Chapter 11
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 11
That his younger twin brother had been chosen by the Imperial Princess to become a Duke was a bitter pill Benedict Kingsley could never quite swallow.
‘That damned Luncheon…!’
His teeth ground together every time the memory resurfaced.
The ‘Luncheon’ hosted quarterly by the Empress was a tedious affair, a place where one was expected to do little more than nod politely at the endless chatter of elderly noblewomen. After accompanying his mother a few times and finding himself utterly drained, Benedict had magnanimously "entrusted" the duty to his younger brother, Rowan.
It was at the very first Luncheon Rowan attended that the grown Imperial Princess made her appearance. Princess Jeremia had come to greet the ladies on the eve of her social debut.
‘If I had gone, I would have been the one to marry her!’
Jeremia had fallen for Rowan at first sight. She made no effort to hide her affections, and the Kingsley family suddenly found themselves sending their second son away to become the Imperial son-in-law.
Because the husband of the Princess—the darling of the Imperial Family—could not remain a mere ‘second son of a Viscount,’ the Late Emperor had bestowed a ducal title upon Rowan.
Of course, Jeremia was the true power behind the Ducal House, but as the saying goes, the position makes the man. Rowan had eventually grown into a figure befitting his elevated status.
“That ducal title is nothing but a facade. Look at him now. In the end, he couldn't refuse the Emperor’s request, went off to the battlefield, and returned as a corpse.”
Benedict tried his best to sound indifferent, but he couldn't hide his greed for the business monopolies held by the Ducal House.
“What matters to us is practical gain. Cedric is nothing but a twenty-five-year-old greenhorn. If we play our cards right and coax him, we’ll be able to wield the power of the Ducal House in his stead.”
“That young one is already quite sly, though, isn’t he?” his son asked.
“He’s just pretending to be. After rolling around on a battlefield only to have the weight of a Dukedom suddenly thrust upon his shoulders, there’s no way he isn’t feeling the pressure. We need to exploit that opening.”
Just as the father and son exchanged predatory glances, a small stir broke out near the entrance. Cedric Kailas had arrived.
Benedict wiped the malice from his face, replacing it with a welcoming mask as he hurried down the stairs.
“Cedric! You’ve come!”
“Uncle.”
Cedric gave a brief, curt nod.
Though Benedict found the gesture arrogant, he couldn't help but be struck by the young man’s presence.
‘He really is a striking fellow. Is this the power of the Imperial bloodline?’
His blonde hair, inherited from his mother, was dazzling, and his reddish-brown eyes—often whispered about as ‘crimson eyes’—were equally captivating. Yet, it wasn't just his features that defined him. Cedric possessed a natural, peerless gravity.
It had been that way since he was a child.
Even without speaking, he dominated the room. He knew how to express lethal anger through a polite smile and never allowed anyone to get too close. Nevertheless, everyone in the room was desperate to exchange even a single word with him.
He was the sun around which the social world orbited. Consequently, any person or family Cedric showed favor to became an instant sensation. Now that he had inherited the title, any business partner he acknowledged would see their status skyrocket.
That was exactly what Benedict was banking on.
‘Right. I’m not flattering him. I’m using him.’
The Kailas family held countless vested interests. If Benedict could exert influence over them, the Kingsley family would rise far above the Ducal House, which he viewed as a hollow shell.
Benedict placed a hand on Cedric’s back, leading him toward his close acquaintances to introduce him. He had deliberately worn clothes tailored in the style Rowan used to prefer; at a glance, it created the haunting illusion that the late Duke had returned to life.
“Seeing you like this, Your Grace and Viscount Kingsley truly are two peas in a pod. But then, he was the Late Duke’s twin, so it’s only natural! Haha!”
“Indeed. It is truly heartbreaking that your father passed, but with Viscount Kingsley by your side, Your Grace must find great comfort.”
Benedict’s cronies spoke as if they had rehearsed their lines, constantly hammering home the resemblance between Benedict and Rowan.
Cedric merely nodded, his smile a thin, practiced mask of politeness. Then, as if he had reached the limit of his patience, he shifted the subject.
“Forgive the interruption, Uncle, but I’ve been working all afternoon and haven’t had so much as a glass of water.”
The comment made Benedict look foolish for dragging him around without offering a drink.
“Oh, dear! Look at me! I was just so glad to see you…”
“The host of a party is always busy. I understand. Please, don't let me keep you from your guests. I need to quench my thirst.”
With a natural grace that brooked no argument, Cedric strode away toward the refreshment table, where champagne bottles sat chilling in ice buckets.
No one dared to approach him as he reached for a bottle and poured a glass himself. In high society, one needed a formal introduction or a very clear purpose to speak to a noble of higher rank. Because the man in question was Cedric Kailas, the guests could only watch from a distance, hoping to catch his eye.
Cedric, well aware of the eyes on him, ignored them all and sipped the chilled champagne.
‘Uncle certainly didn't spare any expense on the catering.’
The quality of the champagne left out for general consumption was excellent. He glanced at the vintage: Rousseau Blair ’53. It wasn't a choice made by an amateur. Since he truly hadn't had a drink all day, the crisp taste was refreshing.
Just as the tension in his chest began to ease, he sensed someone behind him. He was curious who would be bold enough to ignore the invisible boundary he had drawn, but he didn't turn around.
“Excuse me.”
A young woman stepped up beside him, calmly pouring herself a glass. With her dark blonde hair swept up and wearing a trendy striped print dress, she seemed ordinary at first glance.
However, Cedric knew better. And right on cue—
“Oh, my! It’s His Grace, Duke Kailas!”
Her surprised expression was perfectly executed, innocent enough to fool a lesser man. Cedric gave an indifferent nod, acknowledging the greeting without saying a word. After a moment of feigned hesitation, she spoke again.
“Um… I didn't expect to see you here, but if I ever ran into you again, I truly wanted to apologize once more.”
Cedric finally turned his gaze toward her. “Once more? Are we acquainted?”
A flash of embarrassment crossed her face, but she quickly smoothed it over with a shy, practiced smile.
“I’ve been rude; I should have introduced myself first. My name is Bella Listerwell. At the Victory Banquet last May… we met regarding the incident where my cousin stole and wore Your Grace’s brooch…”
“Ah. The Listerwell family.”
A memory he had buried was dragged back into the light. Was this something that needed to be brought up so often? It wasn't a pleasant recollection—a scandal that had garnered more attention than his own father’s death.
“As I said at the time—”
“Of course, Your Grace showed such leniency,” she interrupted. “You have no idea how grateful my father is. My cousin, the one who caused the trouble, has been sent to a convent as a sign of penance.”
Cedric looked down at his glass.
Bella, faced with his silence, put on a sorrowful expression and lowered her head. She didn't bow so low that her face was hidden, however. She also made sure to lean forward just enough to draw attention to her cleavage and the ruby necklace resting against it.
“What happened that day was never our family’s intention. We couldn't have predicted it. I won't make excuses, though; I feel the weight of the responsibility deeply. I sincerely apologize.”
She clasped her delicate hands together. Her perfectly manicured nails and smooth skin suggested she had never performed a day of labor in her life.
Cedric set his glass down on the table and finished the sentence she had interrupted.
“I believe I stated quite clearly at the time that I hoped we wouldn't encounter each other again over such matters.”
At his icy tone, Bella’s head snapped up. She hadn't misheard him. Cedric was looking at her with blatant displeasure.
“Ah… I thought you meant you hoped we wouldn't meet over that specific unpleasant incident…”
“I am the one who determines the scope of an ‘unpleasant incident.’ And this conversation falls squarely within it.”
Cedric turned away from the speechless woman without a second thought, muttering under his breath as he walked away.
“So that is why the Viscount was so insistent on sending his niece to a convent.”