“My, straight to the point.”
Agatha’s gentle smile thinned slightly.
“I like that.”
A knock sounded, and a tea tray was brought into the room. A subtle, non-sweet aroma filled the space. Neither Carnarmon nor Agatha spoke again until the tea had been fully set.
“You must know about the debutante ball hosted by the Imperial Palace this May. This year, it will be the grandest and most extravagant yet, as the 17-year-old imperial princess will make her debut.”
“Are you asking me to be the princess’s debutante partner?”
“Of course not.”
“Then the Duchess’s?”
“Has the Duke of Marques lost his mind since I last saw him?”
Carnarmon raised an eyebrow in confusion, but then, as if realizing something, his brows furrowed.
“Don’t tell me—it’s the youngest daughter of the Ember family?”
“Ah, you catch on quickly. I admire that.”
“Don’t mock me. Are you seriously advocating for the illegitimate child? That’s not what I expected.”
“There are circumstances. Don’t pry too deeply into another family’s affairs.”
“I understand for now. But asking me, a man who is already 24, to partner with a lady barely past adulthood seems odd. You know how uncomfortable I am with such arrangements.”
“Exactly why I’m using something as valuable as this necklace to ask you.”
Carnarmon narrowed his eyes, staring at Agatha, who met his gaze with an amused smile. The tension between them lingered for a while as maids quietly exchanged glances behind them.
“How long do you think this will go on?” one maid whispered with her eyes.
“Not long,” the other silently replied. “Our lady always keeps the young miss’s snack time punctual.”
Indeed, the seasoned staff of the Ember household had developed a talent for silent communication after years of experience.
“If I were to accept, there would be unavoidable rumors linking me to the Ember family.”
“That’s something we’ll handle on our end. You needn’t worry.”
“Have you considered the inconvenience this might bring me?”
“The Duke of Marques is a capable man. I’m sure you can handle it. You’ve never been interested in marriage, anyway. You’d likely use this as an excuse to avoid incoming proposals.”
“I wondered where Calrex got his sharp tongue. It must be from you, Duchess.”
“If he took after his father, he’d be as soft as an overripe mango. Thank you for finally acknowledging me.”
When Carnarmon and Calrex were younger, they shared the same fencing instructor and occasionally spent time together. Though their paths diverged as they grew older, there was once a time when Agatha and Carnarmon saw each other a couple of times a month.
Sighing, Carnarmon picked up the necklace case. Agatha smiled faintly as she watched him.
“Before you leave, you should at least meet my daughter.”
“If it’s just a brief greeting.”
As the current Duke, Carnarmon was far from idle. Agatha, knowing her eldest son’s perpetually sleep-deprived state, appreciated the time Carnarmon had spared and rose from her seat without delay.
Neither of them had touched their tea, which had been meticulously prepared by the maid.
Following Agatha down the red-carpeted hallway, Carnarmon spoke again.
“Please don’t tell her I agreed to be her partner at your request. Act like it’s a gesture of goodwill.”
“She’s a shy girl who’s awkward with people. Be patient and talk to her first. She’ll respond politely, even if she’s slow to answer.”
“Did I just agree to an engagement without realizing it?”
“Don’t interrupt me.”
As Agatha continued her list of instructions, Carnarmon’s expression grew more exasperated. Though he knew more about the illegitimate daughter of the Ember family than most, he had heard she lived as if invisible, enduring neglect from both family and staff.
Agatha’s current demeanor, treating the girl like a treasured youngest daughter, seemed at odds with those accounts.
“I won’t ask what happened.”
“Even if you did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Carnarmon gave up and fell silent. Walking down the corridor, they stopped in front of the library. Agatha gestured toward the door.
“Beatrice should be inside. I told her to read there, so she likely stayed put.”
“An obedient daughter?”
“Too obedient. Good luck.”
“You’re leaving me alone with her?”
“Would you prefer I hover?”
Agatha gave a polite curtsy and left. Carnarmon sighed, rubbing his temple in frustration.
Watching him, Agatha mused to herself, ‘Should I tie him down while I have the chance?’
“Parents are only present for engagements. Surely, you’re not planning to propose to my daughter?”
“I’ll handle it myself.”
Agatha nodded, satisfied, and walked away, leaving Carnarmon and his attendant behind.
Instead of immediately entering the library, Carnarmon paused to think. ‘How should I naturally propose being her partner?’
The Duke of Marques’s aide, Pretzel, whispered from behind.
“What are you thinking so hard about?”
“How to naturally propose being her partner.”
“Just do what you always do.”
“And that is?”
“Use your face.”
With sudden clarity, Carnarmon opened the library door.
* * *
Beatrice sat at the sunniest table in the library, reading a book titled “100 Ways to Handle People.”
The book was a sort of ancient text, describing in unnervingly precise detail the structure of human muscles and bones and the most effective methods of inflicting pain. Though she had known of the book’s existence in her previous life, she had never read it before.
Having come across it by chance, she began reading and found its knowledge surprisingly useful, drawing her attention. Beatrice had killed many people, but she lacked technical expertise. Her method was simple—breaking and tearing with her bare hands. After all, she had never needed tools.
Beatrice read quickly, finishing over half the book in less than an hour. Just as she reached page 200, the sound of the library door opening made her pause and turn her head.
From where she sat, she could see the door directly. Her gaze met the person who had entered—Carnarmon Marques, the Duke of Marques. Beatrice narrowed her golden eyes. Seeing his face again after so long felt strange. Overlapping his current appearance was the slightly older face of a man who always scowled at her.
“Carnarmon Marques, at your service, my lady,” he greeted.
“Beatrice Ember, Your Grace,” she replied calmly.
As Carnarmon introduced himself, Beatrice returned the greeting with the same composure. His dark blue eyes studied her carefully, but she turned her gaze elsewhere, uninterested.
Beatrice assumed Agatha had sent him. Agatha had openly asked earlier if he might be suitable as a debutante partner—it was obvious, even without confirmation.
She had expected him to refuse, but his presence here suggested otherwise. He must have received something in exchange.
“I stopped by to borrow a book. I didn’t expect to find you here, my lady,” Carnarmon lied smoothly as he approached her table.
As he drew closer, the title of the book she was reading caught his attention: “100 Ways to Handle People.” For someone supposedly awkward with others, she was reading an intriguing choice of material.
Carnarmon masked his thoughts and shifted his gaze to her face, noticing that she still wasn’t looking at him.
“Am I disturbing your personal time?”
“You’re not,” she replied.
“Then may I sit for a moment?”
“Please, do.”
Carnarmon sat across from her, leaning back in his chair. Beatrice pushed the book on the table slightly farther away.
Carnarmon interpreted her action as embarrassment over the book’s title. Her lack of eye contact, he assumed, was due to shyness. But Beatrice Ember wasn’t quite the woman he imagined.
Unlike the rest of the Ember family—with their warm blond or silver hair—Beatrice stood out with her raven-black hair. Though she might appear reserved, she didn’t seem timid. Her responses were indifferent, as though she genuinely didn’t care about him.
“I heard your debutante ball will take place this year,” he said, carefully steering the conversation. Unsure how to bring up the topic of a partner, Carnarmon decided to follow his aide’s advice and rely on his charm, offering a practiced smile.
“It’s a year late, but yes, it’s happening,” she answered evenly.
“I don’t usually attend debutante balls, but with the imperial princess making her debut this year, I’ll need to at least make an appearance.”
As his fingers tapped lightly on the table, Beatrice’s gaze finally turned to him. Their eyes met—her golden ones gleaming in the sunlight—and Carnarmon realized his assumption had been wrong.
“I haven’t found a partner yet. Have you?” he asked.
He had thought her reluctance to meet his gaze stemmed from awkwardness, but now he understood. It wasn’t pretense—she truly had no interest in him.
Odd, he thought. Where was the shy youngest daughter Agatha had described? Of course, she wasn’t entirely different; even among nobles, outright ignoring someone’s presence was unusual.
“I don’t have a partner yet. The youngest son of the Count of Buildrander asked, but I couldn’t accept.”
“Couldn’t accept?”
Her phrasing caught his attention. It wasn’t that she rejected the offer but that she couldn’t accept it. Curious, he pressed further.
“It ended inconclusively because I didn’t have the chance to give an answer,” she explained. “Mother said it was likely a token gesture. If he’d been serious, he would have sought a clear response on the spot.”
Carnarmon suspected he understood Agatha’s reasoning. Gallet Buildrander might be well-regarded for his looks, confidence, and business acumen, but his family’s reputation was far from spotless. Agatha’s protectiveness likely made her reject him outright.
“Then, Lady Ember, may I ask you to be my partner?”
“If it’s you, Your Grace, surely there are others you could choose.”
“Indeed, but the Duke of Ember and I were childhood friends,” he said, though their friendship had ended at seventeen.
“Besides, the Duchess mentioned feeling neglected due to our lack of interaction. I’ve been reflecting on that.”
Reflecting so much, in fact, that he had come bearing a necklace as leverage.
“When I heard you were still without a partner, I thought I’d take this opportunity. I’m glad we met.”
Beatrice considered how to respond to the familiar man acting so differently. She decided to smile—a smile she had learned from Florianne Buildrander, the sunny and cheerful daughter of the Buildrander family. Unlike her initial attempts, this one was perfect.
Her reaction was simple. He had expressed happiness at meeting her, and responding to others’ joy was a fundamental rule of human interaction.
Lowering her smile, she blinked slowly and observed him. Was this truly the same man? The one who had always acted like a finely honed blade now seemed like an entirely different person.
“Very well. Thank you for asking.”
She knew such warmth in his voice and gaze would melt away if he ever learned her truth. For now, she maintained her facade, playing the role of an obedient noble daughter. In the past, when she had shown her true self, they had clashed bitterly.
The memory of another man flitted across her mind, but she brushed it aside. She would see him again soon enough—no need to dwell on it yet.
Her golden eyes glittered in the sunlight, her radiant smile leaving its impression. But whether Carnarmon was moved by it, she neither knew nor cared.
Carnarmon, however, couldn’t help but think, For someone who seemed indifferent, she smiles so brightly at a single word of kindness.
Perhaps Agatha was right. Beatrice seemed clumsy at expressing emotions. Like a fragmented painting, she struggled to piece together her feelings.
It was a trait he’d seen in people who had spent too long isolated from meaningful human interaction. Drawing from his understanding of Beatrice’s circumstances, he realized her recent treatment had likely improved.
“Thank you for accepting, my lady.”
There was no one present to correct his misconceptions.
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