Chapter 59
A Golden Opportunity
But Cardian soon smiled placidly and spoke.
“Becky, I’ve decided to attend Count Peña’s party tomorrow. The dress code is blue.”
“I already have plans for tomorr—”
Cardian stared at her intently. Beckysh, who had dared to mention another engagement, quickly folded her hands politely and lowered her eyes.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll prepare.”
“Good.”
Cardian smiled again. They exchanged a few light words as if nothing had happened—mundane conversation typical of a harmonious married couple.
But once Beckysh left the room, Cardian’s expression hardened.
His wife had started to irritate him lately.
Truly, it felt like it was time to find a new toy.
Under the scorching sun, women gathered in the fields fanned themselves vigorously. With not a single cloud in sight, the sunlight felt even more intense.
“My, Lady Marianne, you don’t seem to sweat at all.”
A woman beside her struck up conversation. Marianne slowly flicked her fan with elegance and replied in a refined tone.
“Oh, I do feel hot. I just don’t sweat, physiologically.”
“So envious.”
“As expected of Lady Marianne.”
Marianne smiled sweetly at the women beside her. In truth, she had concealed frozen cooling packs deep inside her garments. The biting chill of them touched her bare skin. They would melt quickly in this heat, but they were enough to endure the brief sun exposure.
The reason for holding a student concert, supposedly sponsored by the young Empress, in such a location was obvious.
The scenery made for great photos.
People are easily swayed by visuals. Well-shot photos would decorate news articles beautifully and help foster the image of an empire that cared about welfare.
Clearly, it was a carrot policy in response to the growing revolutionary forces. Most likely, her son had a hand in this.
“But you came alone today?”
“No, my daughter-in-law will join me soon.”
“Oh! Lady Beckysh will be here!”
“No, the elder daughter-in-law is attending Count Peña’s charity event. Today, the younger one will be joining me.”
“You’ve been appearing together more often lately. Both Lady Beckysh and Lady Ansi were with you at the opening of the July festival too, weren’t they?”
“Yes, they were.”
“Oh my! There she is. She’s just as lovely as you, Lady Marianne.”
Marianne shifted her gaze. Ansi approached, her black hair neatly tied and a bonnet perched atop her head. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the heat, but the rosy tint on her pale skin only added to her vitality.
Their eyes met. Ansi paused and bowed. Marianne returned the gesture with a smile. Ansi resumed walking toward her.
Her posture was steady, and her pace—neither too fast nor too slow—was quite impressive. Though from a fallen family, she had lived over twenty years as a count’s daughter. Grace, it seemed, was in her bones.
“Ansi, you look lovely today.”
“I tried my best. I still feel embarrassed standing next to you, Mother.”
Marianne smiled in satisfaction at Ansi’s reply. When they had first met, she had seemed stiff, but now she knew how to speak with grace.
She had been visiting the Orphey residence quite frequently over the past few weeks—an admirable change.
Initially, Marianne had accepted her begrudgingly, due to a promise with Damion. She had brought Ansi along to events she was required to attend as the lady of House Orphey.
But over time, she began to change her mind. Though shy, Ansi followed instructions without complaint, and with a little polish, she looked rather decent. Marianne found herself genuinely liking her.
Marianne was adept at reading admiration in people’s eyes.
Good looks shine brightest when accompanied by power and wealth. Though seemingly unrelated, those values create synergy when combined, elevating their worth.
That desperate longing felt with every step—Marianne relished being seen as an idol.
Even in private, she never revealed her discord with Damion. She hadn’t even told her closest aides about his origins.
And now, with Damion behaving more tamely even in private… for the first time in ages, she felt they could fake a peaceful, normal family.
“Come, let’s greet Her Majesty the Empress.”
Marianne led Ansi forward.
Empress Amelia, standing beneath a large canopy held up by attendants, saw them first and extended her hand.
“Have you been well, Your Majesty?”
“Lady Orphey, thank you for coming.”
“Of course. This is…”
“I know her. She’s the second son’s wife, isn’t she?”
Ansi stepped forward and bowed.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesty. I am Ansi de Orphey.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
Amelia smiled kindly at her.
Ansi lowered her eyes politely while discreetly observing the empress.
Ansi’s revenge would culminate in an assassination attempt on the emperor. Even if it didn’t result in death, it needed to be severe enough to count as treason.
There wouldn’t be many chances. And of all people, the empress was closest to the emperor. This encounter might be the start of something.
“The children practiced very hard. I hope you enjoy the concert today. Though I do worry it’s a bit too hot…”
Amelia glanced toward the children setting up and furrowed her brows in concern. She genuinely seemed worried.
Ansi was surprised. A concert under this blazing sun? She had assumed it was a publicity stunt orchestrated by the empress.
Even the warm tone and gentle demeanor were unexpectedly sincere. Far from the aristocratic, authoritative figure she had imagined from the newspapers.
‘…This must all be an act too.’
Ansi shook her head internally. Trying to read sincerity in this moment wouldn’t help.
“I heard you’ll be visiting Sobelevio for a hunt in August, Your Majesty. From the young marquess.”
Marianne’s comment made Ansi pause.
“Yes, thank you for the invitation.”
Amelia smiled. She didn’t seem particularly thrilled—hunting probably wasn’t her interest.
“The estate’s chefs are busy. While the men enjoy their hunt, we shall indulge in a variety of dishes and desserts.”
Marianne chuckled behind her fan.
The field was filling quickly. Reporters began to position themselves. They started by photographing the children seated with their instruments.
After a few shots, the head reporter shouted toward the crowd.
“Photos before the start, please!”
Everyone pulled out mirrors for final touch-ups, then gathered around the children.
Staring at the camera, everyone tried to look their best—eyes wide, chins lowered. The picture would be in the papers, so they needed to appear beautiful.
“All done!”
With the photo session over, the crowd dispersed.
“Let’s head back.”
Marianne turned without hesitation and walked toward the carriage. Ansi couldn’t hide her furrowed brows and asked,
“Aren’t we staying for the concert?”
“It’s too hot.”
“Oh…”
Ansi followed after her, glancing back. Over half the crowd had left. Her eyes settled on Amelia, who somehow looked… disheartened.
“Come to the August hunt with Damion.”
Ansi quickly turned toward Marianne.
“He’ll need to attend this time—prominent young nobles will be there, and with Her Majesty present, he really must come.”
She understood now why Damion hadn’t gone last year.
She recalled how he had frozen at the sound of Gerris’s gunshot.
He likely hadn’t wanted to spend time with House Orphey either… but more than that, it had been the trauma.
Damion would probably try to avoid the hunt again.
But—
“Yes, I’ll definitely go.”
For Ansi, this was the perfect opportunity.
At the current pace, by August, she would be known more as Ansi de Orphey than Ansi de Lubelsa.
The August hunt. If someone bearing the Orphey name shot the emperor in Orphey’s own territory…
It would undeniably be labeled treason.
Ansi clasped her faintly trembling hands together, squeezing tight.
The thought that her day of revenge was near sent an electric jolt from her toes all the way to her head.
Time passed quickly.
Ansi accompanied Marianne to almost every event leading up to the Sobelevio trip.
Today, for the first time in days, she finally made time for her own errand.
After dropping a letter into the post office’s large mailbox, Ansi hurried away. Only when the building was out of sight did she slow her pace and exhale deeply.
“Whew…”
Suddenly, a commotion caught her attention. She stepped into a crowd and looked ahead—there was a protest by the revolutionary army.
The placards they held bore slogans that criticized the recent concert, almost as if targeting it directly.
