My Vengeful Former Lover - Chapter 84
When the empress set foot in the room, she saw Lucius with her husband and imperceptibly rolled her eyes. Hiding a smile behind her fluttering fan, she walked toward them and congratulated Sir Elliot on ‘winning’ the estate.
Seeing how the emperor and empress had congratulated the new Northum Lords, the other nobles had no choice but to force themselves to offer their compliments as well.
“I can’t even begin to describe how lucky Sir Elliot is to rule a territory like Northum.”
“That is only natural! Do you really think the emperor would wrong his most trusted subordinate?”
“Sir Elliot has done a splendid job so far! Even Pekka’s estate was revived because of him.”
However, even after saying such flattery in front of the empress, she didn’t look impressed. When she left shortly after, there was a covert change in their compliments.
“Say,” one of them whispered, “if monsters appear in our territory, do you reckon I can seek help from Sir Elliot?”
A madam answered.
“What are you talking about, madam? Of course, Sir Elliot would answer your call and brilliantly defeat those atrocities! But in the end,” her expression changed into one of pity, “Sir Elliot—pardon, Lord Northum—would already be so busy ruling the estate with his wife.”
“Oh, then we must relieve him of his boredom! Slaying monsters is, after all, a much more thrilling endeavor.”
Even though Deatrice was standing directly in front of them, their conversation continued as if she was invisible. Then, their faces feigned surprise as if they had just discovered her presence and looked at her with mock sympathy.
“I do hope this story does not offend you, Lady Northum? Husbands do tend to tire of… pretty things quite easily these days.”
“Yes, we are only concerned for you.”
What else could Deatrice say to that? To Baroness Bowman? Should she mention how her son is an utter simpleton? Or should she make a point that Lady Watton’s husband is almost never home? Though, perhaps she should worry more about the poor harvest of their Tupin Estate…
Since she had just received the estate and is technically one of them, Deatrice could only nod her head and pretend to go along with what they said.
Bowman’s son’s close friends are intelligent, but they had to make themselves appear dumber than they actually are for the sake of their highborn friend’s pride. If any sensible words were to come out of his mouth, chances are, they were suggested by these friends. This was why he was commended in public for being smart.
Deatrice didn’t know how it was exactly related, but because of that, it paved the way for Count Watton’s wanderlust. For the Tupin estate, well, they extolled it for its simplicity anyways…
But none of those would have anything to do with her anymore. After all, a year later, she’d be wearing black clothes in a small mansion in a faraway country—away from all these social issues.
As she thought about it, bickering with them now simply feels too inconsequential.
Conversing with them was tiring, to say the least, so she briefly murmured an excuse. However, when Deatrice craned her neck to look at the entrance, she saw Prince Edin making his way through the crowd.
Auburn-haired with an aristocratic nose, the prince was a decently handsome man known for using his rank to enjoy fleeting games with young girls.
Deatrice had been courted by numerous suitors before, but she recalled how much she struggled to get him off her tail, a squire spouting gibberish that she was his one and only true love.
As if on reflex, a grimace appeared on her face which she deftly hid behind her purple fan. She inadvertently saw the face of his fiancée as she held onto the prince’s arm.
Beatrice Stockdale, the first princess of the neighboring country, Weeken. Deatrice considered her pretty, except maybe for her nose which she found was a bit too high for her liking.
But to Prince Edin, having her as his fiancée was nothing more than fulfilling his duty to provide heirs of royalty. As soon as they entered, he kissed the back of her fingers and sent her away.
Deatrice saw her walking away with a group of men.
When he spoke with a close friend, Prince Edin was constantly looking around, as if searching for someone. Deatrice badly wanted to keep her face hidden, but if she did and he caught her, he might mistake it as her being shy or coy with him and she would find it even harder to explain.
Sighing to herself, she begrudgingly lowered her fan. The second she did that, their eyes met immediately.
After exchanging unexpected yet brief eye contact with her, the prince looked at his colleague once again. If it was in the past, he would’ve immediately harassed her with his mere presence asking for a dance and gushing out streams of flattery about her beauty.
Slightly relieved, Deatrice realized the prince may have really lost all interest in her after being married. Furthermore, he would now have the heart to look at other beautiful young girls now that she was off the market.
After some time, Deatrice sought out Lucius to tell him that she would return first. Dancing was already meaningless and hearing empty compliments from irrelevant ladies made things much more of a bore. She couldn’t believe that she had endured this kind of life back when she was still a little socialite.
The warm light of the chandelier touched on the exposed skin of the ladies, turning them aglow with orange-tinted pearlescence. Music and the low-pitched murmur became more muted. One side of the banquet hall was busy with dancing and Deatrice made a beeline towards that location in search of a neatly curled blonde.
It wasn’t too difficult to find him.
With his tall stature and ravishing appearance, he definitely wouldn’t be lost in a crowd because he stood out like a sore thumb. Deatrice doesn’t love him anymore, but she had to admit he really had the features of a hero.
Their eyes met briefly, however, Lucius looked at the watch in his pocket to indicate he was busy and returned to his prior conversation.
A mocking retort entered her mind.
He’s busy—busy making arrangements for our imminent separation.
Deatrice thought that it would be better for her to go home alone, hence, she disappeared among the throng of ladies who walked her way.
Outside of the hall and along the corridors to her room, she pressed her back against a wall and twitched her ankles to see if she was okay. Because her ankle was weak, it always hurt after a ball.
She felt someone approach her and supported her other hand. Deatrice thought it would be Lucius, of course, and said, leaning on that hand. “Why did you come to me? I thought you were still too busy earlier.”
But she heard a different voice than she had expected.
“Of course, it’s fine. Why wouldn’t I be available for you?” a smug tone answered.
It was the voice she dreaded to hear the most. As Deatrice turned her head in surprise, she saw the smiling face of Prince Edin.