Chapter 7
The Invitation
There was a tradition observed around this time every year.
Any family that produced the Flower of High Society was expected to host a grand soirée before too much time passed.
Thanks to that custom, the Rosenberg estate bustled with even greater energy than usual. Margarete spent her days drafting guest lists, selecting flowers to decorate the mansion, and discussing the menu with the chef.
On top of that, she never forgot to personally handwrite invitation cards whenever she had spare time.
Because of this, Ariel was able to hide the unexpected surprise that had arrived without warning.
“My goodness, Mary.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Do you think this is Mother’s curse… or proof that heaven itself is on her side?”
“I’m not entirely sure, my lady.”
Struggling to calm her pounding heart, Ariel stared blankly at the letter clutched in her hands. Beside her stood Mary, who had delivered the troublesome thing, looking perfectly detached as always.
After all, this was hardly new.
Mother and daughter had been locked in an invisible tug-of-war over marriage prospects for years. The only difference was that since last year, one particularly dangerous candidate had entered Margarete’s list of favored husbands, repeatedly sending the countess into fits of excitement while leaving Ariel utterly troubled.
Still dazed, Ariel slowly traced the elegant handwriting on the back of the envelope once more.
A long and distinguished name was written there in graceful script.
[Christian Ernest Karl Wilhelm Emanuel, Prince von Stern]
Ah… this could not be happening.
If Margarete ever saw a handwritten letter from the Crown Prince, she would immediately spiral into wild fantasies and shriek loud enough to outdo an opera singer.
Ariel pressed her fingers firmly against her aching temples before suddenly lifting her head as though struck by revelation.
If she wanted to survive, damage control came first.
“Mary, besides you, who else knows about this letter?”
“Only the butler and I, my lady.”
“You’re certain?”
“I’d wager this month’s salary on it.”
That answer was reassuring enough that Ariel finally let out the breath trapped in her chest. Once she regained a little composure, she gathered the courage to open the envelope.
But the moment she unfolded the neatly folded paper, she froze.
“…What is this?”
She had expected the bold handwriting of Crown Prince Christian.
Instead, the white paper was densely filled with stiff, unfamiliar lettering.
It did not take her long to understand.
I am currently experiencing the usefulness of the typewriter down to my very bones. Can you imagine how quickly one can write letters this way? Thanks to it, I am enjoying the pleasure of corresponding with many people. Ah, of course, that includes you as well, Ariel.
The lengthy letter had been written entirely with the rigid, perfectly aligned letters of a typewriter.
She already knew he was amusing, but this level of eccentricity was unexpected.
Without realizing it, Ariel smiled softly as she continued reading. Yet by the end of the letter, she had unconsciously stopped breathing.
The Crown Prince mentioned that he would return to Kelt this autumn after completing his grand tour abroad. The news of his return was written in a warm, familiar tone, followed by a postscript saying he looked forward to meeting her again.
Her mouth suddenly felt dry.
If they met again, her mother would undoubtedly misunderstand. The Crown Prince simply enjoyed socializing with people of all ages and backgrounds.
That was the kind of man he was.
Always surrounded by countless others.
And Ariel was objective enough to know her own place. To him, she was merely one friend among many.
No matter what, she had to return to Milton Abbey before autumn arrived.
Determined with almost desperate resolve, Ariel headed toward her desk to write a reply.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
“Ariel, I need your help.”
“Gah—! Yes?”
“…Why are you so startled?”
Margarete narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Ariel quickly hid the letter behind the wide folds of her crinoline skirt. Standing nearby, Mary accepted the hidden paper without changing expression and smoothly concealed it beneath the silver tray in her hands.
After bowing politely and withdrawing, Mary disappeared from the room.
Clearing her throat, Ariel forced out the first excuse she could think of.
“I was just about to change clothes.”
“Really?”
Margarete still looked unconvinced, but apparently she had other matters to attend to and did not press further. Instead, she glanced toward the clock resting atop the mantelpiece.
“There’s still time before dinner, so do this first.”
Ariel looked at the stack of cards and envelopes Margarete placed on the table. Beside them was the guest list for the upcoming soirée.
“My fingers hurt too much to continue writing.”
Ten names had already been crossed out.
The remaining hundreds were clearly Ariel’s responsibility.
“What about printing them instead?”
She thought it was a reasonable suggestion, but Margarete’s expression immediately sharpened.
“How could such vulgar lettering possibly convey sincerity? A refined lady must show the effort of writing invitations by hand.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Do-sol-do-re— Do-sol-do-re—
Long fingers drifted elegantly over the white piano keys. A pleasant melody echoed through the drawing room before blossoming into rich harmonies.
Standing lazily beside the grand piano, Leonardo played idly with only his right hand while an invitation written in smooth handwriting rested in his left.
A formal invitation uncomfortable for both the sender and the recipient.
In situations like this, the most elegant solution was for Leonardo to decline with a polite excuse.
“Have you given it any thought?”
At that moment, Isabella entered the drawing room.
Lifting his gaze, Leonardo folded the invitation and casually set it atop the piano lid.
“The portrait I gave you before.”
“I don’t think it’s something I can decide so easily.”
“That’s true.”
At least he hadn’t dismissed the matter carelessly.
Relief spread across Isabella’s face after confirming that much. Business was important, but what worried her most was the absence of an heir for the family.
“I’ll take my time and think carefully about it.”
“You’ve made a wise decision.”
Watching her pleased expression, Leonardo smiled gently. Meanwhile, his fingers slowly brushed across the surface of the invitation card.
“Last year they rented out the opera house, but this truly is worthy of the Rosenberg family.”
The guests who arrived one after another admired the magnificent townhouse in awe. The grand mansion was spacious enough to hold hundreds of people and transformed perfectly into a ballroom.
Margarete, hostess of tonight’s soirée, had poured every ounce of her taste and ability into preparing the event. The standing the Rosenberg family would hold within society depended on how successfully this evening unfolded.
There could not be a single flaw.
This soirée had to be remembered as the finest event of the season.
“It exceeds all expectations, Countess.”
“Thank you for hosting such a splendid evening.”
“Elisabeth, come greet the Countess properly.”
Guests continuously surrounded Margarete with praise.
The immense scale of the mansion, the luxurious furnishings filling every corner, and even the fashionable interior décor reflecting the latest trends of the capital—
Everyone could keenly feel the unwavering wealth of the Rosenberg family.
And naturally, they moved quickly.
There could be no more natural or advantageous opportunity for building connections than tonight.
“I have a feeling this will become the most memorable soirée of the season.”
“Oh my, you flatter me. We’ve only just begun.”
Margarete looked radiant with satisfaction.
Watching her mother from afar, Ariel quietly blended into a group of girls around her age.
It was wonderful seeing familiar faces from finishing school again. Since most of them had debuted a year or two earlier than Ariel, they all seemed perfectly relaxed and experienced in gatherings like this.
Meanwhile, Ariel still found herself nervous over the possibility of making mistakes.
“You can relax now, Ariel. At this rate, the host’s daughter definitely won’t end up a wallflower.”
Someone joked in an attempt to ease her nerves, drawing a small laugh from Ariel.
“Even though Sabrina was the Flower of High Society two years ago, she still ended up a wallflower.”
“That’s right. I debuted that year too, so I remember clearly.”
“It wasn’t that nobody asked her to dance. She was so exhausted she pretended to be resting.”
The girls giggled before spotting Sabrina nearby and quickly lowering their voices.
Ariel glanced discreetly toward the woman in question.
Though they had never met personally, Ariel knew the name. Sabrina, daughter of a prestigious family, had also been invited by Margarete.
She was not overwhelmingly beautiful, but she carried herself with graceful elegance befitting a former Flower of High Society.
And yet… a wallflower.
Of course, every young lady experienced the humiliation of lingering near the walls without a dance invitation at least once in her life. But for that to happen while hosting a party as the Flower of High Society?
That was perfect gossip material.
An irresistible feast for those who lived for scandal.
After all, it was considered basic etiquette for gentlemen to ask the host’s daughter to dance at least once.
That was when a ripple of commotion spread through the crowd.
Countless gazes immediately swarmed toward the Rosenberg ladies like ants.
“My goodness! Duke Devonshire has arrived!”
The moment someone cried out, Ariel spotted him as well.
The man who absolutely should have declined—
The man she had been certain would never attend—
Was standing there openly before everyone.
And because she had personally handwritten his invitation, Ariel’s emerald eyes trembled ever so slightly.
