Chapter 50

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 50

Chapter Title: Until the Heir is Born

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“Is there some secret to capturing a man’s heart?”

The moment Clodel spoke those words, Madam Marcel’s mind raced through every possible scenario.

Her first thought was, Does the Duchess, who’s barely been in Rowen, already have another man?

If not, why would she want to know the secret to capturing a man’s heart?

This was all premised on the fact that Clodel’s husband—and Madam Marcel’s employer—Duke Kaiyan of House Temneth was utterly smitten with her.

There’d be no reason to try capturing the heart of a man already in her grasp.

Yet Madam Marcel dismissed that notion as absurd.

Duke Kaiyan of House Temneth’s reputation was renowned even in the capital, far from Rowen territory.

He had marched off to the Five-Year War, and since returning from the battlefield, he’d devoted himself to governing his lands, rarely setting foot in the capital or its social circles. Still, noble ladies who admired him were a dime a dozen.

The Kingdom of Oberon was in the midst of a dire shortage of marriageable noblemen.

Women had no luxury to be picky about looks, personality, or preferences. Some were even willing to marry scarred foreign nobles if their wealth, status, and lineage were secure.

In that context, a strikingly attractive young duke was a beacon of hope for the capital’s eligible ladies. Knowing there was a promising match right within Oberon, without having to leave for foreign lands and able to uphold their family’s prestige, brought immense comfort.

But the king had abruptly ordered Kaiyan to marry, removing him from the marriage market. This had undoubtedly diminished loyalty to King Valquiter among capital nobles with daughters by about thirty percent.

For his duchess to have wandering eyes with a husband like that?

...No way that’s possible.

Madam Marcel managed a response amid her confusion.

“Ah, a man’s heart? Whose in particular...”

“Who else? The one whose heart I want to win.”

“Then you mean you want to win the lord’s heart?”

“Yes.”

Armed with years of social savvy, Madam Marcel suppressed her bewildered expression and the laughter bubbling up inside.

It’s the first day. It’s the first day. Can’t offend the lady I need to serve from day one.

She repeated it to herself endlessly.

“It was such a sudden marriage, after all. Neither he nor I were prepared, and Rowen and Valmond are so far apart we never even met before the wedding.”

Clodel was earnest.

“I’ve barely been in Rowen long, too.”

“I see. So that’s how you feel.”

“On top of that, House Temneth and House Vermonte... You know that, right?”

Madam Marcel felt a sudden urge to reveal the fortune Kaiyan had promised her for Clodel.

If the amount a husband spends on his wife’s adornments measures how much he’s given his heart, then the lord has handed over his soul.

At the same time, Clodel’s innocence made her all the more endearing, swelling the fondness Madam Marcel had felt from her looks and aura alone.

Madam Marcel was utterly charmed by Clodel.

She even understood why Kaiyan had fallen for her.

If the bride from House Vermonte had come bristling with enmity, sharp as a blade, it would have sparked resentment naturally.

Yet Clodel was breathtakingly beautiful, yet seemed so pure and humble. A beauty like hers would be constantly praised by men around her, making it impossible for her not to know her own allure—and typically inflating her ego.

But Clodel showed no arrogance or haughtiness, and she was approaching this enemy marriage with sincerity.

She wants to win her husband’s heart!

The world was full of women who, just because they were somewhat pretty, thought they could steal other women’s husbands.

Madam Marcel herself—a renowned beauty with exceptional talent and business repute—had been divorced after her husband strayed.

With a lowly maid from her own salon, no less—one fresh from the countryside, still reeking of the provinces, who’d been doing odd jobs there.

That betrayal had scarred her deeply and bruised her pride.

Hearing Clodel’s words now felt refreshingly pure.

She resolved to grant the lady’s wish.

“If you get along well with the lord, it could reconcile the feuding houses that have plagued Oberon’s history for generations. Wonderful. Just leave it to me.”

Madam Marcel declared boldly.

“I’ll do everything in my power to help you capture the lord’s heart completely.”

“Really? You’ll do that?”

“Of course. Ho ho ho.”

Convinced Kaiyan’s heart was already Clodel’s, Madam Marcel freely issued her empty promises with glee.

As she bid farewell and left the lady’s chambers, she grabbed Hanna the moment the door closed.

“How could you not know?”

“Haa.”

Hanna let out a deep sigh right away.

Evidently, the lady’s devoted maid was well aware that Kaiyan was head over heels for Clodel.

“It’s all the lord’s doing.”

“Why?”

“His actions don’t match his words.”

“For example?”

“He shells out a fortune to bring a top madam and new seamstresses from the capital, then tells the lady it’s ‘to uphold the duchess’s dignity.’”

“Oh my. Really?”

Hanna was thrilled to finally have someone to vent her frustrations to.

“Once, he went to the market square and cleaned out a jeweler.”

“Cleaned it out?”

“Miss—no, my lady—must’ve packed poorly when leaving the North. We loaded up tons of jewelry, but it was all gone, which was strange. Turns out the lord demanded every gem in the shop.”

“I want to see it. Oh, not selfishly—just to make matching outfits. Actually, yes, selfishly. I want to see it.”

“And then he says, ‘If Valmond trash catches my eye, I’ll toss it in the moat’?”

“What?”

“That’s what he said when he gave her all that jewelry.”

“Total disaster.”

Hanna couldn’t fathom Clodel’s position either.

Duke Vermonte had accepted Clodel’s plea.

To keep her fatal illness—Herzol—from Hanna’s knowledge.

Hanna only knew Clodel had agreed to the marriage to fund relief for her suffering people after contracting the incurable disease.

So it seemed ridiculous that Clodel fretted over Kaiyan—clearly fond of her—falling for Irena instead.

Madam Marcel’s arrival, sharing her exact sentiments, felt like encountering a noble savior, filling Hanna with delight.

“The lord’s heart is with the lady, after all. If only she knew it.”

Hanna nodded at Madam Marcel’s words.

“Whatever I say, she just denies it. She thinks I only say sweet things because I’ve served her so long.”

“Hee hee. Looks like I’ve got another job. Let’s keep at it until an heir is born to House Temneth.”

Until an heir is born!

Hanna instantly warmed to Madam Marcel.

“And I’ll make you some outfits in my spare time.”

“Wow, thank you!”

Hanna, too, had felt isolated in Rowen Castle since arriving—no friends like she’d had back in Valmond Castle. Madam Marcel’s friendly overture lifted her spirits.

Capital women are supposed to be shrewd hagglers.

Madam Marcel had a refreshingly bold and generous personality.

“Let’s do our best from here on.”

“Sounds good.”

The two women smiled at each other.

The Oberon royal palace grew even more imposing at night.

Irena kept the carriage window wide open the entire ascent to the hilltop palace, gazing at the dazzlingly lit fortress.

Built of white stone with gold-leafed roofs, it was illuminated everywhere, resembling another moon rising against the dark night sky.

It felt like a massive light source had descended to earth, close enough to touch.

“That castle will soon be yours, Irena.”

Duke Vermonte’s voice brimmed with excitement, deeply moved.

“Don’t say that. It’s just dinner tonight.”

A messenger from the palace had arrived the day after their stay in the capital began.

Invitations to the royal ball would be presented in person, along with an invitation to dine with the king.

A king’s schedule was notoriously packed.

Lunch or dinner with the monarch was a family’s ultimate honor.

Many served as regents their whole lives without such an opportunity.

“This is the reward for raising my daughter well. Ha ha ha.”

Duke Vermonte always boasted of Irena as ‘God’s masterpiece,’ and now the king was sending telegrams, invitations, and even palace errand boys for a private dinner—he clearly relished the situation.

“Still, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“You’re the one who shouldn’t hold back. It’s not me rushing. By tomorrow, word will spread through the capital that the king wants to see you.”

Who wouldn’t interpret the unwed king summoning the famed princess of Valmond—fresh from Rowen—as romantic interest?

It was the kind of scandal that would ripple through noble circles with their hidden informants.

“His Majesty has never once broached betrothal talks before. For him to summon you personally is hugely significant.”

“He might feel differently in person. Even the king has preferences.”

Irena’s mind had wavered during her few days in the capital.

Remarriage was expected.

Valmond’s succession remained vacant.

If anything happened to her, the line would end.

Unlike House Temneth, Valmond had no strong collateral branches.

They’d forged diplomatic marriages abroad to maintain their web of alliances—a vital tenet for preserving power.

All but the eldest were wed for the family’s honor and influence.

She’d always accepted that she’d marry for duty, yet Clodel and Kaiyan’s union kept unsettling her.

In the past, she wouldn’t have entertained whether she liked or disliked a king.

She knew noble marriages hinged on conditions and lineage.

And she’d done it once before.

She’d never prioritized feelings.

Now her own heart stirred, making the king’s interest—sight unseen—all the more nagging.

House Vermonte’s name might suffice for the match, but adding her feelings and those of an unknown man to the scales? Unpredictable.

Yet contrary to Irena’s unease, the king who met her beamed with welcoming warmth.

“At last, I finally get to meet you.”