Chapter 32
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 32
“If you head that way, the butler will personally serve you whatever drink you desire.”
“Thank you for the information.”
Cedric gave a slight nod to his acquaintances and took his leave. Understanding the reason for his departure from his brief exchange with the servant, his companions waved him off casually. Cedric made his way toward the terrace, his stride composed.
It had been neither expected nor intended for him to cross paths with Julian Faith—whose cheeks were flushed deep crimson from drink—nor had he planned to eavesdrop on the man’s conversation with Harriet.
As he listened, he found himself utterly dumbfounded. Neither Julian Faith, who was playing the part of a fiancé after a mere exchange of letters, nor Harriet, who had supposedly pursued him by posing as his cousin in her correspondence, seemed particularly sane.
Listening to such a tawdry love triangle was grating.
‘But why am I even standing here listening to this?’
A sudden wave of doubt brought him back to his senses. He wondered why he had come all this way in the first place, searching for the woman he suspected was Harriet.
‘The party must have been so tedious that I’ve begun to lose my wits.’
He scoffed at his own behavior and was about to turn away when Julian abruptly lunged toward Harriet. At a glance, it looked as though the man intended to harm her, and Cedric found himself intervening before he could think twice.
Julian, who had stammered pathetically before fleeing, was so cowardly it was embarrassing for another man to witness.
And then there was Harriet...
‘They said she had grown beautiful, and they weren't lying.’
She no longer wore ill-fitting, garish dresses or caked-on makeup, nor was she clad in a shabby nun’s habit with worn-out sleeves. Her skin was smooth and lustrous, the color of polished ivory. She had large hazel eyes, stubborn dark brows, a delicate, perky nose, and full lips that looked as though they had been stained with pomegranate juice.
He had never considered her ugly before, but now, refined by the wealth of the Fellon family, she was undeniably a striking beauty.
Most of all, it was those eyes. She remained unintimidated despite the ordeal she had nearly suffered. That gaze—so defiant it bordered on insolent—captivated him.
‘She’s changed. She is completely different from how she was at the Victory Banquet.’
The bedraggled woman who had seemed on the verge of tears while suppressing her rage was gone. In her place was someone fearless, appearing as if she truly had received Yawar’s grace, just as she claimed.
“To be precise, Your Grace, perhaps you know nothing about me?”
As Harriet uttered those words, Cedric finally realized why he had followed the hem of that green dress.
‘Yes, I know nothing. And that is the most interesting part.’
He wasn't a man prone to emotional fluctuations, but since the Kifren War ended, he had found no joy in anything. His days were a monotonous cycle of loss, betrayal, vengeance, and boredom.
Yet, in this predictable life where everything usually unfolded exactly as expected, only matters concerning Harriet Listerwell took unexpected turns.
Her retreat to a convent for a year, John Listerwell’s termination of her guardianship, her life as a common laborer within those walls, her refusal of his offer of sponsorship, and her sudden return to high society as Trisha’s ward—all of it was unforeseen.
That path, which diverged from his expectations at every turn, piqued his interest.
Leaning against the railing, Cedric gazed intently in the direction Harriet had disappeared. A sudden thought struck him, and he let out a short, dry laugh.
‘The exploration of the unknown is always a worthwhile endeavor.’
This was unlike him. But then again, didn't people often do far crazier things simply for the sake of amusement?
Cedric gestured to a man smoking nearby. The man naturally extinguished his cigarette, glanced around to ensure they were unobserved, and quietly approached.
“Look into the House of Listerwell. I want everything—especially regarding Harriet Listerwell’s scandals.”
At Cedric’s command, the man vanished back into the ballroom without a word.
Before long, he would have a wealth of information regarding the Listerwell family. It was a move made solely for the satisfaction of his own curiosity.
*
“What on earth is happening? What is the meaning of this!”
John Listerwell was so flustered he felt as though he were losing his mind.
He had been busy contacting detective agencies to track Harriet down, only to hear that she had appeared at the Vanderbilt ball—an event he hadn't even attended. To make matters worse, she had arrived with Trisha Fellon as her chaperone.
“It’s absurd enough that she’s acting as a chaperone, but that strict old woman is Harriet’s new guardian? Impossible!”
It was a relief to have found Harriet’s whereabouts without spending a copper, but his ultimate goal was to take her to Perilas and have her sign the land transfer documents. To do that, he would inevitably need the consent of her guardian, Trisha.
‘That old crone is far too sharp. There’s no way she’d hand over land she could claim for herself.’
That wasn't the only problem. What if Harriet, backed by Trisha’s influence, started spreading rumors about Bella?
‘The engagement with the Cheslow family is just around the corner. I can’t let her spoil it!’
It wouldn't be difficult to denounce Harriet’s claims as lies, framing them as petty retaliation for the termination of her guardianship. However, the Cheslows had already faced public scrutiny for breaking off their previous engagement with the Laurel family. They would undoubtedly want this new union to be as free of scandal as possible.
“Damn it!”
John paced restlessly, biting back a curse before snatching his jacket from the rack. He rushed down to the first floor.
“Terry! Terry, where are you!”
As he bellowed for the coachman, the butler hurried over.
“Terry is currently tending to the horses, sir. Are you going out?”
“If I weren't going out, why would I be looking for the coachman! Tell him to prepare the carriage at once!”
At his irritable urging, the butler scrambled toward the stables. The coachman, a long-time servant of the Listerwell family, promptly brought the carriage to the front door.
“Where shall I take you, sir?”
“To the Fellon estate!”
At John’s exasperated reply, the coachman snapped the reins. He remembered the way to the Fellon estate, having been there a few times years ago.
‘Since the Viscount is going alone, he’ll probably be out quickly, but it’ll be an awkward wait.’
Terry flicked his whip, his expression impassive. At the Fellon estate, treatment varied wildly depending on the visitor. Those who came seeking money were practically chased away without so much as a cup of tea.
When the Arthur family visited, even he, the coachman, had been welcomed... but that memory was old and faint, like a half-forgotten dream.
*
“Madam. It is rather sudden, but Viscount Listerwell has called. He wishes to see you, if only for a moment.”
Trisha, who was sipping tea in the shade of the terrace while overlooking the well-tended garden, let out a small laugh at the news of John’s unannounced arrival. She rose slowly and walked toward the drawing room, nodding her head.
“Bring him in. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
Shortly after permission was granted, John entered the room. He carried a lavish bouquet of flowers in his hands.
“Great-aunt! I trust you have been well?”
“Welcome, John. What is all this you’ve brought?”
John gave Trisha a light, performative embrace and carefully placed the large bouquet on her tea table. A maid soon brought tea for him as well. The two, who hadn't seen each other in a long time, finished their formal greetings in a matter of moments.
“Alright, now that the pleasantries are over, you should tell me why you’ve really come. Given that you arrived so urgently without notice, it must be something of great importance.”
“Ah, well...”
“It’s about Harriet, isn't it?”
Since Trisha spoke as if she already knew his mind, John saw no point in beating around the bush. He sighed softly, his brow furrowing with feigned concern.
“I came because I was worried. I heard you’ve become that child’s guardian, Great-aunt?”
“Yes. I have.”
“Great-aunt, I don’t know what honeyed words she used to win your sympathy, but everything she says is a lie. She is a compulsive liar.”
Trisha raised an eyebrow at his words. John leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a persuasive whisper.
“You must believe me. I lived with her for nearly ten years. I endured that child’s behavior out of loyalty to my late brother, but with my own daughter’s wedding approaching, I simply couldn't bear it any longer.”
“Is that so?”
“From a young age, Harriet was pathologically jealous of Bella. She wanted to be her, I think. She kept clinging to my daughter’s friends, and for the past few years, she’s been outright impersonating Bella to lure men. You can imagine how infuriating it was for us.”
He continued his lament, thumping his chest dramatically as if burdened by a great sorrow.