Chapter 43

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: The Débutante Ball (2)
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Count Cesare, the King's envoy, strode into the hall and made his way to the dais near the entrance where Cardinal de Mare was standing. As the King's envoy ascended, Cardinal de Mare hastily stepped aside, yielding the dais. Cesare gazed down upon the guests, all of whom had bowed before him, and unfurled the King's royal edict. The King's message was delivered in his voice.

“Listen, my subjects. Today, Ariadne de Mare, the second daughter of Cardinal de Mare, holds her débutante ball. Ariadne de Mare, a loyal subject of San Carlo, is a young lady of deep faith, a worthy example for all the people of this kingdom, and has previously rendered a great service to the nation. Therefore, to celebrate her coming of age, I send Count Cesare de Como to be her partner and escort at her débutante ball. So it is decreed.”

Everyone in the ballroom treated him with the same reverence they would show the King himself, as if Cesare were the monarch. Savoring the thrill that shot up his spine, he rolled the parchment back up and handed it to a nearby attendant. Only then did he meet Cardinal de Mare’s eyes and offer a greeting.

“A pleasure to see you today, Your Eminence, Cardinal de Mare.”

Cardinal de Mare returned the nod.

“Count Cesare. It is an honor to have you in our humble home.”

“I will take good care of your daughter for the day.”

“Then I must thank His Majesty the King.”

Cesare gave a slight nod, accepting the thanks on the King's behalf. He descended from the dais he had shared with the Cardinal and began to walk toward the far end of the main hall, toward the platform where Ariadne and Prince Alfonso stood. It was like the march of a triumphant general. Cesare reveled in the attention of all, striding through the ballroom as if he were the star of the evening. Only the guests who had seen Prince Alfonso enter moments before were murmuring amongst themselves.

‘…!’

Reaching the platform, Cesare finally noticed Prince Alfonso standing below it. Seeing Alfonso's expression, his posture, his pure white attire, and the way he had been escorting Ariadne, a dangerous smile played on Cesare's lips.

‘What's this? So that's how it is?’

Cesare feigned exaggerated surprise as he greeted the prince.

“Well, well, if it isn't the kingdom's little sun?”

A slight furrow appeared on Alfonso's handsome brow. Cesare taunted Alfonso with a sneer.

“As I am here today as His Majesty the King's representative, I will dispense with the formal greetings, Your Highness.”

It was payback for the humiliation of having to kneel a few days prior.

“His Majesty, King Leo III, the Sun of Etruscan, has declared that I am to be this young lady's débutante partner. You will have to step aside, won't you, Your Highness?”

No one could defy a royal decree. Not even Prince Alfonso, the heir to the throne. Cesare ignored the frozen prince and extended a hand to Ariadne. When Ariadne hesitated to take it, he added one more thing.

“It is the King's solemn command, Lady de Mare.”

As always, Cesare's outstretched hand was covered by his trademark deerskin glove. Ariadne reluctantly offered her left hand to Cesare. It was a small relief that it wouldn't be skin against skin. As she extended her hand, she glanced at Prince Alfonso, gauging his reaction. He looked utterly shocked. Ariadne apologized to him with her eyes.

- “I'm so sorry this happened because of me.”

Noticing that Ariadne's attention was not on him, Cesare kissed her left hand with a grand, exaggerated gesture. It was a deliberate act, meant for Prince Alfonso to see. Alfonso gave a dazed smile and bowed to Ariadne.

“My role for today ends here. I'll see you in a bit, Ariadne.”

- “I'm sorry, Alfonso.”

Ariadne mouthed the words to him. Cesare found the situation so thrilling he could hardly stand it. He had come to the ball today inwardly cursing his mother, Countess Rubina, with all his might. He'd thought his mother had done something utterly pointless, going to King Leo III and sweet-talking him into issuing a royal command. He had only dragged his feet to the Cardinal's ball because she'd forced him, never dreaming that something so amusing would happen here.

‘I should be a good son to my mother for once.’

He revised the image he'd held of the girl before him. He had originally thought her shabby, fierce, and possessed of a terrible fashion sense, but the Ariadne standing before him now, dressed in her finery, was quite beautiful. First, there was her flawless, serene skin. And the features he'd once thought fierce, now accentuated with makeup around her eyes, revealed a surprisingly neat and elegant beauty. The dress she wore today had a low neckline that gracefully emphasized her collarbones and décolletage.

Cesare escorted Ariadne up to the platform as carefully as if handling expensive porcelain. From the dais on the opposite side, Cardinal de Mare was giving a speech to the guests about what an excellent and virtuous lady his second daughter was, how deep her faith, and how gentle her disposition. Ariadne and Cesare stood on the platform like a picturesque couple, the objects of a thousand curious gazes. After the Cardinal's short speech, the guests all offered their congratulations, raising the glasses of fruit wine brought by the servants for a toast before drinking. Ariadne and Cesare also took glasses of fruit wine from a servant's tray on the platform and took a sip. It signified their coming of age. Soon, the orchestra began to play. It was time for the first waltz. Since no one could begin dancing until the débutante and her partner had the first dance, Cesare escorted Ariadne to the center of the ballroom. Taking the starting waltz position, one hand on Ariadne's waist and the other holding hers, he greeted her affectionately.

“It's been a few weeks, Ariadne.”

His most confident, charming smile graced his lips.

“A promise is a promise, so I shall speak to you formally from today.”

It seemed he hadn't forgotten his earlier words about speaking informally because she was just a child. Ariadne, stepping in time to the waltz, did not relax her expression as she retorted.

“Address me as Lady de Mare.”

Such spirit, not falling for a cheap smile. Perfect. Bravo. Until now, he'd had not an ounce of interest in the beautiful Isabella's shabby little sister, but today's events had genuinely piqued his interest in Ariadne. He wanted to take anything and everything that Alfonso possessed. And to think that *it* was a vibrant, beautiful girl—he felt like gouging his own eyes out for not having noticed her until now.

“I shall wait for the day we become closer, Lady de Mare.”

Cesare led the waltz, maintaining the impeccable manners he reserved for women he targeted. Ariadne was not the best dancer, but she moved with practiced skill.

“You dance well for a lady just making her social debut. Did you have many lessons at home?”

I didn't have many lessons at home, but I danced with you. For fourteen years. Over and over again. It was hard to adjust to this new, honey-sweet attitude from Cesare, who in her past life had never seemed particularly keen on dancing with her. To suppress her complicated feelings, whenever a sliver of hope arose, she thought of the Cesare who had asked if she would sell the 'Heart of the Deep Blue Sea'—no, she thought of the Cesare from before her return, the one who had screamed, 'Do you have any idea how humiliated I felt when your father tried to pawn off someone like you on me?' Her heart instantly grew cold, its beat slowing like a late autumn downpour. The look in her eyes and the tone of her voice turned icy.

“I'm not a good dancer. I only know the basics.”

As the waltz reached its climax, Cesare held only Ariadne's left hand, sending her spinning away from him before twirling her back into his arms.

“So this is the 'Heart of the Deep Blue Sea.' The jewel shines, but I must say it cannot compare to your beauty, my lady.”

“Spare me your flattery.”

Despite the cold words that left her lips, the girl's body was very warm. Cesare focused on the warmth of the girl in his arms, a stark contrast to the sharp words falling from her lips. He was confident that, given time, he could melt the heart of any clumsy teenage girl. He didn't know it, but he had already done so perfectly in a past life. For Count Cesare, the most popular man in San Carlo, winning a woman's heart was merely a matter of time.

***

While Count Cesare de Como was showering the guarded Ariadne de Mare with honeyed words, Prince Alfonso stood dazed, his back against a wall in the main hall, staring toward the center. Young ladies whispered and glanced his way, but none dared to approach him. It was a firm rule of the ball that the gentleman must be the one to ask for a dance. With the prince leaning listlessly against the wall, sighing heavily, there wasn't a young lady bold enough to go near him. Except for one. Isabella, dressed like a peacock's cousin in a pure white organza gown imported from the Moor Empire, knew exactly what she had to do the moment she spotted the prince. She glided over to the prince's side and, without a moment's hesitation, pushed a decorative vase of white crape myrtle from the top of a nearby chest of drawers. Seeing the vase about to fall, Alfonso's eyes widened, and he instinctively reached for the porcelain. But in the spot where the vase was about to land, Isabella had thrown herself instead.

- Crash!

The loud crack of the breaking vase drew everyone's immediate attention to Prince Alfonso, who was already being watched by all the young ladies. Prince Alfonso found himself unintentionally holding Isabella. To the bewildered Alfonso, Isabella offered a refreshing smile and a suggestion.

“Let's just say you wanted to ask me for a dance, Your Highness.“

Countless curious eyes turned in his direction.

“Everyone is watching, Your Highness. Quickly.”

Alfonso realized that if he didn't agree, he'd look like a cad who had grabbed a woman without permission, so he reluctantly nodded. He was immediately pulled by Isabella to the center of the main hall. Sweet as sugar, Isabella took Prince Alfonso's hand and placed it on her waist. With no other choice, Alfonso put his arm around Isabella's waist and began to step to the rhythm of the waltz. Outwardly, they were a perfect couple. Isabella in her pure white organza dress and Alfonso, faithfully dressed as a débutante's partner, looked from a distance like a débutante couple. The combination of their dark and light blond hair made them a handsome pair, and at a glance, one might have mistaken them for the stars of the débutante ball. But the chemistry between them was sorely lacking. Throughout the dance, Isabella persistently tried to make conversation with the prince.

“Are you enjoying the ball tonight?”

“It's a splendid ball.”

And the conversation died there.

“You're a very steady and skilled dancer, Your Highness. Who is the social dance instructor at the palace?”

“I was taught by Master Lorebald.”

The prince's answers were clipped and short. But the persistent Isabella did not give up. Following the rhythm of the waltz, she executed a grand turn that ended with her nestled in the prince's arms, then threw out another topic.

“The interior decorations are quite unique and beautiful, aren't they? My sister Ariadne chose them.”

Only then did a light return to the prince's eyes. Isabella's pretty eyes sparkled, thinking the physical contact had finally worked. But the prince's interest lay elsewhere. Alfonso's speech quickened as he replied.

“Your sister Ariadne is quite remarkable. I was deeply impressed by how creative and intelligent she is.”

Prince Alfonso's positive reaction was not due to his physical contact with Isabella. Isabella, who had been about to criticize Ariadne's audacity in omitting the traditional tapestry decorations, had a gut feeling that proceeding down that path would not be well-received by the prince. She had no choice but to go along with his chosen topic and join in praising her sister.

“Ariadne is clever, yes. She studies diligently.”

“What's her favorite subject? Theology, I presume?”

Isabella, who had little interest in her sister beyond a burning sense of rivalry, began to flounder for an answer. Isabella swore it was the first time in her life she'd ever had a conversation with a man about another woman. Good heavens, when had the great Isabella de Mare ever been treated this way by a man her age! She gritted her teeth and began to look anxiously in Ariadne's direction. She had arranged for an incident that would make Ariadne look like damaged goods in the prince's eyes. Once that happened, Prince Alfonso's interest in the newcomer would surely fade. She had definitely set things in motion, so when on earth was it going to happen?