Wedding Veils and Unwelcome Guests
Upon arriving at the mansion, Anselm was waiting for them.
Damian leaped down the moment he spotted his twin, rushing over with a worried face.
"Dimi!"
Anselm in his pajamas looked surprisingly cute up close—like a proper nine-year-old boy.
"Thank you for finding Damian. He's scared of thunder."
The maids came and took away the mud-caked Damian, and Anselm offered the greeting in his place.
Finding a missing child was the duty of the household's adults, yet the boy drew a line as if speaking like a man.
Anselm won't be easy.
Ibel, who had decided to target Damian first, headed off to wash up herself. Covered in mud and fallen leaves, she was quite the sight.
"Oh my goodness, your feet are all scratched up. What are we going to do…!"
With Eloi gasping in horror as the last thing she saw, Ibel fell asleep right there in the warm bathtub.
Tap.
Tap.
How many ripples did the water droplets falling from the ends of her hair send across the surface of her sleep?
The door opened quietly, and a man with black hair appeared.
He silently signaled the maid to be quiet and gestured for her to leave.
Approaching without a sound was easier than breathing, so Victor wrapped Ibel in a towel and lifted her out without her stirring even slightly.
"Mm…"
"You did well."
Victor whispered softly as he gazed at her chilled form.
She was light—too light, even.
He wondered if she was eating properly at all.
"Yawn… Vic…tor…"
"Yes. I'm here."
Ibel mumbled something in her sleep-dazed state before drifting off again.
Victor watched her for a moment, as if she hadn't fully emerged from her dreams, then fetched a fresh towel and wrung out the water from her long hair.
His hands were clumsy from lack of practice in such caretaking, but they were gentle enough that she remained asleep.
"Sweet dreams. Thank you."
His presence here today was to remain a secret.
Ibel would be mortified if she knew.
But the maids lacked the strength to carry her, so it couldn't be helped.
Staying too long in cold water after getting caught in the rain would surely lead to a cold.
Muttering excuses to himself for watching over her sleeping form, he rubbed his dry face once and left the bedroom—without so much as a footstep.
"Lately, the hot water lasts longer. Though it'll probably go cold again soon enough."
In one vast room of the Bayern mansion—the twins' bedroom.
Freshly bathed and changed into pajamas, Damian and Anselm lay snuggled together on one bed.
There were naturally two beds, but the boys had preferred sharing since they were little.
Anselm gazed at Damian and whispered softly.
"Don't let her fool you. It's just us. Got it?"
"Uh-huh…"
"That woman's not our mom. Our mom passed away."
The rain had stopped unnoticed, and hazy moonlight filtered through the dark clouds. Anselm clung tightly to his twin in the faint glow.
"It's just us…"
Ever since their romp through the dark woods, a subtle change had come over the mansion.
Damian, who seemed to enjoy being carried, now stretched out his arms begging for a piggyback ride whenever he saw Victor.
It caused minor issues at mealtimes, but they eventually settled on him finishing his food first, then getting the ride.
"What are we to do… looking so injured like this."
Today was the day to choose her wedding dress, but upon seeing Ibel, Mrs. Eberstein couldn't hold back her tears.
Her cheeks, neck, and hands were covered in scratches.
"It'll heal before the wedding, so no issue. The kid got excited and scratched me a bit, that's all."
"Still… on a lady's skin…"
"It's fine."
Reassuring the woman, Ibel surveyed the boxes filling the drawing room. The maids bustled about, pulling out fabrics.
Silk, organdy, lace, fine muslin, and tulle.
A variety of colors too—from pure white to ivory and cream, with subtle variations including shimmering silver silks.
"How about a silk satin base, layered with sheer white organdy on top, decorated with pale pink pearls? Coral ribbons for accents."
"I like it."
Natural pink pearls, and covering the entire skirt? Utterly extravagant. The dress alone would cost at least 400 million cart.
"For the venue flowers, you like orange jasmine, so that, and the bouquet too?"
"Yes."
Mrs. Eberstein was an excellent party planner. With just a few nods, half the wedding preparations were done.
Her skilled hands even allowed her to do fittings, adjusting the brought-along dresses to Ibel's figure to test what suited her best.
"Try the veil I wore too. Let's see which length flatters you most."
Unable to refuse the beaming woman's insistence, Ibel picked the shortest one. It was still long, but matching the skirt's train felt too much.
"Oh, you look beautiful. So lovely. His Grace must see this."
That was when it happened.
A small hand poked out from the half-open drawing room door, followed by Victor appearing with Damian on his back.
"Ah."
Victor's first word upon spotting Ibel in her wedding dress was that—a short exclamation.
Embarrassed for no reason, Ibel moved to remove the veil, but Damian toddled over and hid behind her.
Precisely, under the veil.
"Damian really likes you."
"Guess hiding together in his secret spot last time still counts. He hasn't fully opened up yet, but it's a start."
Their tones were both dry and matter-of-fact to their own ears, but to the watching Mrs. Eberstein, it was different.
"Good heavens, Your Grace carrying a child on his back! A first for me. What happened… practicing to be a father, perhaps?"
"No."
"Not at all."
The two denied it in unison at the woman's fussing.
Not that it mattered; she seemed already lost in her preferred imaginings.
Mrs. Eberstein was about to say more when the sound of a carriage arrived from outside. Then came Genevieve's shrill voice echoing through.
"Come in! Was the journey hard?"
At the suspiciously warm tone, everyone naturally moved to the window.
Stepping from the carriage was a young woman in a soft pink dress.
"She's my guest."
Even without prior discussion with the family head, turning away a guest would tarnish the house's reputation. Victor had her shown to the drawing room first, then summoned Genevieve.
"You said the sponsored exhibition needed more funds. I told you not to spend more, so what could a powerless woman like me do? I had to bring in outside sponsorship."
But Genevieve was brazen.
She inspected her nails as if asking what she'd done wrong, her demeanor somewhat off-kilter.
"Miss Cecily put in 600 million cart for this exhibition. The one condition: an invitation to Bayern lands. The money's already received, and she's here—what choice is there?"
Victor tapped the ebony desk with an expressionless face.
He hadn't planned social gatherings until Ibel was fully prepared. But Cecily Bethel had come here.
Doesn't seem like she knew and planned it…
Cecily Bethel.
Daughter of the railroad magnate, she was currently the most talked-about name in the capital's social circles.
As industrialization accelerated, the imperial family began laying rails across national territories, with her father at the center.
No title, but "Railroad King" made it irrelevant.
For the past five years, social power had come from capital, not bloodlines.
Thus, Cecily Bethel sponsoring the Bayern exhibition wasn't odd.
Genevieve had likely pulled her in for the money.
But the reason she grated on his nerves… was because he could roughly guess why Cecily had come all the way here.
"Next time, get Ibel's permission before inviting guests."