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A shadow fell across the table.
What’s going on?
Ophelia looked up and sensed Gian stir in his chair.
“This will not do,” a calm, refined voice called out.
Ophelia turned slowly toward the familiar voice. “Lady Stella…”
“Not only do you put your hands on another woman’s fiancé, but you’ve also got designs on yet another man? You really are shameless, aren’t you?” Stella stood with her arms crossed, looking down at Ophelia, a wide-brimmed hat perched atop her flawlessly styled hair.
Gian’s eyes narrowed, and he smoothly rose to his feet, posture perfect. Ophelia’s hands trembled faintly. It seemed Gian had slipped on his facade. “Lady Meucci, I suggest you stop treating my fiancée so disrespectfully.”
“Goodness, fiancée, you say? You really are the cat burglar the rumors make you out to be if you were even able to ensnare a duke who hardly ever shows himself in public.”
A shiver wracked Ophelia’s body, there and gone in a second. Sharp-eyed as ever, Gian didn’t fail to notice.
“A cat burglar? People are calling me that…?” Ophelia asked.
“That’s what they call women who cozy up to engaged men, dear. It fits you perfectly; don’t you agree?”
Stella snorted out a derisive chuckle and raised her chin arrogantly as she spoke. Another shudder ran through Ophelia’s body, causing her to jolt up slightly in her chair. Gian grasped his chin in his hand and tilted his head to the side, examining Stella closely.
“…Your Grace, I’m worried about your eyesight if you believe you see anything of worth in this girl. A plain woman like her is entirely unsuited for someone of your station.”
“You certainly don’t mince your words, Lady Meucci. What makes you think that?”
Stella’s chin jerked up again, and she turned to the side, ignoring Gian’s question. Even for the daughter of a marquis, it was inexcusably rude to ignore a duke. Gian kept Ophelia in the corner of his eye and let one corner of his mouth cock up just a bit.
Sensing a crackle of danger in the atmosphere, Ophelia frantically cleaned up the empty plates scattered across the tabletop.
“Oh! F-Forgive me, Lady Stella! Please, have a seat!”
“Huh? …As if I would be caught dead sitting beside someone like you.”
“Go on, Lady Meucci. Sit.”
Gian pulled out the seat on his other side, his tone making it clear that refusing was not an option. Stella frowned prettily, then reluctantly sat down on the very edge of the proffered seat.
“L-Lady Stella, the tea isn’t very hot anymore, but… Oh, my apologies! I’ll order a fresh pot right away! Please wait just a moment…”
Stella cleared her throat to catch Ophelia’s attention and raised a hand to stop her. “I don’t intend to stay long.”
Ophelia, who’d been in the process of rising to call for a waiter, obediently sat back down. Her shaking had settled down again. It seemed Stella really did plan to leave soon.
Gian, who’d at some point plopped his chin down on his hand with his elbow braced against the table, puffed out his cheeks in an expression of amusement. “I’ve been wanting to have a private conversation with you.”
“…With me?” Stella replied suspiciously.
Gian placed a rather squashed leftover cream puff on a plate and set it in front of Stella. “I want you to make absolutely certain that you marry Claudio.”
“What?! Haven’t you been listening to a thing I’ve been saying?!”
Ophelia poured the lukewarm tea into a fresh cup and had just set it down beside the cream puff when Stella grabbed her hand.
“O-Oh! I just thought you might like something to drink with your sweets…!”
“I told you I don’t want it! I have no desire to make friends with the two of you!”
“Oh, I want to hold hands with Lady Meucci too!” Gian chimed in.
“Both of you, listen to me!”
“Lady Stella, um, uh, these strawberries are delicious on their own, but they taste even better if you put them on the cream puff.”
“You’re such a good girl, Ophie.”
“Stop it! You’re trying to change the topic!”
“I’m so sorry! Would you like to take a look at the menu, Lady Stella?” Ophelia asked.
“So, what do you say, Lady Meucci? Shall we combine forces?” Gian asked.
“What in the world are you talking about?!”
Stella’s loud shriek caused several passersby on the street below to stop and stare up at the terrace. She frantically covered her mouth with one hand and used the other to pull the hat down a bit further to hide her face.
“A-Anyways, Lady Ophelia. You simply must stop this flighty behavior of yours.”
“Y-Yes, of course.”
Although Ophelia reflexively agreed, she honestly didn’t really understand what Stella meant. But something told her this wasn’t the time to mention that, so she kept her mouth shut.
Still leaning his chin on his hand, Gian remarked with a sigh, “Lady Meucci, you contradict yourself. I would think that Ophelia and I marrying would be in your best interest as well…”
“I… felt the need, as a member of this country’s nobility, to warn her about how unbecoming such a careless attitude is for a lady, that’s all…”
Gian glanced discreetly over at Ophelia. She was hiding her hands under the table, but by this point, even her shoulders had begun trembling. With a quiet, “Hmm…” Gian pinched his chin, deep in thought.
“Lady Ophelia, please cease meeting alone like this with men whom you aren’t even formally engaged to,” Stella said. “That should be the most basic of common sense for any unmarried noblewoman. All right, then, stand up. It’s time to go.”
“Huh? B-But I still haven’t eaten the cake I was saving for last!”
“Ophie is the type to save her favorites for last,” Gian explained.
“I don’t care about such nonsense!” Stella slapped both hands down on the table, causing the stacked plates to rattle and clink together.
Gian slid his hand from his chin to cover his mouth, concealing the fact that he was smirking. “Why did you really come here, Lady Meucci?” he asked.
Slightly calmer—but only slightly—Stella glared in Ophelia’s direction. “You’re the ones colluding here in such a public place, and you’re asking me why? I heard that you were having a secret tryst here and raced right over, of course.”
“I see, so rumors of our date reached all the way to you… If so, then he should be here any minute…”
“Who should be here any minute?”
Ophelia tilted her head to the side, confused, but Stella gasped and leapt to her feet, ripping off her hat as she did. Then Stella screwed up her mouth and looked down at Ophelia with fierce determination in her eyes.
“Lady Ophelia! How dare you cozy up to my fiancé?!”
Stella’s sudden and loud outburst when she’d just been concealing her face made Ophelia’s body shake, for more than one reason. As expected, the passersby stopped and gawked at the sight of a marquis’s daughter worked up into an unholy rage.
“You’re just the daughter of a small-time, worthless earldom; you have a lot of nerve trying to curry favor with a duke!”
Under the gentle, balmy sun, the white skin of Stella’s cheeks, partially shaded by her long eyelashes, was slightly flushed.
Ophelia hadn’t stopped shaking since the moment Stella arrived. It was abundantly clear that her words and attitude were all lies.