Chapter 142
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 142
A long time had passed since the Kailas Ducal House last hosted an evening gala. With the Duke away on campaign during the war and the subsequent period of mourning for the fallen Rowan, grand festivities had been strictly avoided.
However, for a family of the Kailas’s standing, remaining reclusive for too long was a liability. Their parties were never merely occasions for indulgence; they were battlefields where political signals were exchanged with every toast.
Of course, this particular evening served another purpose entirely.
"Cedric. Make an effort to dance with as many young ladies as you can tonight. You must be married by next year."
Jeremia entered the room as Cedric was preparing, her voice carrying the weight of an official decree.
Standing before the mirror in his tailcoat, Cedric adjusted his bowtie. He glanced at his mother’s reflection, finding her resolute expression somewhat novel.
"Did you truly organize this entire gala just to find me a bride?"
"Do not take this as a joke. You are the Duke of Kailas. You must produce an heir to secure the family line as soon as possible."
At his mother’s nagging, Cedric offered a faint smile and adjusted his cuffs.
Distrusting her son’s silence, Jeremia couldn't help but add, "I know there is a young lady who has caught your eye, but marriage is not a decision to be made on fleeting whims. It is always best to marry someone of similar standing and circumstances. Make sure you speak with the other ladies as well."
"It’s surprising to hear such words from you, Mother."
"I am the only one who can say them. Because I staked my life on a youthful passion, I made myself, your father, and even you unhappy. Do not repeat my mistake."
Cedric’s hand stilled.
"Mother."
His crimson eyes, burning with a cold intensity, met hers in the mirror.
"In his final moments, Father spoke of nothing but you. Even with his own son standing right before him, he only repeated his wish for me to take good care of you."
To be honest, he had felt a pang of resentment toward his father at the time. He had wondered why a man who had remained so distant from his wife throughout his life would only seek her out at the very end.
But now, he understood.
"Father loved you, Mother. He was simply inept at expressing it. His life was not unhappy because of his love for you."
"Cedric..."
"And please, do not arbitrarily decide that my life has been unhappy, either. Especially lately—I’ve found life quite enjoyable."
Jeremia’s hand tightened on the hem of her dress until her knuckles turned white.
Cedric had never spoken to her like this. While it felt natural—given they had never truly discussed such things—she couldn't shake the feeling that her son had suddenly become a stranger.
While I was trapped in my own world, this child grew into a man all on his own.
While she, the youngest princess of the Imperial Family, had indulged in her grief and hidden away, her son had stoically endured the world’s scrutiny. Now, he was drawing a line, telling her not to interfere with a firmness she hadn't seen before.
Feeling as though this was the weight of her own karma, Jeremia managed a bitter smile.
"Very well. If that is how you feel, I won't say another word. I’m sure you will handle it yourself."
She turned to leave, but stopped at the door.
"By the way, Mother."
"Yes?"
When Jeremia turned back, Cedric had shifted away from the mirror to face her.
"You said you know the woman I’m interested in?"
A smile played in Cedric’s eyes. Unable to discern its meaning, Jeremia faltered. As she hesitated, Cedric spoke with calm deliberation.
"If you truly know her, I hope you will treat her kindly. Who knows? She might become family."
"Are you serious?"
"Do I look like I’m joking?"
No. As far as Jeremia knew, Cedric was not the type to jest about such matters.
When he was five or six, a guest had jokingly asked, 'How about marrying my daughter later?' Cedric hadn't even graced the man with an answer. The guest’s daughter had ended up in tears, but looking back, Cedric’s coldness had been the right response. Now, there were countless people who would seize upon the slightest joke to tether their daughters to him.
In other words, Cedric was dead serious.
"I intend to observe her. I cannot be certain of her yet."
"As you wish. That dress suits you well today, Mother."
Accepting the veiled dismissal, Jeremia finally left.
Continuing to look at her son—who seemed to shine with a more polished luster than usual—was strangely painful. He reminded her of her younger self, excitedly adorning herself in anticipation of meeting Rowan.
Once the room fell silent, Cedric turned back to the mirror.
His hair was slicked back perfectly with pomade, not a single strand out of place, and his skin was flawless. He opened a small glass jar, melting a bit of beeswax salve with the tip of his pinky before spreading a thin layer over his lips.
The lamplight caught the faint sheen, though it remained understated.
I wonder if all this effort will even be noticed.
A self-deprecating laugh escaped him.
Normally, parties were a tedious headache. He had to remain standing for hours, navigate high-stakes conversations, and master the art of subtly managing acquaintances who despised one another. On top of that, he had to maintain security against potential assassins and keep a sharp eye on the Pascal and Hayward families, who were still gnashing their teeth in an attempt to suppress the Ducal House.
And then there was the Kingsley family.
Though he had been relatively lenient with them while focusing on Albert, Benedict Kingsley still coveted the Duke’s power.
By all rights, today’s party should have been a source of stress, yet for several days, his mood had been buoyed by a subtle excitement. He tried to ignore it out of embarrassment, but he had to admit the truth.
"Harriet..."
The mere fact that she was coming made his heart pound. It made him care about his appearance to an agonizing degree. He had deliberately groomed himself, knowing his looks were a potent weapon, but he wondered how Harriet would truly see him.
It won't look good if it seems like I tried too hard. But this much... this much should be right.
His attire was impeccable.
His only regret was that, even dressed like this, he wouldn't be able to dance with her. He was well aware of the rumors circulating about them recently. If he were to dance with Harriet in this setting, it would draw a target on her back. Ignorant vultures would surely try to tear her reputation apart.
It was a gnawing sensation—wanting something desperately yet being unable to possess it. Since realizing he had fallen for Harriet, this longing had become his driving force. Empty spaces demanded to be filled.
And when it was clear exactly what—or who—was needed to fill that void, why wouldn't he act?
A knock sounded at the door. It was Herbert, the butler.
"Your Grace. The banquet is about to begin."
"Very well."
The perfect Duke, after one last look at his reflection, turned and left the room. The splendid night at the Kailas Mansion was just beginning.
* * *
"Lady Roxana!"
"It has been a long time, Countess Hashton."
"Trisha had a daughter late in life, after all! Hohoho! I had a feeling it would turn out this way."
"Thank you for your kind words, Countess."
At the entrance of the mansion, Roxana met Trisha’s old friend, who was to serve as her chaperone.
Watching them, Harriet began to doubt if there was anything she could actually do to help Roxana. Having served as Trisha’s aide for years, Roxana had already built strong ties with the late Madam’s inner circle. She possessed a grasp of aristocratic etiquette that surpassed Harriet’s own.
In her dress from the Loubart Clothing Shop, adorned with heirloom jewelry passed down from Trisha, and with her hair and makeup meticulously styled by the maids, Roxana looked every bit the noblewoman.
When I offered to help, the Madam must have been smiling to herself.
Harriet pushed aside her embarrassment and stayed by Roxana’s side.
The Kailas gala was not as gaudy as she had imagined. However, much like the tea party she had attended before, it possessed an untouchable dignity. It wasn't extravagant, but it lacked for nothing. The bar served only the finest vintages, and the food was as delicately garnished as it was delicious.
With grand chandeliers, a world-class orchestra, and servants ensuring every guest’s comfort, everything was flawless.
In the past, Harriet would have been paralyzed by such grandeur. But her courage had grown. Rather than focusing on the display of wealth and power, she turned her attention to the people moving within it.