaware of the scheming behind him, Lowell took his final step as the music ended, followed by polite applause. As she lifted her skirt slightly and bowed, Peter spoke.

“Excellent.”
“That’s my line.”

Lowell replied dryly, lowering her voice.

“Is your foot all right?”
“Feels broken.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”

Peter chuckled at her retort. Truthfully, Lowell had been surprised the entire dance—first at how terrible her dancing was, and second at how Peter didn’t flinch despite having his foot stepped on countless times.

Her delicate shoes had struck his formal boots again and again, yet he hadn’t winced once—though he did tease her about it.

“Maybe next time we’ll skip the dance entirely. Or hold a ball with no dancing at all.”
“You might as well tell me to collapse at every ball instead.”

She laughed at her own joke as they stepped off the floor, but Peter didn’t laugh this time.

Puzzled, Lowell turned to find his face suddenly serious.

“Don’t ever joke about that.”

Ah. She suddenly remembered—Peter had once come to the estate to recover from a serious illness. And “Lowell Hessen” herself had also been sick once. Perhaps her words had touched an old wound.

His hand gently clasped her thin arm.

“I told you before—you should put on a little more weight.”

Anette had asked earlier if his foot was all right, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to answer honestly.

Because it hadn’t hurt at all.

In fact, every time she stepped on him, he’d been astonished—
because Anette was so light.