Be nice. Be nice. I repeated those words in my heart as I kept my lips curved up. However, my father wrinkled his brow as though he’d seen something baffling. Then, he returned to his usual deadpan face.
His sudden change in expression made my face muscles throw in the towel. Smiling insincerely at my father is pointless. What was I thinking? It’s so meaningless I almost want to turn it into a proverb. Casting pearls before swine would probably be more valuable. I’d tossed aside my resolve in seconds flat and returned to sullenly snubbing him.
“By the way,” my father said, drawing my attention to him. “How is the soiree?”
If I were to be honest, I’d sum it up in one word: tiring. However, if I gave my father an honest reply, he’d only scoff at me. I gave up on searching for the right words.
He didn’t wait for me to answer though and continued. “I saw you got entangled with someone bothersome.”
Evidently, he’d seen me converse with Duke Schletter.
“It was a good learning experience,” I replied with a wry smile.
Wrinkles reappeared on my father’s forehead. “Well, perhaps so. That one is straightforward—in a negative way. He’s greedy and unsightly, but he is so preoccupied with immediate gain that he’s a person of little consequence. He’s perfect for a beginner unaccustomed to the poison of high society.”
Duke Schletter was an open book who’d charged right at me with malice. Even if I made every effort, I didn’t see us getting along, but he was easy to handle. In comparison, someone who approached me posing as a good-natured person was more troublesome. A single misspoken word or incorrect response would instantly be rewarded with having the carpet pulled from under me.
With that in mind, I had to agree that Duke Schletter was a good opponent for a beginner like me. When I remembered the face of the small-fry duke, the lady who’d appeared like a small animal—Miss Sandra—also came to mind.
“Come to think of it, the girl that Duke Schletter was escorting... Do you know the young lady from House Baalke?”
“I do. Ostensibly, she’s infatuated with your husband.”
That pissed me off. I might have brought her up, but to dive straight into the topic I wanted to touch upon least?
“What? Are you jealous?” my father asked.
I said nothing.
“Ah, so there is a side of you that’s like a normal woman,” he said in an impressed tone.
“I’ve always been a normal woman, now and in the past,” I replied without hiding my foul mood.
I can’t put myself in an objective frame of mind to feel proud of the fact that a beautiful young lady has the hots for my beloved husband and shrug it off with a smile. I’m simply jealous, and I don’t find it amusing. Of course I won’t!
However, I should be careful not to let it show on my face. If I act too jealous, Sir Leonhart will tire of me. And yet, my father is completely oblivious to how I feel and just blurted that out.
I glared at him. He motioned for me to look to my side. Confused, I turned and locked eyes with Sir Leonhart, whose face was bright red.
My eyes went round.
Sir Leonhart looked away. He remained staring off into the distance and cleared his throat to recompose his expression. “Please, don’t mind me.”
That’s impossible. I’m super curious.
Sir Leonhart covered his mouth with his palm, trying to hide his flushed cheeks. I sensed embarrassment and agitation in his expression, but not in a negative way. It might be wishful thinking on my part, but he seems...a little happy.
“Please don’t stare so hard,” Sir Leonhart mumbled in response to my ardent gaze.
His clearly embarrassed expression and the way his voice was barely audible shot an arrow through my heart. My husband is so darn cute!
While my heart was pounding, an annoying voice interrupted. “Do this elsewhere.”
Oh yeah, I completely forgot that my father is right here. Even I’m not courageous enough to boldly flirt in front of my parents. My face rapidly heated up, and I broke out into a cold sweat. I awkwardly coughed a few times and changed the subject. “Erm, so, we were talking about Count Baalke’s daughter.”
“Yes. I am aware.”
His tone was so exasperated that I wanted to run away. Oh, whatever, you annoying old man. “Does Miss Sandra not have a fiancé?”
I set aside my jealousy for the time being. Miss Sandra still uses her father’s last name, so she must be unwed. If she has a fiancé, then her attitude toward Sir Leonhart is somewhat of an issue, but if she doesn’t have one, then it’s even more of a problem.
Overtly displaying your affections and asking a married man to dance would make others suspect that you want to become his mistress. It could scare off marriage proposals, so her guardian should’ve put a stop to it from the beginning, yet her escort and uncle, Duke Schletter, spurred her on instead. It’s an unnatural thing to do, and it’s been sitting in the back of my mind this whole time.
“She does not.” My father crossed his long legs and clasped his hands on top of them. “I suppose it would be more accurate to say she used to have one.”
“Was her engagement broken off?” I murmured, digesting his usage of the past tense.
My father nodded. According to him, Miss Sandra had been engaged to the heir of a marquis family, but it had been broken off a few months ago. Publicly, it had been settled amicably, but apparently the marquis side had paid a hefty sum to forcibly sever ties.
“Oh, I see...”
Although Nevel is better than our neighboring countries, our nation still tends to be chauvinistic. Regardless of who is actually at fault, the woman will be the one hurt when a betrothal is called off. It’s sad, but there’s a high probability that she will be called damaged goods and will no longer receive proper marriage offers.
I recalled how Miss Sandra’s eyes had sparkled when she’d looked at Sir Leonhart. I thought it was the admiration of a naive, recent debutante, but perhaps her emotions stemmed from something more urgent.
“You truly are a handful of a daughter.”
“Huh?”
“If you won’t mock her for getting her just deserts, then forget it. Do not burden yourself with the inessential.” My father looked down and let out a short sigh. He spoke in a reprimanding tone, but strangely, his gaze was filled with kindness. “You should only think about your own health and your child’s.”
That didn’t make me feel antagonistic. My father is right, probably. I’ve started forming conjectures about Miss Sandra’s situation from a tiny scrap of information and arbitrarily begun sympathizing with her. Doing that is meaningless. Even if my theory is correct, there’s no way I’ll ever give up my place next to Sir Leonhart.
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
My father nodded back. He reached out his hand. For a moment I wondered what he was going to do, and then he rudely tousled my hair.
“What the?!” Before I could fully react, he suddenly stopped.
“It’s about time for me to return,” he said as though nothing had happened. Then, he stood up. “Goodbye—until next time.”
While I was still dumbfounded, he calmly strolled out of the room.