Chapter 6
The Fate of a Second Son
“So who’s this year’s flower?”
Leaning back against the sofa, Leonardo closed his tired eyes. It was an astonishingly uninterested attitude for someone asking the question. Knowing the boredom hidden beneath his tone toward an event repeated every single year, Dietrich felt a strange thrill.
“Do you have some special talent for filtering out information you don’t want to hear? You’re probably the only man left who still doesn’t know who this season’s flower is.”
People were making an absurdly huge fuss over a title decided only today. Yet from that overly dramatic reaction alone, Leonardo already understood the answer.
That woman, huh.
Considering beauty capable of standing out even in darkness, it was hardly surprising.
Though indulging in secret rendezvous on the very first night of her debut could hardly be called behavior worthy of society’s flower. Then again, once etiquette was stripped away, everyone in these circles eventually ended up panting together behind closed doors anyway.
Suddenly, he remembered flushed cheeks tinged pink.
Leonardo slowly lifted his eyelids.
“The young lady of Rosenberg received the honorable crown.”
Fabian giggled as he drove the final nail in, carefully watching Leonardo’s expression. Leonardo merely smirked.
“You don’t seem very surprised.”
“Not particularly. A family of that caliber producing society’s flower is hardly shocking.”
“Damn, Count Rosenberg should’ve heard you say that.”
The last remark came from Reiner.
Amused that Leonardo was speaking rather generously about a rival family, the others continued teasing him for a while before the conversation naturally drifted toward investments and business.
Meanwhile, more guests gradually entered the cigar room occupied by the four men. Leonardo greeted each newcomer with a small nod, but the moment a red-haired man stepped inside, he unconsciously inhaled deeply from his cigar.
Fwoosh.
Beyond the pale gray smoke he exhaled slowly stood the second son of the Cayenne family, selecting a cigar from the display box.
Placing his barely smoked cigar into the ashtray, Leonardo rose without hurry.
Valentin, who had just cut the tip of his cigar with a silver cutter, turned at the approaching footsteps. Leonardo lifted one eyebrow slightly. A cedar spill burned between his fingers.
Like predators sizing each other up, the two men locked eyes coldly.
Without a word, Leonardo lit the cedar spill.
Valentin silently offered his cigar.
The small flame flickered dangerously as it burned the end.
“Thank you.”
Offering a polite word of thanks, Valentin observed the other man cautiously.
Instinctively, he understood.
Leonardo had not approached him without ulterior motives.
What exactly did he want?
He had disliked the man from the moment they met in the garden. Though Leonardo’s face appeared constantly in newspapers, Valentin had never shared any connection with the Duke of Devonshire.
In that sense, they were practically strangers.
“I met Count Cayenne recently.”
Though caught off guard by the abrupt topic, Valentin concealed his confusion and placed the cigar between his lips. He knew little about the family business since he had never involved himself in the enterprises run by his elder brother, but businessmen maintaining connections was hardly unusual.
“I own some shares in one of the Cayenne family’s textile mills.”
“I see.”
Replying casually, Valentin studied Leonardo carefully.
“So Lord Cayenne doesn’t involve himself in the family business?”
“That’s the fate of a second son.”
As though he had heard something amusingly witty, Leonardo laughed softly. There was nothing outwardly offensive about his behavior, and yet somehow it grated on Valentin’s nerves.
What was the purpose of this conversation?
“A family like Cayenne’s could surely pass at least one company down to you.”
“I serve in the Imperial Guard. I decided to pursue the path of a soldier.”
“Ah. A lieutenant?”
“First lieutenant.”
“That’s a fast promotion. You must be suited for it.”
Absurdly enough, that was the entirety of the conversation exchanged between the two men.
As though he had already learned everything he wanted, Leonardo patted Valentin’s shoulder twice before leaving.
Watching the annoyingly flawless back disappearing from the cigar room, Valentin frowned deeply.
A gentle breeze drifted through the open window, causing the white chiffon curtains to ripple softly.
The Rosenberg townhouse in central Kelt was much smaller than the country estate at Milton Abbey, but compared to the average residence in the city, it was still practically a mansion.
At first glance, it seemed like a peaceful afternoon.
During the free time before dinner, Ariel sat upon the drawing room sofa quietly embroidering. Warm sunlight settled gently over her as she focused in silence.
“The primroses and hyacinths bloomed beautifully.”
It was then that Margarete entered alongside a flurry of bustling energy. A willow basket overflowing with flowers hung from the countess’s arm.
Sighing in relief that she could still enjoy her gardening hobby even within Kelt’s cramped townhouse, Margarete gracefully seated herself opposite her daughter.
Ariel glanced briefly toward the willow basket atop the table before continuing her embroidery.
“Did you meet any gentlemen you liked?”
“I’m not sure.”
There had certainly been gentlemen she disliked.
Recalling the unpleasant encounter from the previous night, Ariel forcefully stabbed the needle downward.
If only her hair had not become such a mess, perhaps she would have looked less ridiculous. Mortified, she had glared fiercely at Valentin, though she could hardly stay angry for long when he looked so flustered apologizing to her.
After rushing to the powder room to fix her hair, she had returned to the ballroom wearing a flawlessly social smile. Yet despite all that effort, Leonardo — who appeared much later after wandering who-knew-where — had been surrounded by people and never once glanced her way.
The moment his infuriating face surfaced in her mind again, the emotions she had barely calmed became unsettled once more.
“Count Dietrich von Murrington is of marriageable age too, isn’t he? It’s unfortunate that he’s close with Duke Devonshire, but if your father can be persuaded, he seems like an excellent match.”
There’s no capitalist his age with that much wealth. I heard he owns several villas. Apparently the gold mines he invested in across the New Continent became a massive success too.
Trimming the stems of primroses with gardening shears, Margarete continued chattering endlessly. But after a while, she noticed how strangely quiet her daughter had become and stopped cutting.
“Ariel?”
“……”
“My goodness, child! Where is your mind right now?”
“Huh?”
Snapping back to reality, Ariel startled nearly as much as her mother.
The embroidery filled with colorful flowers had become a disaster. It looked as though a child had wildly stabbed needles into the fabric at random.
“Beautiful embroidery reflects a lady’s elegance. How could you possibly show something this embarrassing to anyone?”
The lecture that threatened to continue indefinitely was interrupted thanks to Heinz returning home at that exact moment.
Internally thanking her father, Ariel hurriedly hid the ruined embroidery from sight.
Fortunately, Margarete’s attention shifted immediately toward the husband she had been impatiently waiting for.
“We were just discussing last night’s ball.”
Interested, Heinz cleared his throat softly and joined them, silently urging her to continue.
After dragging out the introduction dramatically, Margarete cautiously brought up Count Murrington.
Heinz’s expression instantly darkened.
“Murrington? Dietrich von Murrington?”
“That’s right.”
“You say this knowing he’s close friends with that bastard?”
Naturally, “that bastard” referred to none other than Leonardo von Devonshire. It had been a long time since the family stopped bothering with respectful titles whenever speaking of him in private.
Ariel, who had secretly worried her father might actually approve, quietly sighed in relief.
The idea of marrying someone close to Leonardo was absolutely unacceptable.
“Once they marry, he’ll become one of our people anyway.”
“What nonsense! Ariel would end up being stolen by their side instead. It wouldn’t benefit Rosenberg in the slightest.”
“Why are you being so extreme? You welcomed her friendship with the Crown Prince with open arms!”
“How is that the same thing?!”
The atmosphere soured instantly, causing Margarete to close her mouth.
Truthfully, she had wanted to proudly boast before her husband that she had personally raised a daughter worthy of such an excellent marriage prospect. Unfortunately, that seemed impossible.
Changing targets, she turned toward Ariel, who had gone completely silent.
“Come to think of it, have you exchanged letters with His Highness the Crown Prince since returning home? Perhaps there’s one among the invitation cards piling up.”
“There’s nothing like that.”
Leaving no room for misunderstanding, Ariel answered immediately.
Even Heinz, who had been furious moments ago, seemed secretly hopeful judging by how attentively he listened.
Good heavens.
Had they really not given up yet?
Watching her parents cling to such ridiculous hopes made Ariel dizzy.
It had started around this time last year.
While traveling abroad, she had been introduced to the Crown Prince through an acquaintance in one of the cities she visited. She had mentioned the encounter casually in a letter to her mother.
The reply she received had been more enthusiastic than anything before.
[If you regret your travels coming to an end, why not spend one more year broadening your horizons?]
After insisting she return quickly to debut in society and refusing to hear otherwise.
Thus, what had originally been a one-year grand tour became two years under the convenient excuse of her friendship with Crown Prince Christian.
As for why Ariel pretended not to notice the transparent intentions behind the offer… perhaps it had something to do with the engagement ceremony of the century that had dominated every newspaper and magazine at the time.
Afterward, she repeatedly insisted there was absolutely nothing between herself and the Crown Prince, yet Heinz and Margarete clearly still held onto hope.
Even if it involved the imperial family, becoming connected by marriage to that man Leonardo—
It was a future she absolutely refused to imagine.
“No matter how many times I say it, His Highness the Crown Prince and I are only friends.”
