Chapter 186

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 186
Chapter Title: Greed
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The young ladies in the ballroom all turned to stare at Isabella in astonishment. It was obvious to everyone that she was walking toward Duke Cesare.

Even in the most generous interpretation, Isabella was heading for the dance floor without a partner, a place one was meant to enter with a partner.

In the high society of San Carlo, a lady could not ask a gentleman for a dance first.

It was also a great discourtesy for someone of lower status to speak first to someone of higher status.

Isabella de Mare couldn't possibly be ignorant of social etiquette, so what on earth was she thinking?

With a smile as bright as a blooming flower, Isabella gracefully walked toward the center of the ballroom where Duke Cesare stood.

Cesare, too, noticed the approach of Isabella, who was elegantly dressed in a teal gown.

It was impossible not to. With Lucrezia's keepsake—a golden necklace interwoven with teal topaz like a net—adorning her neck and her beautiful flaxen hair braided high, Isabella was sculpturally perfect.

One would believe her to be an ornamental sculpture from some lavish palace court.

Duke Cesare and Isabella de Mare’s eyes met. She smiled as charmingly as if fruit were bursting with juice.

At that moment, a pretty, white linen handkerchief slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.

A smile crept onto Duke Cesare’s lips as well. But it was a smile of a slightly different sort than Isabella’s.

‘Such a classic move.’

It was an act one could never perform without being utterly confident in oneself. The self-assurance of a spoiled young lady who had known nothing but love radiated from her.

Cesare felt a cruel impulse to crush that innocent girl's pride under the tip of his boot.

And to do it in front of everyone. Would the maiden, like a budding rose, cry if she were ruthlessly rejected in public? Or would she display her anger? The corners of his mouth curled up on their own.

‘But I am a gentleman.’

A man who would ignore a lady who went to such lengths would be no man at all.

Cesare slowly bent down and picked up the linen handkerchief.

Sporadic gasps of awe erupted from the guests seated at the tables.

“I believe you dropped this.”

At the Duke of Pisano’s first words, an undisguised joy and pride lit up Isabella’s face.

Her thoughts were transparent, but what was cute was cute.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Her voice was as sweet as a warbler’s song.

Isabella fixed her violet eyes intensely on Cesare’s sea-blue ones, adding with a charming smile.

“Congratulations on becoming the Duke of Pisano.”

“Thank you.”

He answered curtly, not giving her the reaction she desired.

It wasn't her style to be anxious. Isabella decided to just ask boldly.

“Aren’t you going to ask me for the first dance? Everyone is watching.”

At her words, Cesare tilted his head.

“Lady de Mare.”

“Yes?”

Isabella’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“I believe I have saved your face as much as I possibly could.”

People were still watching them, but the sound of their conversation was drowned out by the orchestra’s melody.

Thanks to this, Isabella could raise her voice in indignation.

“What did you say?”

“Picking up your handkerchief should be enough. What more do you expect?”

Cesare’s retort was so blunt that even the thick-skinned Isabella flushed red.

“Your Grace!”

Isabella’s outburst began to annoy Cesare slightly. He would only indulge her cute antics once.

Just then, a young lady in a rose-colored dress sitting far away came into his view.

If Isabella before him was a dew-kissed bud about to bloom, the young lady in the red dress, despite her young age, had something that captivated the eye, like a queen of fully blossomed roses.

A grin once again formed on Cesare’s lips. An idea that would kill two birds with one stone had occurred to him.

He extended his right hand to Isabella.

Thinking he was asking for a dance, she beamed and placed her left hand on his right.

“Ah, a misunderstanding.”

Instead of taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor, he lifted her offered left hand and pressed his lips to its back. The right hand was the one offered for a hand-kiss.

Leaving a bewildered Isabella, who had just had the wrong hand kissed, Cesare continued smoothly.

“It was an honor to speak with you, Lady Isabella de Mare.”

Realizing her fate, Isabella’s face turned scarlet with shame.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The Duke of Pisano leisurely walked away from Isabella’s side.

* * *

Isabella turned scarlet with shame and then pale with fury. It was a massive failure in maintaining her composure. She bit her lip in defeat.

It felt as if everyone was staring only at her. And this wasn't just Isabella’s feeling; it was an objective fact.

“Did she just get rejected?”

“Heavens, if that were me, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.”

“Isabella de Mare, I thought she’d learned her lesson, but she’s still the same.”

“A leopard can’t change its spots.”

Isabella wanted to die. To make matters worse, among the people whispering and watching her from afar were Count and Countess Balzo.

From a distance, she could vaguely see Countess Balzo frowning and whispering something into her husband’s ear.

Was it a relief that Baroness Loredan couldn't attend due to her status?

In Isabella’s devastated line of sight, Cesare’s back appeared as he walked away nonchalantly.

He retraced the exact path Isabella had taken to approach him. The place he arrived at was the table where she had originally been seated.

At that table, where one seat was now empty, sat her half-sister in a deep rose-colored dress. Cesare extended his right hand before her.

“My lady, would you grant me the honor of the first dance?”

Isabella snapped, crushing the ribs of the fan in her hand.

* * *

Ariadne de Mare looked up at the owner of the hand. Her green eyes were cold and still.

“It is an honor to be asked for the first dance. However, I’m not feeling very well.”

The man, newly reborn as Cesare de Carlo, Duke of Pisano, felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him.

At a moment when he felt he had the world in his hands, he was met with an entirely unexpected rejection. He raised his eyebrows and asked.

“What ails you, signora?”

Ariadne answered calmly, but without hesitation.

“I’m a bit dizzy.”

It was true, after all.

But Cesare did not hide his skeptical gaze.

“My débutante lady. I was with you for your first dance, too.”

Ariadne, about to retort, swallowed her words. It was true that her first dance had been with Cesare.

In this life, and in the last. It had never been otherwise. Her first dance in society was always with Cesare.

“Even if you’re a bit dizzy, won’t you trust me and let me lead? I can manage to support one such as you, even if you do nothing at all.”

Just as Ariadne was about to reply, the orchestra finished its opening piece and began to play the first dance number.

Da, da-da, da-da!

Cesare didn’t wait for Ariadne’s answer. He took her hand and pulled her into his arms.

Ariadne was swept into Cesare’s embrace just as the last note of the first measure sounded firmly.

He whispered in her ear, now close to his.

“Just trust me and follow.”

The world’s most untrustworthy man whispering “just trust me.”

With their first movement, the other couples waiting around the dance floor swarmed in and began to waltz.

Ariadne had no choice but to follow Cesare’s steps.

“You said you were dizzy, but you’re doing well, aren’t you?”

“I’m good at everything.”

Ariadne answered sharply. It was a self-defensive reply. The moment the words left her mouth, she was filled with self-loathing.

Good at everything? What a joke. She had ruined Alfonso’s claim to the throne. She needed to keep Cesare in the position of an illegitimate son to have any sort of advantage.

The Cesare of her past life had not been acknowledged by the king and was merely a margrave who held the Pisan territory.

Now, he not only had a legitimate claim to succession but was also the Duke of Pisano.

‘If his title were just a little higher, he would have been a grand duke of the north.’

She tried to make a pointless joke to lift her spirits, but it wasn't much of a comfort.

“Yes, you are good at everything. I know.”

It was Cesare who uttered the unexpected words. Cesare was never the type of man to acknowledge his woman.

Ariadne spun in a wide turn and drew close to him again, her face wrinkled in suspicion.

“That doesn’t sound like you, Your Grace.”

The Cesare de Como of her past life had reaped all the benefits of Ariadne’s wits, yet had stubbornly insisted things like, “Your military knowledge is insignificant,” or “What do you know to be meddling?”

Some parts of Cesare were the same, and some seemed different.

As always, he responded to Ariadne’s attack not with a defense, but with a counterattack.

“My débutante lady still doesn’t keep her promises.”

“What promise?”

*I never made any promises to that man.* Ariadne furrowed her brow. The Duke seemed to like her scrunched-up face, as he chuckled softly.

“My name. We were supposed to use names.”

“Ah.”

Ariadne shook her head.

“You’re still obsessed with that.”

“Obsessed? I merely wish to receive what is mine.”

He took a step far away, then returned close to whisper again.

“I’m quite obsessive about getting what is rightfully mine.”

He had just barely returned alive from the clutches of Leo III. Cesare was looking forward to his upcoming trip to survey the Pisan territory more than anything.

Finally, he would leave his father’s grasp and have something of ‘his own.’

Unlike the Como territory, which only collected taxes for the king, the Duchy of Pisano was a true autonomous region that could have its own army.

“You try to take all the good things for yourself while only causing trouble for me.”

Ariadne replied coldly. Cesare feigned a startled expression.

“Me? Caused you trouble?”

Had they not been dancing, he looked as if he would have waved his hands in denial. Ariadne thought that today’s Cesare seemed to be in a very good mood.

It was the feeling he gave off when he was being sociable, using up a great deal of energy.

She had seen this side of him many times, but she had rarely been the target of his charms. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“There’s no way I would have caused you trouble! I wouldn’t do such a thing even with a knife to my throat.”

At Cesare’s denial, Ariadne gestured with her chin toward the far end of the floor.

In that direction, a beautiful blonde lady in a teal dress stood leaning against the wall, her expression cursing every living thing in the world.

“Because of you, I’m in big trouble when I get home. I won’t even be able to sit comfortably at the breakfast table tomorrow.”

Confirming Isabella at the end of Ariadne’s gaze, Cesare grinned.

The smile was so vexingly refreshing that Ariadne glared at Cesare’s profile.

“A pipsqueak like that. You have the ability to handle her yourself. What are you afraid of?”

He stepped, gazing intently at her face.

“My débutante lady has a surprisingly timid side to her. You don’t look the type.”

Ariadne shook her head. She spoke her mind honestly.

“Irresponsible man.”

“Do you want me to take responsibility?”

Duke Cesare’s face lit up. He added cheerfully.

“I’ve already had one proposal rejected. Are you allowing me a second try?”

Ariadne clicked her tongue inwardly. *He’s certainly thrilled about getting a duchy, isn’t he?*

Fortunately, the music was almost over. Only the final turn remained.

Ariadne took a large step to spin out wide, then assumed the final pose, pressed close to Duke Cesare.

As she voluntarily drew near, she could feel Cesare flinch, tense. After all his games, now he was feigning the part of a chaste gentleman.

She whispered in his ear.

“Congratulations on your dukedom. But you’ll have to find your duchess elsewhere.”