072. Did You Not Learn Manners?

I had sought the Empress Dowager’s opinion before bringing the Marquis of Chase to his knees, but I had not bothered to ask the Grand Duke’s.

The reason was simple: I did not believe the Marquis of Chase held any particular significance to the Grand Duke.

Many were uneasy around the Grand Duke, but he had no reason to maintain their hostility. Whether the Marquis of Chase changed his mind or remained the same was of little consequence to him.

Besides, I already knew that not long after my own visit to the Empress Dowager, the Grand Duke himself had gone to see her.

If he had truly wished to stop me, he had ample opportunity.

But instead of restraining me, the Grand Duke had sat across from me at tea and hadn’t even mentioned the Marquis of Chase. I took that silence as permission and proceeded with my plan.

First of all, I needed an opportunity to meet the Marquis again.

Naturally, someone of his high rank wasn’t someone one could just run into on the street. Knowing his schedule in advance was crucial.

And the only person I could rely on for such information was, of course, Fania.

“Are you really going alone? Didn’t you say the Marquis was rude to you last time?”

Fania was beside herself with worry as she clung to my arm. She had not only stolen the Marquis’s salon reservation and booked mine for the same time, but had even escorted me here to make sure I didn’t get lost.

She was insisting on coming along, as if she feared I might cry again after being insulted.

Really. Both Tula and Fania had seen me make others cry before—so why did they think I might burst into tears at someone else’s words?

“I’ll be fine, Fania. My nurse is coming with me, isn’t she?”

“But if the Marquis picks a fight, your nurse can’t exactly fight back.”

That nurse, however, was the very one who had nearly lost her head on my first day in the Empire for refusing to wake me when I was ill, even under the Emperor’s direct command.

I wanted to say that aloud, but since all dealings between the Emperor and me were secrets, I could only squeeze Fania’s hand instead.

“If anything happens, I’ll have my nurse run to the café where you’re waiting and let you know.”

Of course, nothing of the sort would ever happen. But since I couldn’t explain to her exactly how I planned to flatten the Marquis’s pride, this was the only way to reassure her.

At last, only after confirming three times with Tula that he knew exactly where the café was, Fania reluctantly left.

I could have brought her along, but really—I didn’t want to show anyone the ugliness of crushing another person. This wasn’t about character; it was about stripping away pride.

“Well then, shall we go, Tula?”

“As you command.”

With flawless etiquette, Tula escorted me, and the salon-goers’ gazes turned toward us.

Simple clothing, but of fine quality fabric. Perfect manners.

“Right this way. I was told you didn’t request a private room, is that correct?”

Sure enough, the staff member who greeted us seemed to take Tula for the true guest.

That was precisely what I intended—he appeared not as a mere attendant following a noble lady, but as my guardian.

I had carefully spread information that Tula, once a commoner, was in fact a noble. It suited my right hand perfectly.

“That’s right,” Tula replied smoothly, as if it were natural the staff would address him. “Her Highness the Princess only wishes to browse lightly today, so no fuss is needed. Just answer her questions when asked—that will suffice.”

“I understand. Then, is there a particular item you would like to see first?”

“Hair ornaments, perhaps.”

That was my cue.

The staff led me toward the hair accessories with a polite smile.

I needed to make some kind of purchase—if only as a rental fee for using the salon’s space. But when should I decide on one? Should I choose something first, then face the Marquis? Or should I deal with him first and then pick anything at random afterward?

As I was mulling over that question with only half interest in the displays, my target arrived.

From near the entrance came the voices of staff greeting the Marquis of Chase and a young woman explaining the purpose of their visit.

From her youthful tone, it wasn’t his wife—it must be his daughter.

“Are there any with jeweled decorations?”

I raised my voice deliberately, not looking toward the entrance, so that the Marquis’s party would hear me.

It worked. I felt his gaze shift toward me.

Come.

Sure enough, the sharp click of shoes against marble drew closer.

Last time, he had turned me away without so much as a greeting. Now, finding me without any “protection,” surely he wouldn’t miss the chance to pick a fight.

Though honestly, this felt too easy. Did it not occur to him that if I burst into tears here, my reputation might suffer first, but his would collapse as well? Making a young girl cry in public—especially when even his daughter was older than me—would reflect far worse on him.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Her Highness Princess Blanche.”

Really now. Even after being warned by the Grand Duke not to address me so casually, he hadn’t changed his habits. Old habits die hard.

Suppressing a sigh, I stepped back. At the same time, Tula stepped forward, addressing him directly.

“You know Her Highness?”

The Marquis’s eyes swept over Tula. With his slightly lowered gaze, his deferential hands folded before him, and his meek tone, Tula looked every bit the servant.

The staff had mistaken him for a noble. The Marquis, however, took him for my attendant.

Exactly as planned.

“Your Highness, I would advise you to re-educate your servant. Perhaps in your kingdom it is different, but here, a servant’s manners reflect their master’s dignity.”

I let him finish before stepping forward, closing the distance I’d retreated, and meeting his gaze squarely.

“And your name is?”

My voice was cold, hard, far too sharp for a thirteen-year-old girl. The Marquis flinched but quickly straightened, unwilling to cower before a child, and replied.

“Roland. Roland Hudin Chase. Marquis of Chase.”

“Very well, Marquis. Then may I take your words just now as an insult to both my chief lady-in-waiting, Tula, and to myself?”

His gaze wavered, though he did not yet break.

Again his eyes flicked to Tula, but she stood tall, spine straight, her gaze fixed firmly on his. Any excuse that she had been standing like a mere maid earlier would no longer hold.

“Your chief lady-in-waiting, you say?”

“Yes.”

At my curt answer, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Hm, well… I must have misunderstood. In the Empire, one doesn’t normally bring one’s chief lady-in-waiting to shop—”

“Marquis.”

This time, I cut him off deliberately.

“…Yes.”

“You said earlier: ‘Perhaps it is different in the kingdom.’ Which means you already knew I was from the Kingdom of Lamore, and that customs differ. Correct?”

“…That is correct.”

“And there is no law in the Empire forbidding a chief lady-in-waiting from accompanying her mistress to shop. Is there?”

“…No, there is not.”

“Then this was entirely your misjudgment. Isn’t that so?”

“…Yes.”

“Then you ought to apologize.”

“I misjudged, and—”

“No.”

I cut him off again, my tone even colder.

“You should first apologize to my lady-in-waiting, whom you insulted as though she were a common servant.”

The Marquis’s face stiffened.

Here, only nobles could serve as ladies-in-waiting. But still, among nobles there was hierarchy: a high-ranking Marquis versus a low-ranking noblewoman in service.

Worse, he was a noble of the Empire; she, of a minor kingdom.

Bowing to me, a candidate for Grand Duchess, could be excused as losing a little face. But bowing to Tula would be humiliation.

And this was no secluded corner—it was the main hall of a prestigious salon, with every noble present watching.

“I… made a mistake, so perhaps…”

Trying to wriggle out of it. I cut him short once more.

“Marquis.”

This time, his voice was subdued, small compared to his earlier tone. I leaned in with equal quietness.

“The Grand Duke himself has warned you before—not to address your betters without permission. And yet you refuse to change.”

The Marquis flushed red, like a man scolded by a child.

But he did not argue. Perhaps he judged that while the Grand Duke might not complain to the Empress Dowager about him, I certainly could.

“Did you not learn manners?”

My words pressed harder, and his breath grew harsh. But I had no intention of stopping there.

“Are those your children and grandchildren behind you?”

His face stiffened visibly. He understood my meaning.

This was precisely why I had chosen to confront him here.

The Marquis had no personal connection to me; he had no granddaughter who might one day become Grand Duchess. Which meant I had no leverage over him directly.

“I wonder what they have learned from one so ill-mannered.”

But his grandchildren would one day enter society—the very society I would dominate as Grand Duchess.

If I wished to break the Marquis, it would be through them. And for that, I needed them present.

After those words, I shifted my gaze past the Marquis to the child behind him.

Still too young to sit still, unlike his anxious mother or grandmother, the boy was restlessly glancing around.

“…I have committed a grave discourtesy. I beg your forgiveness.”

At last, under silent pressure, the Marquis yielded. He bowed to Tula and apologized.

Because of his stalling, even the nobles who had been browsing in private rooms had come out to watch. The audience was larger than ever.

“It’s quite all right. People do make mistakes,” Tula said generously. “Please raise your head.”

He then turned to apologize to me as well.

“We’ll see whether this lesson truly takes effect. I shall watch next time too.”

Instead of accepting his apology, I left him with words that placed me above him, as though I were evaluating him.

As I departed, I paid for the jeweled hair ornament the staff had brought out at my request—my token expense for the encounter.