The Lady You Want to Kill 3: Carnarmon Marques (3/39)

3. Carnarmon Marques

In the Rosantium Empire, there were three ducal families. The Ember Ducal Family, loyalists and founding contributors of the empire; the noble faction’s Virlante Ducal Family, elevated from a marquisate for their wartime achievements; and the neutral Marques Ducal Family, descended from a royal lineage absorbed into the empire.

Naturally, these three houses held the most sought-after bachelors in the empire, second only to the crown prince. The Grand Prince, being a relative of the emperor, seldom left his domain and thus was rarely mentioned.

The Ember family’s head was Calrex Ember, now 24 years old. The Virlante family boasted Ailith Virlante, a 20-year-old young duke, while the Marques family, to whom Agatha recently sent a letter, was led by the 23-year-old Carnarmon Marques.

The Embers and Virlantes were rivals and did not interact. Marques, being neutral, was popular with both factions but refrained from engaging too deeply, maintaining only a moderate level of interaction. None sought to disrupt the current power dynamics. Thus, a letter from the Ember family to the Marques household was an unusual occurrence.

Carnarmon Marques looked down at the dark green envelope sealed with the Ember family’s crest. The seal undeniably belonged to the mistress of the Ember family.

For a ducal house, it was customary to modify the family crest to indicate the sender’s identity. Letters representing the house’s opinion or sent by the duke himself bore the unaltered crest, while the duchess and direct heirs used personalized markings.

Carnarmon scrutinized the laurel-wreathed crest on the letter. This symbol, no doubt, belonged to the Duchess of Ember.

“Have I ever been in correspondence with the Duchess of Ember?”

“Not that I recall,” replied Genarim, the Marques knight commander, who had been in Carnarmon’s office to deliver his monthly training report. As Carnarmon’s gaze shifted from the envelope to him, Genarim shrugged his shoulders.

“Why don’t you read it? Surely it’s not a love letter,” Genarim quipped.

“Has Calrex Ember married yet? A love letter to a young duke’s wife—what a spine-chilling thought.”

“The Duke of Ember is still unmarried. The letter must be from the late duke’s wife, who remains the current duchess.”

“Not a dowager duchess?”

When Carnarmon turned the envelope over, he saw the name “Agatha” elegantly written in gold, rather than the family name. Normally, letters exchanged between noble families were signed with the family name, not a personal one.

When only a first name was used, it indicated a personal interaction rather than a formal, familial exchange. Omitting the surname entirely leaned even further into the private realm.

“Until the duke marries, she’s casually referred to as the duchess. No matter how much you fancy older women, even you wouldn’t cover a dowager duchess,” Genarim teased.

“Would you like to chew your beloved wife’s home-cooked meals with your gums?” Carnarmon replied dryly, cutting Genarim’s jest short.

“Even without the family name, it’s still difficult to ignore a letter from someone as significant as the Duchess of Ember,” Genarim suggested.

Carnarmon conceded and broke the seal. Inside the dark green envelope was a pale green letter emitting a faint, pleasant floral scent. The penmanship was exceptionally graceful.

As Carnarmon began to read, Genarim paused his report and lifted the teacup prepared for him. Idly musing about how tea always tasted the same to him, he waited for the duke to finish reading.

By the time the bitter aroma lingered on his tongue and he set the teacup down, Carnarmon had finished the letter and tossed it onto the desk.

“I’ll need to visit the Ember family,” Carnarmon said.

“What does it say?” Genarim asked.

“They have my grandmother’s necklace and are asking me to retrieve it.”

Carnarmon’s great-grandmother was the last princess of the now-vanished Lancel Kingdom, and his grandmother, Elsanah, was her granddaughter.

The princess had a necklace passed down through generations, but when the Lancel Kingdom was absorbed into the empire after the king relinquished his throne for a duchy, the necklace disappeared.

After her mother’s death, Elsanah had searched extensively for the necklace but failed to recover it. Even in her old age, nearing the end of her life, she frequently mentioned the missing necklace.

Carnarmon, who held deep affection for his grandmother, decided to accept the invitation. Elsanah had raised him with devotion after his parents, the late Duke and Duchess of Marques, died in an accident. He wanted to fulfill her wish before she passed.

“Send a reply stating I’ll arrange a visit soon,” Carnarmon ordered.

“Understood,” said the butler, who had been waiting by the door. He accepted the letter and left the office. While proper etiquette dictated writing a personal reply to handwritten letters, the butler’s skill in imitating Carnarmon’s handwriting would suffice.

“Are they just giving it away?” Genarim asked.

“Of course not.”

The letter from the Duchess of Ember stated, in elegant and courteous terms, that she possessed the necklace sought by his grandmother and invited him to retrieve it. Though there was no explicit mention of compensation, it was unlikely to be a simple handover.

Carnarmon judged that whatever the duchess sought, it was unlikely to involve his family. After all, the letter was sent under her personal name, not the family’s. However, what her “personal” request might entail was anyone’s guess.

* * *

March, as new sprouts began to emerge in the garden.

The Ember ducal residence had been bustling for days. This was due to the upcoming visit of the Marques Duke, invited by the Duchess herself.

Normally, there wasn’t much interaction between the two houses. Their exchanges were limited to formalities like, “How have you been? I’m doing well, too,” exchanged around New Year’s. It was unexpected that the Duchess extended the invitation, and equally surprising that the Marques Duke accepted it. Yet, the staff diligently cleaned and prepared the residence.

While the estate was already impeccable, it seemed they wanted to ensure there was no room for criticism from a fellow ducal household.

The scheduled time for the Marques Duke’s visit was 2 PM—an ambiguous hour to offer lunch or dinner, making it clear he deliberately chose this time. Now, a little past 1:30, Agatha was having tea with Beatrice.

“Do you know who’s visiting today?”

“I heard it’s the Duke of Marques.”

“Yes, I invited him for some business. Would you like to greet him briefly?”

“I will.”

Beatrice answered politely, lowering her gaze slightly. Agatha gave a bitter smile. Over the past few days of spending time with her youngest daughter, she’d learned a few things—chief among them was that Beatrice never said no. She should have realized it earlier when she noticed how Beatrice complied with every request from the maids.

Her youngest daughter didn’t seem to know how to refuse. At least, that was how it appeared to Agatha. In truth, Beatrice simply didn’t care enough about most things to object. It didn’t matter either way to her. To others, however, she came across as an obedient girl, which worried Agatha.

“I heard from passing conversation that the young master of the Buildrander County proposed to be your debutante partner?”

“Yes, now that you mention it, I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

“Let it be. Given that he didn’t press for a response at the time, I doubt he was serious about it.”

Agatha deliberately dismissed the matter negatively. She wasn’t fond of Gallet Buildrander, and with Beatrice’s inability to refuse, it seemed better to let the matter fade away.

Seeing Beatrice’s empty teacup, Agatha instructed a maid to clear the table. After all, it was nearly time for her appointment with the Marques Duke.

“The Duke of Marques has a stellar reputation.”

“I’ve also heard he’s very handsome.”

“Indeed. Where did you hear that?”

“From Laura. She said he’s tall and handsome.”

“That’s right. Many young ladies are eager to attend parties as his partner.”

Agatha purposefully praised the Duke while observing Beatrice’s reaction. However, her daughter sat quietly with her gaze lowered, showing no interest whatsoever. Agatha inwardly sighed in pity. Most girls her age would be fascinated by noblemen of such stature, especially if they were handsome.

But Beatrice listened passively, as if the topic were unrelated to her, asking no questions. Perhaps it was because she had grown up under years of neglect. Agatha couldn’t help but think it was her fault.

“What do you think of him as a debutante partner?”

“How can I say? I don’t know him.”

Naturally, Beatrice and the Duke of Marques had no connections in this life. Perhaps in a previous one, but not now. Reflecting on the past for a moment, she blinked once. He had despised her thoroughly. In truth, across all her lives, there were more people who hated or resented her than those who liked her.

Beatrice had never been merciful, kind, or lovable. From their very first encounter in a past life, things had gone awry. Perhaps they were destined to be as incompatible as oil and water. Beatrice doubted it would be any different this time.

“Could you consider it after meeting him?”

“I’ll try. But would he even want to be my partner?”

Beatrice recalled the man from her past. Surely his personality was the same, only his age different. The Duke of Marques, Carnarmon Marques, was notoriously known for avoiding entanglements with women.

While he occasionally brought a lady from an allied family to Imperial parties, no woman had ever accompanied him more than three times. He also had no record of serving as anyone’s debutante partner.

“If he declines, we can look for someone else. He may have the highest reputation, but he’s not the only man in the world.”

“That’s true.”

Though Agatha had invited the Duke to secure him as Beatrice’s debutante partner, she feigned indifference. She worried that her timid daughter might feel burdened by the knowledge that an important heirloom was being used as bait to pair them. It might even make her feel guilty toward the Duke.

For nobles, emotional exchanges—whether between men and women or others—always took a back seat to calculated transactions. Yet, Agatha didn’t want to expose her pitiful youngest daughter to that cold reality just yet.

She knew she was being overprotective, but after years of mistreatment, she wanted to compensate by being overly kind. And who could fault a duchess for being protective of her daughter?

“After I finish speaking with the Duke, I’ll call for you. Go to the library and read a book in the meantime.”

Agatha dismissed Beatrice and turned her gaze to the large window in her room. From there, she had a clear view of the front gates. It wasn’t difficult to spot the dark carriage approaching from the distance.

“It seems the Duke of Marques has arrived. Go and greet him.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

One maid went to escort the Marques Duke, while another retrieved a necklace from Agatha’s jewelry box. The necklace, with a large green gem encased in finely crafted gold, had an aged yet elegant appearance.

Back when Marques’ Elsanah was searching for the necklace, Agatha had not yet been the Duchess. After marrying the Duke of Ember, Agatha realized that the necklace was indeed the one Elsanah had sought. However, much time had passed by then, and she had no particular desire to return it.

It was fortunate that she hadn’t returned it back then—who would have thought it would prove so useful now?

“The Duke of Marques has been shown to the drawing room.”

“Alright, I’ll head there.”

Agatha, leisurely seated on the sofa in her room, only rose after hearing that Carnarmon had arrived in the drawing room. The maid placed the green necklace in a dark green velvet case and followed behind her.

While making a guest wait might seem a bit insolent, Agatha considered this amount of posturing acceptable.

It was well-known in high society how much the Duke of Marques cherished his grandmother. The fact that someone as elusive as him had come all this way for a necklace was evidence of his desperation.

Of course, the reason he accepted the invitation was also because Agatha had sent a personal letter. If it had been a formal matter between their houses, he likely wouldn’t have come. It was because it was a personal request that he viewed it as a light matter.

Agatha arrived at the drawing room, where a maid lightly knocked on the door before opening it.

“My apologies for being a bit late.”

“No apologies necessary.”

Agatha entered with a warm smile on her face. Sitting on the sofa, leaning back slightly, was a man with dark navy hair so deep it almost looked black.

Though his posture slightly deviated from proper etiquette, it didn’t come off as arrogant. It seemed more like he was deliberately matching her earlier behavior.

While keeping her smile, Agatha silently criticized him. Once seated, the maid placed the necklace case on the table.

“This is the necklace.”

“May I open it to confirm?”

“Of course.”

Carnarmon immediately picked up the case and opened the lid. Inside, resting on a black velvet lining, was the green gem necklace. He nodded slightly as he examined it.

It was exactly as his grandmother had described. Though he would need to show it to her for confirmation, the Ember family wouldn’t have offered it in exchange without verifying its authenticity.

Carnarmon closed the case and set it back on the table.

“So, what is it you want from me?”

 

 

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