Chapter 40

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Three Men Who Want to be Her Partner
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The prince's letter was more of a short note.

“To the amazing Ariadne. Did you get back okay that day? The palace gardens are full of blooming hydrangeas, and I thought of you. It would be nice if we had a reason to meet at the palace. - A.”

For a message from a prince, it was quite romantic. He had even included the secret nickname they had once agreed upon. But for Ariadne, who was currently facing the prospect of entering the once-in-a-lifetime débutante ball with a repulsive fake cousin, there was no time to read between the lines.

She hastily wrote a reply that got straight to the point.

“Dearest Alfonso. I didn't think I'd be cashing in my favor so soon. I need your help. Will you be my débutante partner? I must be the débutante who enters with the prince. I'll tell you the details later. - Ariadne.”

The response came much faster than expected. Ariadne had sent her reply by messenger late in the afternoon of the day Zanobi arrived, and a royal courier arrived at seven the next morning. A speed that would have been impossible unless someone at the palace had insisted it be sent express first thing in the morning.

“Dearest Ariadne, you don't need to use a favor to have a prince as your débutante partner. Just tell me the date and place. - Alfonso.”

Ariadne stood there for a moment, stunned, after reading Alfonso’s note. The first thing that struck her was the difference between her past life and her present. Back then, she had been treated as if she were already a married woman in the prime of her youth, unable to even have a débutante ball. Now, she was in a position every girl dreamed of: having her own débutante ball, escorted by the prince himself.

*Is this a dream?*

She subtly pinched the back of her hand and felt a definite sting. The second thing that struck her was the unfamiliarity of the prince’s unconditional kindness. Ever since her mother passed away long ago, no one had ever shown her such favor without strings attached. Even the few acquaintances Ariadne had in her past life had only engaged in conditional kindness or exchange with her. They would soothe her feelings or listen to her stories only because she could offer them some benefit, or because she had listened wholeheartedly to their complaints.

As for Cesare and the de Mare family, it was painful to even speak of how much she had given compared to what little she had received. Her love, affection, youth, trust, devotion, effort, and loyalty had all been betrayed and exploited. For Ariadne, who was accustomed only to such relationships, the prince's kindness evoked a little gratitude, a great deal of awkwardness, and a touch of fear.

As Ariadne stood there blankly, Sancha ran over and peeked at the note.

“My lady, what did the prince say?”

Taking the note from Ariadne’s hand, Sancha used her recently acquired reading skills to haltingly sound out the words before letting out a scream.

“Aah! Is it true, my lady?!”

“Shh, shh, be quiet.”

“This is wonderful! That Zanobi fellow… No, let’s knock that young master down a peg!”

***

Though Ariadne’s débutante partner was now set, she and Alfonso decided to keep the arrangement a secret until just before the ball. For Ariadne, officially announcing that Prince Alfonso would be her partner meant she would have to endure weeks of glares from Isabella and Lucrezia at home, which was a headache. Isabella’s would be out of pure jealousy. Lucrezia’s would be that, plus she would torment Ariadne for ruining the chance to slip her own nephew some money for his troubles.

While not codified law, it was customary for a débutante’s partner, if not a relative, to be found through her parents’ connections, effectively making it their decision. If she informed Lucrezia of the change to Alfonso beforehand, Lucrezia might throw a fit and declare, ‘As your mother, I don’t approve.’ If that happened, she risked losing the prince’s escort entirely.

Lucrezia wasn’t a quick-witted person, so Ariadne doubted she could muster a counterargument if the prince himself showed up on the morning of the ball and announced he would be the partner. Ariadne decided to crush Lucrezia’s opposition with a combination of the prince’s authority and the element of surprise.

Besides, Isabella was the type of person who would inevitably do something nasty if she was displeased. It was impossible to guess what kind of mischief she might get up to. The fewer variables, the better.

And then there was Zanobi. For the sake of his pride, it would have been better to tell him in advance, but that boy deserved to suffer a little. The thought of Zanobi’s face, trembling with rage upon being informed only on the morning of the ball that he had been replaced by the prince, cheered her up.

“Don't you dare look down on me, you disgusting creep.”

Keeping the fact that he would be escorting Ariadne as her partner at her débutante ball a secret was a method that suited Alfonso as well. For him, there was a minor issue of scheduling and a major one of diplomacy. In principle, Prince Alfonso’s schedule was his to decide, but until now, his mother, Queen Marguerite, had meddled in every detail. If he asked for permission, there would be no problem, but Alfonso had a feeling that Queen Marguerite and King Leo III would not permit him to be Ariadne’s partner.

“Marriage talks are underway with the princess of Gallico. You must conduct yourself with even more propriety.”

That was what his mother had subtly hinted to him a few days ago.

*I’m just helping a friend in trouble.*

Alfonso was subconsciously deceiving himself, thinking it had nothing to do with grand matters like marriage talks or alliances. He checked his schedule with his secretary.

“Bernardino, do I have anything scheduled for the third Saturday of next month?”

“It is currently open, Your Highness.”

“Keep it that way. Don’t schedule anything. That includes any summons from Her Majesty the Queen or His Majesty the King.”

“Is something the matter?”

The normal course of action would have been to state, ‘I will be attending the débutante ball of the Cardinal’s second daughter, held at the de Mare residence.’ But Alfonso chose silence. He had not yet realized that his own atypical handling of the matter was a reflection of his state of mind.

“I have some personal business to attend to. Keep the entire day free, from morning until late at night.”

***

Zanobi and Prince Alfonso were not the only ones vying for the position of Ariadne’s débutante partner.

“That girl is having her own débutante ball this time?”

“Yes, that is correct, Countess.”

At her lady-in-waiting’s report, Countess Rubina, lounging on a long velvet chaise, held her glass of red wine—the exact color of her eyes—up to the candlelight, admiring its hue.

“And who is her partner said to be?”

“I heard it is a nephew from Lucrezia de Rossi’s side of the family.”

A smile graced Countess Rubina’s lips.

“He must be a nobody. My son is far superior in every way. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

She looked over at Cesare, who was sitting in a corner of his mother’s drawing room.

“I heard she was the one who revealed the Lastera statue was a fake, wasn’t she? The court can’t stop talking about her. And they say she’s highly regarded among the common people?”

“I know what you’re going to say, Mother. Just stop right there.”

Cesare was slumped in the corner of his mother’s drawing room, a sour look on his face. Nothing was going his way. The investigation into the merchant from the Republic of Porto, which he had undertaken with high hopes, had been a complete bust. At first, he suspected that Porto’s Minister of Finance, Benascio del Gato, was using his nephew to smuggle assets out of the country. Benascio del Gato was a powerful figure in the Republic of Porto, often mentioned as a candidate for the next Doge. Confiscating the assets he had smuggled into the Kingdom of Etruscan would have put his political opponents in Cesare’s debt.

Alternatively, after discovering that Benascio del Gato’s nephew had been murdered, he had hoped to indebt the minister to him by catching the killer, but it turned out to be a simple murder over gambling debts. While that brat Alfonso was busy kicking a ball around, Cesare had wanted to display his political prowess and win his father’s favor, but it was all for nothing. A complete waste of effort.

“Cesare, don’t be stubborn. Listen to your mother. To become king, you need to be popular, and having a famous spouse will help with that—”

“I told you to stop right there!”

Cesare snapped.

“I have my own plans, you know!”

*Even if they haven't worked out.*

“She’s not some princess with a claim to the throne! Do you think the crown will just fall into my lap if I marry her? Try to think rationally for once!”

A thick wrinkle formed between Countess Rubina’s brows at her son’s defiance.

“And that little brat has a terrible personality!”

But Countess Rubina was not one to back down.

“It would be strange if a fifteen-year-old girl in her adolescence had a placid personality! Looking at you, whining to me because you can’t even melt one little girl’s heart, doesn’t that just prove your incompetence?”

Annoyance and anger flared in Cesare’s blue eyes.

“Just stop it! You’re telling me to ask to be her débutante partner, aren’t you? I’d rather die!”

And his unspoken thought, which he couldn't bring himself to say to his mother, was: *It’s obvious I’d be rejected even if I asked.*

But a mother knows her son, and Countess Rubina saw through him as if she could read his mind.

“Look at you, too scared to even try. You’re the very picture of a loser.”

“Ugh, seriously!”

Stung by Countess Rubina’s taunt, Cesare grabbed the cloak he had tossed onto a chair and stormed out of his mother’s drawing room.

*Slam!*

“That boy, that boy! What a wretched temper!”

Countess Rubina fumed as she watched her son’s retreating back, a mirror image of herself.

“He never listens to a word I say! Does he really think that’s going to stop me from doing as I please?”

In her anger, her hand, which had been swirling the wineglass, grew rough, and red wine splashed over the rim onto the velvet chaise. Countess Rubina’s lady-in-waiting quickly approached, politely wiped up the spill, and at her mistress’s glance, poured another glass.

“Do you have a plan, Countess?”

At her lady-in-waiting’s question, Countess Rubina’s reddish-brown eyes glinted menacingly.

“Of course I do. In all my life, I have never once failed to get what I’ve set my mind on.”

***

While the villain of the royal palace schemed to ride on the coattails of Ariadne’s glory, the villain of the Cardinal de Mare’s residence was plotting in a more straightforward manner to diminish it.

“Is it true she’s having her dress made at Ragione?”

“Yes, I heard that Madam Marini from the Ragione dressmaker’s shop paid a visit.”

“Where does she get such confidence?”

Beauty was cultivated with money. The more one spent, the more elegant one appeared. In Isabella’s opinion, it was utterly incomprehensible that a girl who wasn’t even that pretty would have her débutante dress made at a mere dressmaker’s shop instead of a proper couturier.

“You will be the most beautiful of all, my lady.”

Isabella’s own dress, currently being prepared at the Collezioni couturier, was being made from organza, a fabric from the Moorish Empire imported through Porto merchants. Thin, lustrous, and ethereal, organza was a type of silk that could not yet be produced in Etruscan, where the sericulture industry was still undeveloped.

“I think so too.”

Though she said the words, Isabella chewed nervously on her fingernails. Something felt unsettling.

“Isn’t there a way to make sure I stand out more?”

At her lady’s request, Maletta proposed a simple, crude, yet effective method.

“Shall we spill some wine on her dress on the day of the ball?”

Isabella shot her a look of irritation at her maid’s utter lack of subtlety.

“Then it would be too obvious who did it! And it would just make her look pitiful!”

After scolding Maletta, Isabella was struck by a good idea and asked her a question.

“By the way, you said you thought Ariadne also uses a ‘breast pouch,’ didn’t you?”

“I’m certain of it, my lady. I saw that girl Sancha taking muslin cloths out to wash regularly. What else would she use muslin for if not for a ‘breast pouch’?”

Isabella often used a ‘breast pouch’ specially procured from the Moorish Kingdom, along with muslin cloths, to enhance her own lacking bust. It was her greatest insecurity.

“It would be a real spectacle if her ‘breast pouch’ slipped down at the ball, wouldn’t it?”

Isabella’s amethyst eyes narrowed. Maletta played along.

“The cotton wadding would spill out, wouldn’t it! It would be so obvious and hideous! Besides, a rumor would spread through society that she wears such a vulgar item as a ‘breast pouch,’ right? She’d never be able to show her face again!”

In the society of San Carlo, a noble lady was praised for her beauty, but only if it was natural. Excessively heavy makeup or artificial enhancements were frowned upon and invited whispers of being like the courtesans of Carampane. It would, of course, be a fatal blow to the reputation of a chaste noble young lady. The ‘breast pouch’ was not widely known among the other ladies of San Carlo and was only secretly imported from the Moorish Empire. Naturally, if its use were to be revealed, the scandal would be immense.

For Isabella, who was wary of her half-sister’s ever-growing fame in society before she had even made her début, this seemed like the perfect solution.

Isabella’s narrowed eyes gleamed with malice.