The Hired Woman
An employer. The man who had hired her. The man who had bestowed the name of Berk upon Chloe Amboise to make her an umbrella to shield him from the mud, or a decoy to draw the enemy's fire.
That very man now gripped her shoulder. He wasn't trying to stop her. Speak, his touch said. I won't stop you.
Unlike when he had declared their marriage before the King, he didn't even meet her eyes. He didn't utter a word. Yet, strangely, even without the aid of military ventriloquism, she understood. Defend yourself. You have my permission.
The man standing beside her felt like a reassuring ally. Chloe opened her mouth.
"That I had the audacity to sell a wedding gift from Glintland—a piece akin to a national treasure—to a street fence."
"I wouldn't go so far as to say..." Isabelle pretended to demur, but Chloe ignored her entirely.
"And the reason? Because I am the daughter of a penniless family, so my eyes turned greedy at the sight of something precious?"
"..."
"And because I despise the Duchess of Glintland, who sent the gift, as a romantic rival?"
A laugh bubbled up inside her. She wanted to ask the King: If, as you say, you've been royalty since birth, why is your class so utterly lacking?
She had been a proud soldier of Ivanes, working to support her family. That was all. Yet to some, that very fact served as ammunition to insult her.
Others might do so, sure. But Your Majesty? You, of all people, should know better.
"I..." It was then that a piercingly high voice cut in.
"I've listened and listened, and this is just absurd! Auntie! I saw everything!"
The tension shattered instantly. Everyone in the room turned around in surprise. Pushing her way through the crowd was a familiar face. Agathe. It was Agathe Montpis.
"Ah, Lady Montpis." Instead of reprimanding the young lady of the Montpis family for her sudden, rude intrusion, the King welcomed her with a bright face.
The King was well aware of what she had done years ago out of her unrequited love for Curtis Shan Berk.
Furthermore, Agathe Montpis had been mentioned in the report from a few days ago regarding Curtis Shan Berk's apparent discourtesy toward the Marquise of Flandre.
Naturally, the King believed Agathe Montpis would slander the Grand Duchess or offer testimony to that effect. Many others in the room assumed the same.
"Agathe!" Countess Montpis flailed in panic, trying to hold her back, but it was no use. The Countess's face turned pale.
Just as the memories of three years ago were finally fading, if Agathe stepped forward to slander the Grand Duchess now, the list of suitors for the young Lady Montpis would become exceedingly bleak.
But Agathe, completely indifferent to her mother's distress, spoke in a loud, clear voice.
"I saw it. By 'fence,' you mean the antique shop behind Papetin Street, don't you? I don't remember the exact name, but I know it started with 'Jean.'"
The King grinned broadly. "It hangs a sign reading 'Jean Claire.'"
This was the moment his petty withholding of ice from the Marquise of Flandre, forcing her to endure the heat, bore fruit. The King looked at his sister with a smug, satisfied expression.
He fully expected the young Lady Montpis to drive the final nail into the coffin, confirming that the Grand Duchess had indeed committed such a base act.
However, the moment he saw the Marquise of Flandre's bewildered expression, the King realized something was amiss.
Furthermore, Agathe, who couldn't care less about the expectations of the King who had welcomed her so warmly, looked straight at him and shattered those hopes entirely.
"Yes. Jean Claire. At that antique shop, I saw the Duchess of Glintland."
"Lady Montpis!"
"And it was the very afternoon after the Grand Ducal wedding. I believe Your Majesty can easily deduce what that implies."
Isabelle's face froze. No matter how skilled a glassmaker might be, they could not replicate a luxury item of that caliber in a single day. Even considering the date the gift was delivered to the Grand Duchess, there simply hadn't been enough time to manufacture and sell a counterfeit.
She saw me? Me? Isabelle ground her teeth. She was certain she had shaken off any tails.
It was common knowledge that noble ladies rarely woke up early, which was precisely why she had slipped out at dawn.
Isabelle's mind raced. Agathe Montpis. Agathe Montpis... Fortunately, the King of Ivanes bought her some time.
"Could you not have mistaken her, Lady Montpis?"
"Your Majesty." Agathe Montpis placed her hand lightly over her heart and bowed. It was not the greeting of a noble lady, but the informal salute of the Royal Guard.
"I speak as Sergeant Montpis of the Royal Guard. I personally witnessed the Duchess of Glintland conversing with the owner at the antique shop, Jean Claire."
"Could it not have been a misunderstanding?" Isabelle cut in with a soft smile. Agathe regarded her with cold eyes.
"With all due respect, Your Grace possesses a beauty that is hard to forget, even after a single glance."
"Thank you for the compliment. But, Miss Montpis... your name sounds terribly familiar. Am I correct?"
"..." Agathe shut her mouth instantly. Isabelle smiled radiantly.
It was an incredibly lovely, gentle smile. If an angel existed on earth, surely they would look like this.
"Forgive me. As someone who was once in marriage negotiations with Grand Duke Berk, I couldn't help but learn your name."
The subtext was clear: You're in love with Grand Duke Berk, so why are you suddenly taking the Grand Duchess's side? The jab hit its mark perfectly. Yet, to everyone's dismay, Isabelle did not seem intent on stopping there.
"Hmm..." Isabelle rested a hand against her cheek, her eyes calculating. You wouldn't dare say more, would you? Agathe glared at her, as if reading the unspoken threat. Isabelle merely smiled in response and spoke.
"Were you seventeen at the time?"
"Stop..."
"In your youthful naivety, you lied to your friends that you were engaged to Grand Duke Berk, only to end up crying and proposing to him at a banquet. It was such a darling story that it even became a minor topic of conversation back in Glintland."
She actually said it...She went there... Everyone in the room suddenly wished they could vanish. Agathe's face flushed a violent crimson.
"I never lied! The rumors were just distorted..."
"But the part about you crying while proposing wasn't distorted, was it?"
Agathe's eyes welled with tears. She had been a mere seventeen-year-old back then.
She had fallen head over heels for her older brother's friend, Curtis Shan Berk. He had returned victorious from the battlefield, but with no comfortable place to rest at the ducal residence, he had stayed at the Montpis estate for a few days. What seventeen-year-old girl wouldn't fall for him?
“You know, I'm definitely going to marry Grand Duke Berk someday.” The secret she had whispered to her friends had morphed into “Did you hear Agathe Montpis is engaged to Grand Duke Berk?” in the blink of an eye.
In truth, it was the kind of silly rumor that easily bred among young girls. And the circumstances had been all too perfect: the Grand Duke staying at the Montpis estate, and the beloved youngest daughter of the house.
Hearing the distorted rumor at a tea party, Countess Montpis had been flustered, but she also thought, “Since things have come to this, why not propose a match to Grand Duke Berk?” Aside from his rivalry with the King, the Grand Duke was an exceptionally fine catch.
Considering the Montpis family belonged to the Royalist Faction, she calculated that the Grand Duke might agree to an engagement with Agathe as a way to appease the King. It was a naive assumption.
At the victory banquet, when the Grand Duke heard of it, he simply replied, “I have never heard of such a thing.” Agathe had been standing right there.
In the end, with tears pooling in her eyes, Agathe had been forced to say before everyone, “My apologies. It seems my feelings for His Grace, Grand Duke Berk, were misconstrued.”
“I see. That must have been difficult for you, Miss Montpis. It is quite alright. I am truly grateful for your feelings.” Surprisingly, the Grand Duke had replied gently.
Looking back, he had only been showing consideration for his friend's younger sister, not because he found Agathe endearing or lovely.
But those words from her first love had sent the seventeen-year-old's heart into a frenzy. “Th-then... could you not consider me... as a potential partner, Your Grace?” In the end, Agathe had blurted it out in front of everyone.
She had been clinging to her mother's words: “Well, it might be a good way for the Grand Duke to show he is bowing to His Majesty by choosing you.”
Unfortunately, Curtis had rejected her flatly. “That will never happen, Miss Montpis. And out of respect for my friendship with Noel, this is as far as my consideration goes.”
She had wept so bitterly upon hearing that answer. Naturally, she became a public laughingstock. A young lady begging a man for marriage!
After that incident, Agathe's personality had grown sharp and defensive. People only stopped whispering once she began throwing the weight of the Montpis family around. The gossip had only recently died down.
And even though it had settled, the memory remained a deep, painful scar. To have it dragged out like this, in this manner...
It was then. Someone grabbed Agathe's hand firmly. Then, she spoke in a loud, clear voice.
"Duchess of Glintland. Do not be so vile."
Chloe Le David Berk. The absolute last person on earth Agathe Montpis ever wanted to be associated with.