Chapter 67
“Welcome, everyone.”
Today’s hostess, Faustina Lacroix, greeted her guests with a radiant smile.
In the estate’s garden, rows of gazebos had been set up. The tables were decorated with elegance and refinement, arranged with pink as the main theme of the day.
Those who had arrived early were already holding pale-pink champagne flutes, exchanging pleasant conversation.
Among them moved the Lacroix servants, dressed in the house’s deep green livery and ties of vivid rose-pink. Their attire matched the theme of the tea party perfectly, and their graceful, orderly movements attended to every guest with polished care.
Faustina swept her gaze across the garden, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. The picture was like a painting come alive, accompanied by the gentle strains of a string quartet. Everything was perfect.
“The fiancée of His Highness the First Prince, Lady Sylaria Rainier, has arrived.”
Ripples spread across the once placid scene like a breeze stirring a still lake. At the butler’s announcement, the hum of voices abruptly ceased.
The First Prince’s fiancée, the woman who had set the capital’s social world ablaze with rumors and speculation.
“She really came?”
“They say even royalty rush to answer Lacroix invitations. Looks like it’s true.”
“She’s not royal yet. You never know what can happen.”
Under the weight of countless stares, Sylaria entered with her back straight and her chin high. She approached the hostess with perfect poise and offered a calm smile.
“Thank you for inviting me, Countess Lacroix.”
“It is I who should thank you for gracing us with your presence. Please, call me Faustina.”
“Then please call me Sylaria, Madam Faustina.”
Sylaria’s bright and warm manner drew a gentle smile from Faustina.
“I do hope today proves an enjoyable occasion for you, Sylaria. Marie, show our guest to her seat.”
At Faustina’s command, a maid approached to guide Sylaria to her table. Sylaria followed with quiet composure, thinking the atmosphere was not as hostile as she had expected.
Until she saw who awaited her.
“Well, if it isn’t Lady Sylaria.”
Seated at the table was Aria, a lady-in-waiting to the Empress. She had been chatting idly with the young noblewomen beside her, but now she regarded Sylaria with an expression edged in mischief.
“His Highness Euclid rides out to face monsters, yet here you are, leisurely attending a tea party. You truly are remarkable.”
At Aria’s cutting remark, the air around the table chilled. Sylaria stood tall and silent, looking down at her.
‘So this is it.’
Aria’s provocation itself was no surprise.
It was clear that she intended to humiliate Sylaria at her very first social debut, in front of every influential guest present.
‘Has Faustina Lacroix joined in this scheme as well?’
Aria was the Empress’s loyal shadow, so her behavior was predictable. But the fact that Sylaria’s seat had been placed right beside hers, well. That decision belonged to the hostess, Faustina.
Was this deliberate, or merely the result of seating imperial connections together?
‘I’ll know soon enough.’
If Faustina simply stood by and watched from afar, she was with Aria. But if she stepped in and stopped her, then this was not her design.
Sylaria smiled sweetly and spoke.
“Aria, are you saying it’s wrong of me to attend a tea party while His Highness is away hunting monsters?”
“You know exactly what I meant. Why ask?”
“I’m just surprised. Isn’t it unfair to accuse someone of enjoying a tea party? If so, what would that make of our gracious hostess, Madam Faustina, who organized this gathering?”
“T-That’s not what I meant!”
Flustered, Aria shot to her feet, hurriedly addressing the onlookers who had begun to gather, intrigued.
“You and I aren’t the same, are we, Lady Rainier? Your fiancé going on expedition is—”
“I was invited here by Madam Faustina herself, Aria.”
“Stop twisting my words! Coming here to leap from one marriage to another!”
Of course.
At last the word burst from Aria’s mouth, ‘leap remarriage’, the scandal whispered through the capital. A murmur swept through the guests, sharp eyes turning to Sylaria.
Aria’s face lit with triumphant satisfaction.
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