***
And so, today had finally arrived.
Anais was on her way to the Armand estate, riding in the grand carriage that the Dowager Queen had sent for her.
A little while earlier, the butler had spotted the opulent carriage waiting conspicuously in front of the salon, which forced Anais to reveal the sudden appearance of 4,000 pounds and its origins. Upon learning what task she needed to accomplish in exchange for that money, the butler’s initial reaction was one of utter despair.
Despite Anais’s confident assurance that she would succeed in her mission, the butler remained skeptical. However, when Anais hastily added that they would be receiving that amount every month, his demeanor changed entirely. He quickly transitioned from despair to delight, already humming a tune as he began budgeting for the salon’s expenses.
Puddles dotted the otherwise smooth road, remnants of the rain that had fallen earlier that morning. If she had taken a hired carriage instead, the journey to the Armand estate would have been far more exhausting.
Anais drew back the curtains and gazed out the window. The scent of rain-soaked greenery filled the air, emanating from the rows of trees lining the road to the estate.
In the distance, the Armand family’s estate came into view. As befitting its nickname, the “Rose Mansion,” the estate was a breathtaking sight, its walls thickly adorned with climbing roses.
As the moment of arrival approached, Anais felt a flutter of excitement.
‘How long has it been since I attended a social event?’
Anais mentally counted the years. It had been a full three years.
Although she had kept herself informed about the goings-on in high society through her work at the salon, direct experience was, of course, something entirely different. Relying on second-hand information and books had sometimes made consultations challenging.
Anais chuckled to herself.
Now that she had a legitimate reason and the means to attend social events, she couldn’t help but smile. The operation of the salon, which had barely been breaking even despite Lady Amour’s popularity, was finally looking up.
The thought of establishing her own identity as “Anais Brienne” in society filled her with pride. For the first time in a long while, she felt on par with other young noblewomen her age.
As she was caught up in these thoughts, the carriage came to a stop. A footman approached and said something through the window, but his words were drowned out by the sound of horses neighing.
The footman, standing at a distance with a stern expression, made no move to escort her. It was odd. Cautiously, Anais stepped out of the carriage on her own. Just as she turned around, it happened.
“Why are you so late?”
“Wah! You scared me…!”
Anais was so startled by the sudden proximity of Max Barbier that she misstepped, causing her to lose her balance. Her body lurched dangerously to the side.
In that split second, as she caught a glimpse of the ground, despair filled Anais’s eyes.
Was the footman standing off at such a distance because of Max… or because of that massive puddle right in front of her?
Desperately, Anais reached out toward Max. She needed to grab onto something—anything!
“…!”
The fact that what she ended up grabbing was Max’s collar was a bit of a problem.
“Quite the enthusiastic greeting,” Max remarked, suddenly pulled down to be face-to-face with Anais. They were so close she could practically feel his breath, causing her to catch her own.
The unfortunate reality was that she couldn’t let go. Her center of gravity had already shifted backward, and releasing her grip would send her straight into the puddle!
“P-please help me,” Anais pleaded, her voice trembling like that of a lamb. But Max, though partially dragged down by her grip, remained nonchalant, his hands still casually tucked into his pockets.
“I think I’m the one who needs help here,” Max replied, his blue eyes glancing pointedly at her hand clutching his collar.
By now, Anais’s hand had turned pale and was trembling. She could feel a cramp forming in her arched back, the strain unbearable.
“Please, I beg you!” she cried, her voice tinged with desperation. But Max only seemed mildly curious, as if he was enjoying the spectacle and wondering how long she could hold out.
She had momentarily forgotten who she was dealing with. The man before her was that Max—known far and wide for the truth in most of the rumors surrounding him. The infamously unruly third prince.
Which meant, of course, that he was not the kind of man who would kindly assist a damsel in distress.
The realization that Max would likely do nothing to help drained all the strength from Anais. The grip she had on his collar slipped from her grasp in an instant.
She closed her eyes tightly, resigning herself to her fate. But just as she braced for the cold embrace of the muddy water, something unexpected happened.
“…!”
Her arm was suddenly yanked, and a firm support caught her around the waist. The cold, muddy water she had feared never came. Anais’s eyes flew open in surprise.
Max had effortlessly pulled her upright, his arm still securely around her waist.
“If you have a complaint, why not just say it? We’re civilized people, aren’t we?” he said with a casual smile.
“If you were going to help, couldn’t you have done it sooner? Did you have to drag it out like that?” Anais retorted, caught between gratitude and annoyance. She was confused—according to the rumors, Max was the kind of man who wouldn’t even flinch if someone was dying in front of him. So why…?
“Well, isn’t that an interesting way to thank someone, Lady Brienne?” Max responded, raising an eyebrow.
“Did I say anything wrong? If you’d been a moment later, I could have seriously hurt myself,” Anais pointed out, still indignant.
“But you didn’t, did you? Maybe you should be a bit more careful next time,” Max teased.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t sneak up on people without a sound!” Anais shot back, her embarrassment making her voice sharper than she intended.
Just then, she heard gasps from behind her.
“Oh my!”
“Did you see that?”
“Isn’t that Max Barby, the third prince?”
“My goodness. Did he just save that lady from falling?”
Anais turned her head with a creak, her expression frozen in surprise.
Two middle-aged noblewomen had just arrived at the mansion. The one on the right was Baroness Carol Patrice, and the one on the left was Countess Sophie Benoit, both closely associated with Sandrine d’Armand, the duchess of the mansion. And they had just witnessed Max “rescuing” a lady from falling into a puddle.
This is an opportunity, Anais thought quickly, calculating her next move. Though it felt a bit unfair, she decided to seize the moment. With a slightly exaggerated gesture, she bent her knees in a deep, graceful curtsy and addressed Max loudly enough for the women to hear.
“Thank you so much, Your Highness, the third prince!”
“…?”
“If it weren’t for Your Highness’s help, I would have helplessly fallen into that puddle,” Anais continued, her tone sweet yet filled with exaggerated gratitude.
Max shrugged off her praise with a nonchalant wave. “It was nothing. Just what any gentleman would do.”
His easygoing response left the footman, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with wide eyes, completely speechless. Anais, too, found herself momentarily at a loss for words.
Max, however, seemed entirely unbothered. He casually straightened his collar, which had been rumpled during the incident, and began to walk toward the mansion. Behind him, Carol and Sophie exchanged flushed whispers, clearly intrigued by what they had just witnessed. Satisfied, Anais discreetly followed him, though she occasionally winced at the lingering pain in her back.
“Lady Brane,” Max suddenly spoke, breaking the silence.
“…It’s Brienne,” Anais corrected with a sigh.
“Lady Brienne,” he repeated, now correctly.
“Yes?” she replied, her tone wary.
“My grandmother insisted that I attend to help with your matchmaking scheme. Are you going to continue being this much of a nuisance?”
Anais quickened her pace to keep up with his longer strides, lowering her voice as she spoke. “Oh, Your Highness, there’s no need to worry about me. Just carry on as usual.”
“…?” Max glanced down at her, his expression questioning.
Me? Worry about you? His face seemed to say, full of disbelief. Anais responded with a serene smile, looking away as if she hadn’t noticed his skepticism.
“Lady Bastiane is supposed to be here today as well. We can’t expect too much from our first attempt, but it might be good to make an impression.”
“…”
“Your Highness? Are you listening?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Anyway, we’re in this together now, like comrades heading into battle,” Anais continued.
“A noble lady who’s never even seen a battlefield probably shouldn’t be using that metaphor,” Max replied, his voice tinged with amusement.
“It’s just a figure of speech!” Anais shot back, her voice rising slightly in frustration at his relentless teasing.
“There’s no one else here but us. Let’s help each other out and get through this party, okay?” she added, trying to steer the conversation back on track.
“Fine. Whatever,” Max replied with a tone that suggested he couldn’t care less. Yet despite his indifferent response, Anais smiled, feeling satisfied. His slight tension gave her the impression that even the notorious rogue Max Barby was just a regular man when it came to matters of the heart.
As they neared the entrance, the mansion’s servants stepped forward, ready to escort them. “This way, Your Highness,” one said to Max.
“Lady Brienne, please follow me,” another addressed Anais.
The moment had come for them to part ways. Anais glanced back at Max with a hint of anxiety, but the words she wanted to say—Please behave yourself—remained trapped in her throat.
