Chapter 18

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 18

Chapter Title: War of the Roses

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The atmosphere at the ball had ripened into full swing.

Before long, Olivia and Elaine found themselves surrounded by gentlemen clutching champagne flutes.

Elaine conversed leisurely with them, bursting into occasional laughter, while Olivia simply listened attentively to their stories, offering a smile now and then.

Just as the polite gentlemen were about to openly reveal their curiosity about Duke Johann Leopold's former wife, the background music shifted to a waltz.

Elaine stepped out to dance with one of the men she'd been chatting with.

"Care for a dance?"

"I shouldn't have worn these new shoes."

Olivia turned down the flood of dance invitations with the excuse that her feet hurt. Left standing awkwardly alone, she scanned her surroundings before turning toward the cocktail table.

Sitting at the bar and waiting for Elaine seemed less awkward, at least.

As Olivia passed by the brightly lit sculptures and drew near the base of a magnificent tree, a group of women closed in around her.

"Do you come to these parties often? You don't look familiar."

A woman with striking red hair spoke up. Her manner was sociable, but her eyes held no warmth. Among the women standing a step behind her were a few faces Olivia recognized.

"This is my first time."

Olivia smiled softly, searching her memory. She didn't know the woman.

"I thought so. Otherwise, you wouldn't be wearing that necklace."

Olivia's hand unconsciously touched the necklace at the cryptic remark.

"Why do you say that? Before anything else, may I ask who you are?"

Good heavens. How rude could she be? someone muttered with a click of the tongue.

"Mind your manners. This is Princess Annblin of Britt."

Why would Britt's princess...

Olivia's face briefly showed confusion before she offered her greeting.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness."

"Delighted to meet you too. I've only heard rumors until now—this is our first encounter in person. Miss Blanchett."

The princess's benevolent smile met Olivia's gaze before drifting back to the necklace.

"I wore it here last year. I never imagined I'd see it again so soon."

"Ah!"

Only then did Olivia understand the accusatory stares directed her way and why a princess from another kingdom had taken an interest in her.

"Is it against etiquette, by any chance?"

Olivia asked politely.

"It's an unspoken agreement. A matter of respect for others, like an unwritten rule."

The implication was clear: Olivia had disrespected a princess of the realm. The princess's eyes were firm and cold.

The world of nobility was a finicky one. Olivia didn't fully grasp this particular form of courtesy, but she decided to accept their customs.

"I had no idea. If I've offended you, I apologize."

From the moment Olivia had appeared, the ladies who recognized the necklace—and even their partners—had gathered. Onlookers were steadily multiplying.

"No need to apologize, Miss Blanchett. In a world where money buys anything you desire, after all."

The princess continued with utmost elegance and poise.

"But wearing the same necklace doesn't make us equals."

The princess drew a firm line between her noble self and the illegitimate child's lowly birth.

Princess Annblin had attended the Lancelot Hotel's Rose Ball every year. This held true both before her marriage—when she was forced into it despite loving Edgar—and after.

The red dress she chose for her first attendance became her signature color, and thereafter, red was worn exclusively by Princess Annblin.

Last year, when she donned the Anne Juber collection, Edgar—who kissed the back of her hand—praised her for the first time since their reunion.

'It suits you.'

Ahead of the ball, Annblin had agonized over her attire and summoned Madam Lauren.

'I'll wear Juber again this year.'

She planned to make the legendary Anne Juber jewels her signature, alongside red.

'I'm afraid that's not possible, Your Highness. It's already reserved.'

'Even if I say I want it?'

'My apologies, Your Highness.'

'Who is it?'

After a long pause, Madam Lauren uttered an unexpected name.

Edgar Langcaster Lancelot.

He was the last person Annblin would have imagined.

In that moment, she was certain.

It's for me.

It couldn't be anyone else. He had no official lover, nor was he the type to gift jewels to scandal partners.

Annblin wore a simple red dress that would highlight the necklace Edgar would place around her neck, adorned only with a tiara of small pearls and nothing else. Yet...

Edgar had betrayed her. Her puffy under-eye twitched in spasm.

"Did your new lover put that necklace on you?"

The woman was beautiful. So much so that the flashy ornament around her neck faded from notice. That made it all the harder to bear.

"...Pardon?"

Olivia was bewildered.

"It's a jewel that's notoriously hard to rent. Who is it? This remarkable lover of yours."

The onlookers began to murmur.

The princess clearly wanted to humiliate her, Olivia thought. Facing that intent head-on, she responded calmly.

"I don't have a lover yet, Your Highness. I was actually looking forward to finding one at tonight's ball, but no such luck so far."

The princess's brows furrowed, but Olivia paid it no mind.

"The necklace was Madam Lauren's choice. My maid recommended the designer, and I simply respected her philosophy."

Olivia met the princess's gaze steadily, offering a radiant smile.

Carol and the other Rondos noblewomen looked stunned.

The Olivia Blanchett who once shrank before blatant malice was gone. The pitiful illegitimate child who fled into the shadows to stifle her tears no longer existed.

What on earth had happened to change her so completely?

A waltz resumed playing, but no one moved to leave.

Those who knew Olivia's past merely blinked in surprise, gauging the winner of this necklace-sparked battle of wills.

On this May night, amid the dizzying scent of blooming roses, the ball veered in an unexpected direction, heating up further.

A crack splintered the composure in Annblin's eyes.

Liar.

Madam Lauren wouldn't lie, so Olivia Blanchett must be the one lying.

And that smile was undoubtedly mocking her.

Annblin found the situation utterly humiliating.

Fury made her fingers curl into fists. Veins bulged on the back of her clenched hand as the gathering crowd buzzed once more, eyes turning to the tall man approaching leisurely.

The man, whose black tailcoat suited him with elegant grace, was Edgar Langcaster Lancelot.

For a fleeting moment, his captivating entrance made Olivia slip from Annblin's mind. She called his name with an unwitting smile.

"Ed."

Edgar had been greeting the ball's distinguished guests.

The rumor of Britt's princess clashing with Rondos' former Duchess of Leopold had spread on the wind, reaching the gazebo where he stood.

Edgar frowned slightly but couldn't ignore it. He headed there.

He strode slowly toward Annblin, who gazed at him with anticipation even amid the tension.

A chuckle escaped him at the sight of the princess, who still exuded eager expectation upon spotting him.

They had once been lovers, but their relationship ended with her marriage. It irked Edgar that she acted as if it had restarted with her divorce.

"It's an honor to have you grace us, Your Highness."

Edgar bowed deeply with impeccable courtesy before glancing at Olivia Blanchett. Anyone with sense would slip away quietly by now.

Under the vibrant lights of the rose garden's stained-glass lanterns, all eyes now focused on Edgar and Princess Annblin.

The violin melody carried on the cooling breeze struck Annblin as romantic. It was all Edgar's magic.

Annblin extended her trembling hand, steadying her heart as best she could.

Edgar kissed the back of it out of ingrained habit. As he straightened, his gaze swept the spot where Olivia had stood. Only shadows remained in the empty space.

Edgar smiled, and the princess mistook it for affection directed at her.

Olivia had retreated deep into a secluded area and sat on a bench, catching her breath.

The domed white marble pergola bore no hanging glass lanterns, but the streetlamps spaced at regular intervals lit the surroundings brightly.

As tension ebbed, pain throbbed in her heels from forcing the ill-fitting shoes. Olivia kicked them off and winced.

Blood seeped slightly from the raw skin on her heels. She pulled a handkerchief from her clutch, pressed it to the wound, and looked up.

The ball's brilliant lights shimmered in view. She couldn't return there now—not while wearing this necklace.

She should at least let Miss Elaine know she was leaving, but Elaine was nowhere in sight.

Overwhelming fatigue washed over her. Olivia let out a short sigh, removed the handkerchief from her now-dry heel, drew her knees up, hugged them with both arms, and buried her face.

A cool night breeze rustled her chiffon sleeves against her skin. She rubbed her slender arms.

Madam Lauren.

Olivia mulled the name over silently. Last year's client had been Britt Kingdom's princess. The necklace couldn't have been a mistake. How could such an error happen? It made no sense.

Yet Madam Lauren had no reason to do this to her. She could have simply ignored a request from a lowly illegitimate child.

She ought to be angry, but instead, a bitterness lingered.

The distant music and laughter felt like echoes from another world.

She wanted to return to her room and sink into the soft bed. If she closed her eyes and slept, this night would pass. That's when measured footsteps echoed on the paved walkway.

Olivia jolted upright in alarm.

The man ascending the steps at an unhurried pace was none other than Edgar Langcaster Lancelot.