Chapter 15
Seralet fled from Yuhan and headed toward the ladies’ lounge.
She intended to hide there for a while and then use the excuse of feeling unwell to leave early.
She thought the lounge wouldn’t be crowded yet, but through the slightly open door, she heard the voices of women inside.
Hearing them, Seralet stopped in her tracks.
“It breaks my heart when I think of Lady Lydia and Duke Prekthuster.”
“They were such a perfect pair.”
At those words, Seralet lowered the hand that had been reaching for the doorknob.
Come to think of it, in her previous life too, she had first learned about Yuhan and Lydia’s relationship at this very ball. Her lips curled into a crooked smile.
From childhood, Yuhan and Lydia had liked each other, and the central nobility firmly believed the two would marry.
“I cannot go against His Majesty’s wishes. He cares for me too deeply. He always worried that Yuhan’s cold temperament would one day hurt me.”
Lydia’s voice sounded tinged with bitterness.
But no—Yuhan’s cold temperament had not hurt Lydia, it had hurt Seralet Inohater. His own wife, who had even borne him a child.
So, the Emperor’s worries had been meaningless after all. Seralet’s lips twisted at Lydia’s words.
Still, wasn’t Lydia’s statement false?
Did Lydia not yet know that she could not bear children? Was that why Yuhan and the Emperor had spun such excuses to her?
Seralet tilted her head, thoughtful.
“It’s only because His Majesty cherishes Lydia so much.”
“But just imagine the Duke’s feelings—being engaged to someone else while leaving behind the woman he loves!”
“And what happened to His Grace’s forehead? I noticed he had a wound.”
“Perhaps his fiancée struck him?”
One young lady burst into laughter.
“Oh Diana, as if the Duke would ever be struck by anyone.”
“Well, you never know. His fiancée doesn’t seem ordinary.”
The subject had shifted to Seralet. She leaned against the wall, continuing to listen.
In her previous life, she had been labeled a clueless country bumpkin. She wondered what her reputation would be this time.
At least she had avoided being called stupid—it seemed now she was being called “unusual.”
“That country girl Mosheli must be terribly extravagant, attending the ball dressed like that.”
“Her gown and necklace look quite costly.”
“I thought a provincial noble would be poor.”
“It could be the Duke’s money. She must have wheedled it out of him.”
“How sly of her.”
Their voices brimmed with delight. They clearly enjoyed tearing apart this woman called Seralet Inohater.
“No, you’re mistaken. Lady Inohater seems like a good person.”
Lydia spoke as though to defend her.
“As expected of Lydia.”
Hearing Lydia’s voice, Seralet muttered under her breath.
It sounded as though Lydia was defending her, but in truth, the words only served to elevate Lydia’s own value. The other women’s praises confirmed Seralet’s suspicion.
“My, Lydia is extraordinary.”
“To be so generous even toward her beloved’s fiancée!”
“I could never be so magnanimous.”
As Seralet frowned at their words, footsteps approached. Turning, she saw Regan walking toward her.
She straightened to greet him, but Regan motioned for silence and extended his hand.
When Seralet cautiously took it, he escorted her away from the banquet hall.
Once they were far from the lounge, Regan spoke.
“You have an odd hobby, Lady Inohater.”
“An odd hobby?”
Seralet looked up at him curiously as she took his arm.
“The hobby of eavesdropping on insults directed at yourself.”
Regan chuckled.
“I hope you won’t misunderstand me as someone who listens to others’ gossip. I was only hesitating, wondering whether to enter or not.”
Seralet shrugged.
She didn’t mind if he thought her ill-mannered, but outright admitting it felt strange, so she offered that half-excuse.
“Do you need a place to rest?” Regan asked with a faint smile.
“I need somewhere quiet,” Seralet nodded.
“Perfect. I need the same.”
He escorted her out of the hall and into the rose garden.
Deep within the garden stood a secluded pergola, empty of people.
Far removed from the banquet, no laughter or music reached them.
“How is it?”
“It’s wonderful, Your Grace.”
Seralet found the place satisfactory. It was cut off from all noise, and she didn’t have to worry about intruders. Far better than the lounge.
Regan spread a handkerchief on the low railing and gestured for her to sit.
“Thank you.”
She carefully sat on the cloth-covered railing.
Regan leaned against a pillar, gazing toward the distant banquet, while Seralet admired the roses glowing in the dark.
Lydia was like those roses—always flaunting her presence wherever she was. Seralet had always felt dwarfed by that presence.
After some silence, Regan spoke.
“Don’t dwell on what you heard in the lounge.”
His words drew Seralet’s eyes to him.
Embarrassed at his concern over the insults, she gave a small cough before speaking.
“Prekthuster—the name is so expensive. Expensive enough that strangers feel free to say anything about me.”
“Yes, it is. Very expensive,” Regan agreed with a nod.
Images of her previous life flickered before her eyes—suffocating quietly under that expensive name, struggling as the Duchess of Prekthuster.
The harder she tried, the more she was mocked and belittled. The memory made her smile bitterly.
“It feels like too costly a name for me to bear.”
Her honest sigh slipped out. Regan looked at her, puzzled. Realizing she had said too much, Seralet quickly stood.
“I haven’t been feeling well since this morning. I think I should head back early, Your Grace.”
“I’ll tell Yuhan for you,” Regan said with concern.
“No, it’s fine. I can go alone.”
“We should at least inform him.”
“His Grace must be busy. I’d rather not disturb him.”
Her tone was quite firm.
If she said she was unwell, Yuhan would insist on leaving with her. Not because she was special, but because a gentleman should.
Any gentleman would. Letting one’s partner return alone was the height of discourtesy.
But since she was purposely avoiding Yuhan, there was no need to inform him. He would probably be relieved if she didn’t.
“How do you plan to go alone?”
“I can take a hired carriage, or if there isn’t one, I can walk. The Duke’s residence isn’t far from the palace.”
Going back didn’t seem difficult.
But Regan looked utterly aghast.
His expression said, How could you even think such a thing?
“That’s absurd, Lady. Unthinkable.”
For a moment, he was too shocked to continue, then shook his head firmly.
“To send a lady off alone in a hired carriage at night? Impossible.”
“But it’s so close, it should be fine…” Seralet said hesitantly.
Having once faced death, she no longer feared much. Taking a carriage alone, or even walking, felt trivial.
But Regan refused to yield.
“No. You only think so because you’re unfamiliar with the capital. I cannot possibly allow it.”
“Then I’ll simply wait for His Grace.”
She took a step back—she could always slip away later.
But Regan surprised her with an unexpected offer.
“Then let me escort you to the Duke’s residence. I’m Yuhan’s close friend; it won’t seem strange.”
His kindness was almost excessive, leaving Seralet uneasy.
“I would feel terrible troubling you, Your Grace.”
“If I let you leave alone, Yuhan would never forgive me. So, do it for my sake—accept my request.”
Yuhan probably wouldn’t care at all, but Regan’s earnest expression made her nod.
Thus, Seralet returned in Regan’s carriage.
When the door opened, he extended his hand.
“It is my honor to escort Lady Inohater.”
“The honor is mine, to ride in Your Grace’s carriage.”
She took his hand and stepped inside. As expected of the Duke of Popelwell, Regan’s carriage was exquisite—nearly on par with the Prekthuster family’s.
The door shut and the carriage rolled smoothly forward. Whether due to the coachman’s skill or the carriage’s quality, there was no jostling at all.
“I do feel uneasy that we left without telling Yuhan.”
“It’ll be fine.”
Seralet shrugged.
Yuhan would probably be pleased—free to enjoy a sweet rendezvous with Lydia, unbothered by his fiancée.
“Hmm. Will it really be fine, though?” Regan stroked his chin.
“Please, Your Grace, explain it well when you return. I entrust it to you.”
Seralet smiled softly.
“Ah, a beautiful lady’s command fills me with a sense of duty.”
“I’ve always thought so—Your Grace has no reservations when it comes to dealing with women.”
Knowing well Regan’s easygoing nature, she said this with a smile.
Perhaps because of that un-royal attitude, he was quite popular among women. Yet, in her previous life, he had remained alone—neither engaged nor in love.
Strange, in hindsight. How could such a man have no woman by his side?
“You’ve always thought so?” Regan asked, puzzled.
