Chapter 60
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Tea Party (4)
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At least when it came to looks, Cordelia had never felt inferior to anyone else. She had always been the center of attention, drawing every eye in the room.
But not now. A single, brilliantly blooming rose was the star of this gathering.
'Why.'
The Dane Schmichael she knew wouldn't give a damn what dress his wife wore or where she went.
'Nothing in this family is permitted to the wife.'
He wouldn't have provided dresses or carriages, or even shown a shred of interest. Just as he had done with her.
So Cordelia had expected to see Rose with a gloomy face today. She thought she'd pity her, thinking, You're just like me.
But that...
"My goodness. It looks like Duke Schmichael is desperate to win his wife's affections."
"When a man falls in love, he throws caution to the wind."
"Look at that necklace. You could buy several dresses with the price of just that one."
The noble ladies seemed to notice it too, whispering in tones of disbelief.
'No way.'
That man would never be affectionate to anyone.
So that appearance must be Rose Schmichael arbitrarily using the family's wealth under the pretext of her position as duchess.
Facing this unbelievable reality, Cordelia's mind raced. She tried to come up with a plausible excuse to convince herself.
What shattered Cordelia's self-justification were the noble ladies beside her.
"What about that dress? It's a design I've never seen before..."
"Oh my god. I know what it is. That's from Lucessi Atelier!"
"What?!"
A few sharp-eyed noblewomen recognized it immediately.
Lucessi always left a mark that identified her atelier's designs. Sometimes it was a distinctive pattern, other times a unique color combination.
In this case, it was a pattern. Delicate gold thread embroidered along the neckline sparkled every time it caught the light.
"Hasn't Lucessi Atelier released their new winter collection yet? I haven't received mine."
"Does that mean that's the winter new release?"
Rose was the only one here wearing a dress from Lucessi Atelier.
Lucessi was notoriously proud and busy, refusing to come at just anyone's summons. Unless, perhaps, it was for the master of House Schmichael.
Grip.
Cordelia clutched her dress without realizing it. Wrinkles formed in the carefully ironed fabric, but she had no time to care.
She forced her eyes away from Rose, who looked for all the world like Dane was shouting that this woman was his.
"Please, take a seat here."
Countess Holland guided Rose to her place.
To the central table where the fireplace burned warmly—right next to her own seat, no less.
She had placed Rose in the seat of honor.
"May the blessings of winter be with you all."
And with that, the tea party began.
"The longer the nights grow in this season, the more we need each other's warmth."
The maids of House Holland began setting out hot tea, honey-glazed nuts, lightly baked biscuits, and more.
"..."
The noblewomen exchanged glances, gauging each other.
Who would take the lead in steering this tea party?
The one who broached the next topic was none other than...
"How are things in your territories this winter?"
Rose Schmichael.
"This winter, we're sharing supplies with the monastery and distributing bread. Our grain stores are fairly ample since the harvest wasn't bad this year."
Countess Holland, the hostess herself, responded in kind.
"...!"
"My."
The ladies at the table exchanged meaningful looks.
Until now, no woman bearing the Schmichael name unequivocally had ever engaged in social activities.
For her first step to be with House Holland was tantamount to acknowledging the Schmichaels' longtime allies.
"This year feels colder sooner than last. I had to stock up on firewood for the hearths early."
"It's best to clear the roads ahead of time. Looks like we'll have heavy snow."
The other ladies at the table picked up the thread shrewdly. They were veterans of high society, seasoned through long years.
A noblewoman's social activities couldn't stray from supporting her husband's political base.
They had come here today precisely to gauge the Schmichaels' movements.
"Could this be Duke Schmichael's will?"
"I need to inform my husband right away."
If it had been Rose Vicander who appeared, she would have been easy prey.
A young lady stepping out without her family's backing—especially one whose conduct wasn't entirely proper—was ripe for attack.
But this was Rose Schmichael. And the hostess, Countess Holland, sat right beside her like a protector.
"House Holland manages nearly all the magic tool distribution in the kingdom. This must mean they'll be lending even more support going forward."
"It'd be nice if they gave our house a chance too. Has anyone heard anything?"
The noblewomen murmured cautiously among themselves but didn't dare badmouth Rose.
Those of lower rank than Rose speaking to her first would be rude. More than that, an aura hung in the air that made it hard to treat Rose Schmichael lightly.
They simply kept their ears wide open toward the central table.
"I understand House Schmichael is quite active in philanthropy as well."
At Countess Holland's words, Rose gave a peculiar smile.
"We've recently added one more beneficiary. We're sponsoring the children at the orphanage."
"How generous. It must be the duchess's virtue."
And so the tea party fully revolved around the table where Rose sat.
"My husband succeeded in winter hunting, so we're making a muffler from marten fur."
"Oh, roast lark. That's a real delicacy."
As the main topics wrapped up, the mood shifted to casual chatter. Talk naturally turned to recent daily life, dresses, meals, and the like.
"I'm gradually getting used to Schmichael cuisine. The head chef's skill is truly excellent."
At Rose's words, Viscountess Edvard spoke in a meaningful tone.
"Of course, His Excellency joins you, doesn't he? How delightful that must be."
It sounded natural, but it was actually a sly dig laced with malice.
Everyone knew the previous Schmichael wives had dined alone. This question was meant to force one to hide surging emotions.
"...">
Viscountess Edvard's oddly gleaming eyes said it all.
Come on, admit it. You eat alone too. That was just you pretending to be a beloved wife.
But.
"Of course. We always have dinner together. He keeps urging me to eat more—it's almost troubling."
Rose's reply veered far from Viscountess Edvard's expectations. Her face was serene, showing no sign of lying.
"...I see."
Viscountess Edvard struggled to compose her expression.
The sting of defeat that her rival had gained what she couldn't, the anxiety of seeing someone seemingly inferior surpass her.
From the moment Rose Schmichael had entered the room in her dazzling perfection, the bubbling jealousy had finally overflowed.
"Then naturally, you rise together in the bedroom as well?"
Silence fell over the table in an instant.
Asking about someone's private life in such a setting was a grave rudeness. No, it was tantamount to picking a fight outright.
House Schmichael was in a politically sensitive position. Everyone knew Dane Schmichael had endured countless assassination attempts.
Yet Viscountess Edvard's eyes were rolled back in fury as she hurled the question.
"...">
The others stared at Rose with faces mixed of shock and intrigue. Eyes darted busily over teacups.
It was an open secret that Dane had never shared a bedroom with any wife.
The marriage bed was a wife's reverse scale; previous Schmichael duchesses had always broken down in tears at such questions.
"...">
Rose neither burst into tears nor flew into a rage.
She simply gazed calmly at Viscountess Edvard with an impassive face.
She neither scolded nor rebuked the rudeness, but that quiet stare held a power that made her opponent shrink.
A few seconds of silence tightened the breaths of everyone at the table.
"...Urk."
Viscountess Edvard flushed with shame.
The duchess's silence, joined by the other ladies, created an atmosphere of pressure that was humiliating enough.
She felt utterly subdued.
"I see no need to answer."
Finally, Rose spoke.
"Rising from bed with one's husband is simply a matter of course."
Rose's lips curved gently, but her eyes were chillingly cold.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that question. I know the reason behind it."
Rose briefly lowered her gaze.
An indecipherable light flickered in her eyes—a sense of kinship only those with shared experience could have.
"...But there won't be a second time."
That one sentence struck the table like a judge's gavel.
"Ah..."
Viscountess Edvard paled as realization dawned on what she had done.
"I-I'm sorry."
Business reprisals against House Edvard, her husband's wrath—these began flashing through her mind.
"Please... forgive my rudeness."
Viscountess Edvard trembled pitifully.
Rose said no more.
Glance.
She merely flicked her eyes toward Countess Holland, the hostess. That was enough.
"Viscountess Edvard, you don't look well."
Countess Holland said in a soft but firm tone.
"Perhaps you should head home now?"
It was a clear dismissal. The others' sharp gazes stabbed at Viscountess Edvard.
"...Yes."
Viscountess Edvard couldn't muster a single word of protest.
With a ghostly pale face, she staggered to her feet and left. Her ashen maid hurried after her.