Breakfast with the Grand Duke
“I told you, do something about the way you talk.”
Instead of an answer, another scolding came back at her. Apparently there was no point worrying about him, no matter how much effort she put into it.
Well, fine. What did she care whether that man got hurt or not?
Chloe took the slice of fruit she had been handed, dipped it in fermented goat milk, and chewed.
As expected.
Just as she had felt last night, the food was worthy of a grand ducal household. It was delicious.
Chloe, who had gone nearly twenty years skipping breakfast because she had no appetite in the morning, came to a firm conclusion.
Starting today, she was the sort of person who had an appetite even at breakfast.
“Everyone knows I’m from the military anyway, don’t they? No one’s going to criticize my speech.”
“Keep talking like that if you want people saying the grand ducal couple uses stiff military speech even in bed.”
“It wouldn’t be wrong.”
“You really never let anyone have the last word.”
“Am I supposed to let you win?”
Even without explicitly bringing up the first clause of their contract, he seemed to understand exactly what she meant. The man’s lips tugged up faintly at the corners, and he jerked his chin.
“Even if you have no appetite, eat properly. We have a lot to do.”
“I’m eating incredibly well right now.”
Instead of answering, Curtis pushed a plate toward her. It held his portion of soup and a stack of perfectly cooked pancakes.
Chloe stared at it in silence for a moment, then opened her mouth.
“Is poison testing included in my duties?”
“…Do I look as if I pushed my plate over so you could check whether it’s poisoned?”
“Wasn’t that it?”
Then why shove your plate at me when I already have one?
When she looked at him with that exact question in her eyes, Curtis rubbed between his brows and pulled the plate back. Along with a small sigh, she thought she heard something like, “What do you take me for…?”
What else would she take him for? A superior she wanted to beat to a pulp… No, her legal husband now.
And Chloe horrified herself with her own thought.
Good heavens. Husband.
Chloe squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. Then she lifted her bowl of soup and drank it straight down.
Of course, it tasted astonishingly good. But for some reason, unlike a moment ago, she had no room to enjoy the flavor.
It was an act so lacking in dignity one could search for propriety with a lantern and find none. Yet the man across from her did not seem to care in the slightest.
“His Majesty seems intent on continuing with the diplomatic event with Glintland.”
As he spoke, the man pushed a newspaper article toward her.
“Well, the marriage proposal was unofficial business anyway.”
Officially, Isabelle Glintland’s reason for visiting was the commemoration of the twenty-eighth anniversary of diplomatic relations established through Queen Mildred’s royal marriage.
Therefore, regardless of whether the marriage had been canceled, the King apparently intended to push ahead with the diplomatic event.
“It’s better this way.”
“What is?”
“We won’t have to invite people to the mansion for no reason.”
Chloe stared blankly at Curtis.
Curtis, who had been about to take the newspaper back, frowned. Chloe said, dazed,
“Do I need to remind you all over again that I know absolutely nothing about the life of a noble lady?”
“…Ordinarily, married noble couples hold a reception where they invite their friends and introduce each other. It’s a form of socializing, but the point is, we can sweep most of that away at the diplomatic event.”
Surprisingly, Curtis explained it at once without much fuss.
Chloe went, “Ah,” and nodded.
It was only natural for a married couple to invite their friends to their home. And for someone of Curtis’s standing, it would not be just friends. He would likely have to invite most of the high nobles with whom he had dealings at least once.
The problem was, not all of them were close. If there were people he got along with, there were bound to be people he did not.
Once one had to sort out who was intimate and who was not, it would not end in one or two gatherings.
“But if it’s a diplomatic banquet, you can finish it all at once.”
“Hearing you put it that way, I have a feeling it won’t be a very easy event.”
“Obviously.”
The Grand Duke said it as if it were nothing and unfolded the newspaper.
“My brother is probably planning to do something involving you and me there.”
“For example?”
“No idea. We’ll know once we’re in the situation.”
His casual attitude, as though he were talking about someone else’s problem, was perfectly composed. When Chloe blinked at him, the Grand Duke glanced at her and let out a small sigh before continuing.
“My brother has a very long history of tormenting me. His intention is obvious, and I’m sure he’ll try to pull something that day, but you and I speculating back and forth here would be a waste of time. It would be faster to slip a few extra coins to the informants in the palace.”
“Aha.”
She understood immediately.
Hadn’t their marriage itself happened because of the King?
Curtis looked at Chloe and asked,
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
Chloe answered at once.
The Grand Duke lifted his brows as if surprised, then turned his eyes back to the newspaper without saying anything more.
Chloe, too, set her bowl down with a clack and began focusing on emptying the next plate.
At eighteen, Chloe had joined the military out of reckless bravado, and she had never regretted it once. After all, meals had come regularly, and so had pay.
So, her superior unexpectedly becoming her husband was probably not something worth regretting either.
Regretting it now would not undo everything that had happened.
Delicious food was provided, and she had even acquired a personal maid she had never expected in this life.
So instead of wasting time on useless thoughts, she might as well eat something delicious.
She had just thought that and emptied the next plate when Curtis spoke.
“I told the butler to organize the wedding gift list, so once you finish eating, take it and write.”
At Curtis’s words, Chloe blinked.
“I assume you don’t mean I should take the wedding gifts and sell them off at a pawnshop.”
With his gaze still on the newspaper, Curtis smiled with only the corner of his mouth.
“That does sound entertaining, but no. We’ll postpone that amusement until after the divorce. You need to write thank-you letters for the gifts.”
“Ah.”
Only then did Chloe understand what Curtis meant.
Letters from high nobles were often drafted by servants. However, when the recipient was an important figure, etiquette demanded that invitations and letters of thanks alike be written personally.
“Your Grace. I have brought the vase you requested.”
As if on cue, the butler approached with a respectful air, carrying a green vase filled with flowers, and set it down on the cabinet beside the two of them.
Curtis jerked his chin toward it.
“They say Isabelle Glintland sent it.”
“Oh.”
By custom, the mistress of the house received wedding gifts and placed them around the home. But considering who the sender was, it seemed the butler had been concerned as well.
As soon as Curtis had risen, Philip had reported it separately, and the man had ordered that this vase alone be brought to him.
“You’d better write the letter to her first.”
Chloe could guess the omitted words well enough: because it was obvious the King would try to find fault.
She tilted her head and asked,
“…Do people who get rejected usually send wedding gifts?”
At that, Curtis snorted.
“Maybe that’s why it was cheap.”
Chloe looked at the vase anew.
Cheap, he said.
But it was pretty.
The green glass, shining in the sunlight, was cloudy, yet its color looked quite refined.
“I’m sure you’ve written letters for me plenty of times, so I trust this won’t be difficult.”
“That doesn’t matter, but may I write it after I report to the Royal Guard?”
Curtis looked at her as if this were a fresh surprise.
“You’re going to report for duty starting today?”
“Yes.”
Curtis unfolded the newspaper he had folded away and answered.
“I think it would be better if you rested for the time being.”
“Pardon?”
Chloe looked at Curtis suspiciously.
Her eyes said, Do you still have more work left for me at the mansion?
Reading that, Curtis clicked his tongue as if dumbfounded.
“My lady. How long do you intend to live in nightclothes?”
“Ah.”
Come to think of it, she had forgotten.
Chloe looked down at herself in her dressing gown.
The sight of her alternating only between guest clothes and the largest, loosest of Queen Mildred’s garments was indeed rather awkward.
“And I just mentioned the diplomatic banquet. Are you going to attend that in nightclothes? Or in uniform again?”
But still.
Chloe voiced the question she had been harboring for several days.
“Aren’t those the sort of things someone buys for you?”
“Who?”
“Servants…?”
Curtis’s expression grew even more pitying.
“What Grand Duchess in the world wears clothes her servants bought for her?”
“Er, don’t they? Even Her Highness the Crown Princess…”
Chloe remembered reading an article that said Lady Lotted, one of the crown princess’s ladies-in-waiting, was in charge of the Crown Princess’s wardrobe.
With a single sigh, Curtis informed her that something about her understanding was wrong. He also rang the bell and summoned Julia, who had been waiting outside.
After hearing the circumstances, Julia forced a smile.
“The specialty of the Lotted family’s domain has long been beautiful jacquard cloth. Lady Lotted is a noblewoman famous for her excellent eye.”
“I can’t leave it to you, Julia?”
“I can accompany you to meet the dressmakers, but…”
Right. No.
At Julia’s words, Chloe felt a little lost.
Understandably so. It had been far too long since she had bought clothes with her own money.
What did Julia’s words mean? They meant the Grand Duchess herself had to choose the fabrics and designs with her own eye.
If not that, then she needed some other noble with excellent taste.
“Don’t you have friends?”
At Curtis’s question, which came at just the right moment, Chloe replied curtly,
“I have plenty of men I rolled around with in the Royal Guard.”
“My Grand Duchess seems to have many male friends. The reporters will love that.”
“Is that not allowed?”
“It’s not forbidden. But a male friend cannot choose your clothes.”
She had not expected that to work either.
Chloe sighed.
Watching her, Curtis snapped his fingers to draw her attention.
“Let’s do this. Have you ever been to Papetin Street?”
Papetin Street.
It was a district lined with high-end shops where only the wealthiest people in Ibanes came and went.
“Exactly twice. Once to buy sweets. The second time to receive sweets as a gift.”
“On a salary of forty thousand sing?”
Chloe glared at Curtis, who was jeering at her.
Curtis, whether she glared or not, was completely unfazed.
“Go there and choose. If you look at all sorts of things, you’ll start to understand what’s good and what’s bad.”
“That’s not something that happens overnight.”
“I know.”
Curtis laced his fingers together, propped his chin on them, and smiled.
“I don’t have high expectations. Just try choosing. For the time being, whatever you spend won’t be counted against the Grand Duchess’s stipend for maintaining dignity.”
The sight was distinctly irritating.
Chloe narrowed her eyes and stared hard at Curtis.
“What will you do if I run the grand ducal household into the ground?”
“I don’t expect that much from someone who lived on a salary of forty thousand sing.”
Meaning, how much could she possibly spend?
“As far as I know, your sisters didn’t bring many clothes either. If you’re going anyway, take them with you. I’ll call an escort.”
He had even included Leah and Iris.
Apparently, he truly believed she would not be able to spend much.
I’ll have to show him.
Chloe thought that as she inhaled her breakfast.
Ezra, the 2nd Squad Leader of the Ivanes Royal Guard, opened his mouth.
“What is that?”
Philip, the butler of the Berk Ducal Residence, blinked.
“Do you not know? That signifies that His Grace the Grand Duke’s marriage was formally consummated…”
“…I know! I know!”
Ezra flailed.
But no amount of flailing on his part could make the outrageous object hanging from the Berk Ducal Residence disappear.
Ezra squeezed his eyes shut.
What in the world is that supposed to be?