Chapter 10
The influence of the Crown Princess on high society was far from trivial. A single hint that someone had fallen out of her favor could unleash the hounds to tear at their throat. Gentlemen who loathed stepping outside established norms would likely turn their backs on someone like Alexa.
It was precisely then that a man in league with Olga would swoop in to claim the isolated heiress for marriage. Since he was already a highly desirable bachelor in the marriage market, it would be easy to paint him as Alexa’s sole savior. After all, Olga had no real interest in the happy marriage of a niece who wasn’t even related by blood.
High society was Olga’s domain. The fact that the Crown Princess had participated in an auction decades ago was a secret known only to a select few, so even if it came to light, Olga could feign innocence and slip away.
“And who is this lovely young lady accompanying you? Would you share her name?”
Meanwhile, the Crown Princess, tearing her gaze from a necklace, offered an elegant smile and extended her hand toward Alexa.
Unaware of the undercurrents, Alexa couldn’t conceal her awe and placed her hand beneath the Crown Princess’s. A faint tremble from the one paying respects passed to the Crown Princess. In a composed voice, Alexa announced herself.
“Alexa Winterborn, Your Highness.”
The Crown Princess accepted the introduction with a gracious smile, a signal that Alexa had earned the right to confidently seek a husband in high society.
Olga, who had secretly hoped the Crown Princess—perhaps displeased—might withhold her hand, felt a pang of disappointment but maintained her composure.
“Alexa is my niece, Your Highness,” Olga said. “She hasn’t been active in society for some time, but this year, I’m taking it upon myself to diligently find her a suitable match.”
“I’m sure she’ll meet someone wonderful. It would be hard to find a man who wouldn’t be captivated by those eyes.”
With warm words of encouragement, the Crown Princess lightly patted Alexa’s still-rigid arm. Alexa, flustered by the unexpected touch, bowed her head deeply again in reverence.
“I don’t mean to strain your neck. I only did it because I like you, so lift your head.”
Alexa, genuinely grateful, withdrew alongside Olga.
Young ladies unaccustomed to the ways of society cast envious glances at Alexa, who had won the Crown Princess’s smile. They seemed to resent that a mere commoner had made such a favorable impression.
Meanwhile, a few seasoned noblewomen, hiding behind their fans, quietly exchanged opinions about the fleeting discord they’d noticed between Alexa, Olga, and the Crown Princess.
Was that smile truly one of approval?
—
The lively music came to an end.
Watching the overheated ladies and the gentlemen heading off to fetch cold lemonade, Alexa suppressed her nervous anticipation. Though the Crown Princess had acknowledged her, the first dance partner Olga deemed acceptable still hadn’t approached, leaving Alexa stranded as a wallflower. Dominic had brought a few of his friends, but Olga dismissed them with a stern glance.
Was the first dance really that important?
To hide her embarrassment, Alexa was idly tracing the embroidery on her dress when Olga nudged her elbow into Alexa’s side.
“It’s Count Cornet. Pull yourself together.”
Reflexively lifting her head, Alexa flashed a natural smile toward the approaching young man.
Count Cornet, now standing before them, offered a courteous greeting.
“Lady Bonice.”
With his dark blond hair neatly combed back, the count was strikingly handsome.
“Lord Cornet, it’s been a while,” Olga replied.
After concluding his exchange with Olga, Count Cornet naturally turned his gaze to Alexa, signaling that someone of higher status wished to be introduced. Olga, with a look that said she’d been waiting for this moment, presented her carefully groomed niece.
“This is my niece, Alexa. Say hello to Lord Cornet, Alexa.”
“Hello, Lord Cornet. I’m Alexa Winterborn.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Winterborn.”
He smiled warmly and glanced at her hand.
Oh, I should offer it.
Belatedly, Alexa extended the back of her hand. The count gently pulled it toward him and placed an elegant kiss on it.
Even as the next piece of music began, the count didn’t return to the dance floor. Instead, he engaged Alexa in light conversation.
They spoke of upcoming social events, the open house at the Royal Academy of Arts, and noteworthy sporting matches. The conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by occasional bursts of delighted laughter.
Alexa, who had assumed the count would be all flash and no substance, regretted her foolish rush to judge him by appearances. Olga’s pointed glances urging her to pay attention were rare, and the count proved to be a humble and courteous man.
“Miss Winterborn.”
As a dance requiring close contact between partners ended, the count turned to Alexa with a deliberate expression and extended his hand. Staring at his gloved fingertips, Alexa instinctively knew the moment had come. The gazes of the bustling crowd converged on the count’s hand.
Count Cornet asking Isabella’s daughter for a dance!
It was a shocking, blush-inducing spectacle that would fuel tea parties and outings for three years.
“Would you grant me the honor of your first dance?”
Everyone held their breath, awaiting Alexa’s decision.
Alexa, caught off guard, glanced at Olga first. Olga, barely containing a radiant smile, gave a slow nod, signaling the chaperone’s approval. Feeling her chest tighten with nerves, Alexa placed her fingers on the count’s palm.
“I haven’t danced in a while, so I might be clumsy.”
“I grew up with younger sisters, so I’m trained not to yelp even if my feet get stepped on. Don’t worry.”
The count flashed a charming smile that could win anyone over. In that moment, Alexa noticed that his eyes, catching the chandelier’s light, were green—a shade closer to olive than the duke’s.
Why now, of all times? Him. To hide her discomposure, Alexa gripped the hem of her skirt tightly with one hand. Oblivious to her inner turmoil, the count chuckled lightly and asked, “Sudden burst of courage?”
“Because I know you’ll lead me well, Lord Cornet.”
She couldn’t let her first dance with an excellent marriage prospect like the count be overshadowed by the lingering image of a spiteful man. She had to do this well. Clutching the count’s hand, Alexa stepped onto the dance floor with a resolute expression.
—
Princess Iris of Vasa was, in Raymond’s estimation, a green novice.
“You dance remarkably well. But are you always this serious?”
“It’s only that Your Highness’s beauty has me on edge.”
Raymond humored the young princess, whose intentions were transparent, with just the right amount of charm.
“You’re quite the flatterer.”
“How could I be? No one would dare question Your Highness’s beauty.”
Iris gave a small laugh, clearly pleased by Raymond’s honeyed words. Her smile was endearing to all who saw it, but Raymond’s eyes remained as still as a calm sea.
He escorted the overly excited Iris safely back to the Crown Princess’s side. The middle-aged Crown Princess, pleased with the duke’s impeccable manners, warmly welcomed their return.
“Iris must be such a bother.”
“Your Highness! I didn’t trouble the duke,” Iris protested playfully, promptly sitting beside the Crown Princess. At just eighteen, Iris was adept at winning the affection of the ladies, like a kitten leaping onto their laps.
“Princess Iris, the duke is a very busy man,” the Crown Princess said. “For him to come to a ball he doesn’t usually attend, especially for you, is quite something. Did you thank him properly?”
In a shy voice, Iris said, “Thank you, Your Grace.”
The Crown Princess, Greta, continued smoothly, “You should thank Duchess Fraser separately as well. I didn’t expect the duke to come for Iris’s sake. He’s such a rare sight in society.”
“I must strive to be humbler, then. To think you assumed I wouldn’t answer the royal family’s call. I’ve merely been occupied with business matters lately. Please remember that Belsmeyer’s loyalty always lies with Aston Palace.”
“Your eloquence makes me smile,” Greta replied.
Listening to the exchange between Greta and Raymond, Iris couldn’t contain her curiosity and interjected, “Will you come to balls more often now?”
“If summoned, I shall obey.”
“For you to show up like this, I can finally face my relatives with pride. Thank you.”
Concluding his conversation with the royals, Raymond scanned the dance floor with an impassive expression, observing the enthusiastic dancers. At that moment, a woman in a pale lavender dress caught his eye.
Holding one hand with her partner, she moved clumsily to the rhythm of the strings, laughing. As she spun awkwardly, clutching her skirt with one hand, her partner steadied her by holding her waist. He thought she was a stranger—until he caught the glint of her bright blue eyes sparkling with amusement.
Alexa.
The name that surfaced on the tip of his tongue puzzled him. A woman who had vanished entirely from society had reappeared. Her dramatic return made her presence impossible to ignore.
Only then did he notice that her partner was Vincent Cornet, currently a top choice among the elite for a husband. His substantial lands and clean reputation with women earned him high regard.
Wasn’t she too young to marry? The question crossed his mind, but seeing the hungry gazes of countless men devouring her, his doubts dissolved. Alexa was no longer a girl in need of protection. Nor was her age unusual for seeking a match.
So that’s why she came to Silverbell.
The conclusion wasn’t entirely welcome, and Raymond narrowed his eyes.
Did she return to walk the same path as her mother, even after witnessing everything?
As she hopped sideways with both hands clasped with her partner, she flashed another smile at the count. In response, instead of the polite smile a gentleman escorting a lady might offer, the count’s lips curved into a genuine one.
At last, a thought crystallized.
Whatever her reasons for returning to society could wait. For now, he wanted that smile to vanish.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
