Chapter 36
***
“So, what you’re telling me is that up to now you’ve been following the manual… for your marital relations?”
“Yes.”
“Unbelievable.”
Amelia let out a disbelieving laugh and pressed a hand to her forehead.
“Beatrice, what are we going to do with you? Well, I suppose we did raise you like a little baby.”
She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and muttered a few things Beatrice couldn’t catch.
“I can see why the Margrave went along. You’re so adorable. What else could he do but do whatever you wanted?”
Because Amelia kept chuckling for quite a while after that, Beatrice gradually began to feel annoyed.
“There really hasn’t been anything that didn’t suit us…”
“Sure, sure. But you do realize that manual from your nanny was written more than a hundred years ago, right? I got a copy too. She’s old‑fashioned, probably thought that level of knowledge was just right for a young noble lady.”
“But I…”
“I know, Betty. I’m not saying you did anything wrong. I’m just guessing the Margrave’s probably been accommodating you in ways you haven’t noticed. You two still aren’t comfortable enough to talk openly about those things. Apart from that, there’s no sign he’s tired of you—if anything, you’re like a boy and girl who just started dating.”
After a few more giggles, Amelia finally came to the point.
“What you two need isn’t this pointless tug‑of‑war—it’s proper s*x.”
At her third sister’s blunt, explicit advice, Beatrice’s cheeks flushed the usual bright red.
“The men I’ve known—well, after a single spectacular night, they’d spill family secrets or state secrets, whatever.”
“Caesar is…”
“Sure, the Margrave might be different. But at the very least it could be a chance for you two to be honest, right? That’s marriage. You can fight like you’ll divorce tomorrow and make up after one bout of s*x.”
Whether Beatrice’s face was turning into a roasted beet or not, Amelia kept talking.
“Work on him. Men are simple beasts, Betty. Seduce him and get what you want.”
What I want… to know my husband’s true feelings for me.
Could that really be gained through the bed?
Amelia’s advice, almost the exact opposite of Regina’s, left Beatrice a little flustered.
Yet, not having to force distance between herself and Caesar made this approach seem better.
“All that’s fine, but… can I really do it?”
Half convinced by Amelia already, Beatrice began wondering how to put the idea into practice.
She had clung to that stuffy bedroom‑etiquette manual from her nanny. As a noble daughter she had always tried to stay within the bounds her parents set. Insisting on marrying Caesar had been her first and maybe last act of rebellion, and Amelia’s talk of a “spectacular night” belonged to an entirely different world.
But… perhaps it was a world she wanted to try.
And for Beatrice in that state, Amelia standing before her was the perfect teacher—the very herald permitting her descent into sweet corruption.
“One day I really did think I ought to pass my knowledge on to my innocent little sister.”
Smiling like the most beautiful devil in the world, Amelia drew two palm‑sized books from the pocket of the cape over her shoulder and handed them to her.
“Start with these.”
Beatrice accepted them in silence.
Do you carry things like this around all the time…?—the question hovered on her tongue, but she knew better than to voice it.
The well‑worn, glossy pages looked as though they might contain some mysterious power.
Opening to a random spot without thinking, Beatrice yelped and dropped the book.
“Don’t just flip it open anywhere. Anyway, if you read those you’ll learn almost everything you need. Good luck, Betty.”
Wearing the bright expression of someone lending a wholesome educational text, Amelia said she had another engagement and left the lounge. Only much later could Beatrice slip out, the books hidden deep in the folds of her ample skirt.
Her heart hammered as if she had stolen something for the first time in her life. If anyone saw her with these books, both her own reputation and Caesar’s would be ruined. The thought made her all the more fearful.
So preoccupied was she that she failed to notice the shawl sliding from her shoulders the moment she stepped out.
Entering the crowded main hall doubled her tension. What if I bump into someone and drop the books…?
While searching for an escape, she spotted her husband approaching from the opposite side.
I’ll claim I’m unwell and get us home at once, she decided, starting toward him.
“Beatrice!”
A voice called from behind. She turned.
“I recognized the fabric and thought it might be yours.”
The thin shawl she hadn’t realized she’d lost was in Edgar’s hand.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Still fumbling with her skirt, she watched the Crown Prince chuckle and settle the shawl neatly over her shoulders.
“Careless thing. You should be more careful.”
“Beatrice.”
The voice came from the other side; she jumped and looked up. Caesar had hurried over and now stood before them.
“C‑Caesar. I’m not feeling well—I’d like to go home.”
Blurting it out, she at once regretted it. Pale and flustered, she must have looked suspicious to anyone.
“Let’s leave immediately.”
The moment Edgar’s hand left the shawl, Caesar pulled her to him, wrapping her shoulders as though reclaiming her.
“Then, please excuse us,” he said—too curt and rough a tone for the future Emperor.
Left with his hand still half‑raised, the Crown Prince froze, then laughed in disbelief once the couple disappeared.
“Such a seditious glare.”
If treason could be tried by looks alone, Caesar Valentin would have been executed on the spot. Yet if the cause was simply mad love for his wife…
“Well, for Beatrice’s sake I suppose I can overlook it once.”
Still chuckling, the Crown Prince turned away, setting off to find his fiancée who had just come to mind.
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