Chapter 4
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 4
Aston turned to Bella, his face practically bursting with curiosity.
At his words, the expressions of Viscount and Viscountess Listerwell mirrored their son’s.
When they had first heard the plan to "pin a brooch belonging to a man Harriet wouldn't dare dream of looking at onto her skirt," they hadn't asked for details, trusting Bella to handle the matter. But if that man was the Duke of Kailas, it was a different story entirely.
"Indeed. I’m curious as well, Bella."
"Pfft!"
Bella burst into laughter, as if recalling a particularly amusing memory.
"Actually, the brooch I originally planned to use belonged to the eldest son of the Cheslow family. Young Master Lambert had stolen it for me specifically for this occasion."
Even a brooch from the Cheslow family would have been enough to ruin Harriet—especially since James Cheslow, the brooch's owner, was the long-time fiancé of Daphne Laurel, another famous beauty of high society.
"But then, an even greater stroke of luck came my way! I was simply trying to get close enough to the Duke of Kailas to leave an impression, you see."
Bella had woven through the crowd surrounding Cedric, all of them vying for a handshake with the guest of honor.
'Why won't these people just move? Can't they take a hint? Why are they blocking my way?'
As she glared at the backs of the elder nobles who showed no intention of yielding their spots, silently seething with frustration, one of Cedric’s acquaintances called out to him from behind.
He turned amidst the jostling crowd, and in that moment, Bella saw something sparkling tumble from his chest.
Cedric, having already turned away, didn't notice. Neither did the people standing in front of him, as they were too busy trying to identify the person who had called out.
"It was a bit tricky to grab it without being noticed, but I feigned a sore foot and snatched it up while I was 'adjusting' my shoe."
"Wow, that’s my sister for you!"
"Don't be cheeky, Aston."
Bella wrinkled her nose and chided her brother, though she didn't seem the least bit annoyed.
"Then, when the ballroom lights went out, I hurried to Harriet, pinned the brooch to her dress, and waited nearby, playing the innocent bystander."
"Was it you who told the Duke of Kailas, too?"
"Well, who else? I was the only one who knew his brooch was on Harriet."
However, Bella’s expression stiffened slightly as she recalled that moment.
"I heard you lost a brooch, Your Grace. I apologize for intruding, but could you describe it?"
When Bella had approached Cedric, he hadn't offered even a flicker of a smile, despite her flower-like beauty that could charm any man. But it seemed he was desperate to find the item, as he readily described it.
"It is a fifty-carat, emerald-cut ruby brooch. The center stone is surrounded by diamonds."
Of course, she knew it well. Though the design was far from her taste, the gem itself was so dazzling it had made her heart pound.
Bella had spoken hesitantly then, her expression feigning embarrassment.
"Um... my cousin was boasting about receiving a brooch earlier, and it seemed similar to the one you described. Of course, it might not be Your Grace’s, but..."
"And yet, why do you suspect your cousin, My Lady?"
"Oh, well, it’s not so much suspicion as..."
As she had stammered, pretending it was difficult to answer, Caroline—who was standing nearby—had kindly explained on her behalf.
Harriet was already a notorious scandal maker in high society, known for chasing after men who liked Bella, sending them love letters, and generally being a nuisance. There wasn't a single man who would confess his love to Harriet, and even if there were, he certainly wouldn't publicly pin his brooch on her like that.
"And what happened after that, everyone knows."
Bella had been momentarily stunned when she heard the brooch was a memento of the late Duke, a war hero, but as expected, Cedric hadn't made a scene.
"If we tell him we’ve sent Harriet to a convent, the Duke of Kailas will be secretly pleased. It shows we are reflecting on our own, even though he said it was fine."
"If he is, then there’s nothing more we could ask for."
"Even if he isn't, it’s no great loss. We have no ties to the Ducal House anyway. Plus, it gave us an excuse to speak with the Duke."
Bella flashed a confident smile.
Just getting rid of Harriet would have been a success, but to forge a connection with Cedric as well? The entire affair was a triumph.
At that moment, Aston threw a wrench in her mood.
"Even if it’s you, Sis, would the Ducal House really want to form an in-law relationship with us? Mother, Father, don't get your hopes up too much."
But Bella thought differently.
"Why wouldn't they? The late Duke of Kailas was merely the second son of a viscount’s family. He only became a Duke because he caught the Imperial Princess’s eye. My standing is already better than his was."
"That’s true. After all, it will be the Duke’s mother who decides on a marriage proposal, and Lady Kailas is a romantic at heart."
Miriam sided with her daughter, her hopes soaring.
For this "harmonious" family, the grief of the Kailas family who had lost their head, or the fate of Harriet, who was being unjustly banished to a convent, were not even worth a second thought.
*
"Cedric! Or should I address you as 'Your Grace' now?"
"Inside, perhaps. But for now, 'Cedric' will suffice, Uncle."
Cedric greeted his paternal uncle, Viscount Benedict Kingsley, with practiced courtesy.
Today was the day he had invited his vassals and relatives to a dinner at the Ducal Mansion. Everyone was gathered except for those who had sent their regrets, and Viscount Kingsley was the last to arrive.
As Cedric led Benedict into the dining hall and opened the doors, everyone seated rose. The gesture was meant for Cedric, but as Benedict entered beside him and nodded, it looked as though the room was showing deference to him instead.
It wasn't that Benedict failed to notice the subtle shift in atmosphere. On the contrary, he had acted precisely because he wanted everyone to be aware of him.
'I appreciate your help thus far. It’s fortunate that Rowan Kailas is dead, but that Cedric fellow surviving is quite bothersome.'
'He’s just a greenhorn who knows nothing of the world. What is there to fear?'
'I’ll be fine. But if he learns of our relationship, do you think he’ll leave the Viscount alone?'
Marquess Pascal, despite having benefited greatly from the information Benedict provided, had subtly looked down on him, as if viewing a coward who couldn't stand up to his own nephew.
That stung Benedict’s pride.
'If I can just get Cedric under my thumb, even Marquess Pascal and Count Hayward will grovel at my feet.'
To do that, he first needed to win Cedric over.
He patted his nephew’s shoulder in a show of encouragement as Cedric guided him to his seat.
"It must be overwhelming, dealing with one major event after another, isn't it?"
He scrutinized Cedric’s face, his expression full of feigned worry.
"You seem to have lost weight. Are you eating properly?"
His hand remained heavy on Cedric’s back.
"Of course."
"Yes, yes! Leading a Ducal House is difficult with a frail body. I understand your grief at losing your father, but it’s precisely at times like these that you must keep your wits about you."
"You speak truly, Uncle."
The term 'frail' was entirely absurd when applied to a celebrated war hero like Cedric Kailas, yet Cedric merely agreed with a polite nod.
Satisfied, Benedict patted his nephew’s shoulder once more.
"If you ever face difficulties, contact me anytime. Rowan and I looked identical—why don't you just consider me your father from now on?"
"Haha, I think I’d have to hear my aunt’s and my mother’s opinions on that first."
When Cedric laughed, the others in the dining hall joined in with light chuckles.
It was true that Benedict and Rowan, being twins, had been born with nearly identical faces. But now, in their mid-fifties, their appearances and demeanors were so different that anyone could tell them apart.
Benedict, who had become Viscount Kingsley by the luck of being born five minutes earlier, usually wore a practiced smile. He was eloquent and quick to act. To put it kindly, he looked like a businessman; to put it bluntly, a merchant.
The deceased Rowan, on the other hand, had been taciturn and single-minded—an upright, loyal man and a knight of powerful physique. He rarely smiled, and his silence often frustrated those around him.
No matter how similar they once were, there was no way anyone could truly mistake Benedict for Rowan.
"Time has passed," Cedric noted, his voice steady. "Since everyone has gathered, let us begin the meal."