Chapter 21

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 21

Chapter Title: Assault

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“I heard from Madam Lauren. That necklace……”

Annblin’s voice trembled as much as her amber eyes.

She hesitated, struggling to get the words out, when a knock sounded and the secretary brought in tea. Silence settled between them for a moment. No sooner had the secretary finished her task and withdrawn than Annblin asked.

“What’s your relationship with that woman?”

“A merchant’s lifeblood is credit. Looks like I misjudged you.”

“Why is Anne Juber with that woman? You lent it to her, didn’t you?”

Her trembling voice began to choke with sobs.

“Is this your way of punishing me? Making me a laughingstock with that lowly bastard child?”

To preserve her last shred of pride, the princess bit her lip instead of letting tears fall.

Edgar watched with utter composure, as if savoring a ridiculous play. It was a shame he was the sole audience for this drama he’d been enduring for three full years.

No one could match this woman’s performance as the victim when she herself was the perpetrator. Edgar would stake his entire fortune on it. Pity there were no takers.

Edgar smirked, then swiftly erased the smile from his lips.

“You’re the one who talked about breaking up.”

His chilling gaze fixed on Annblin, draining all color from the princess’s face.

“I have no obligation to report my private life to the princess.”

Edgar slowly lowered his eyes, then raised them again. The coldness faded, replaced by a faint smile. He’d explained it plainly enough for her to grasp.

“Right? Ann.”

At the affectionate nickname, a tear rolled from Annblin’s eye.

“……I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ed.”

Her intermittent sniffles soon turned to full sobs.

“Forgive me……. Please!”

The play’s final line—begging for forgiveness—couldn’t have been more tedious.

No creativity whatsoever. No shame either.

Edgar rose to his feet.

“Then, take care.”

He offered the princess of a nation the most impeccable bow imaginable, then left the office without a backward glance. His mind was wholly fixed on the train to Mount No.

Was Olivia Blanchett aboard? That was his sole concern.

It was vile weather.

Even Litton’s landmark clock tower, visible from anywhere at a glance, was lost in the thick fog.

Any hope of leisurely admiring what might be her final views of Litton’s beauty had been shelved long ago.

All they could do now was pray the carriage reached the station without further delay. It had slowed to a crawl, inching along like it was on black ice.

“Can we make it?”

Anne gazed at Olivia with worried eyes.

Olivia drew her pocket watch from her bag and checked the time. It was a parting gift from Elaine.

12:15.

Tight, but if the carriage picked up now, they had time enough.

“If we miss it, we take the next one. Or go tomorrow.”

Olivia spoke calmly, her fingers tracing the vine motif on the closed watch’s lid.

‘Beware of Edgar. That man.’

Olivia had asked what she meant. It was over dinner the evening before, a farewell meal with Elaine.

‘He’s the princess’s man. You said you’re staying here. Nothing good comes from tangling with him.’

Elaine had apologized for not warning her about the necklace beforehand.

She explained Madam Lauren had blocked her attempt to speak up—and begged Olivia to watch out for that woman too. Racking her memory, Olivia recalled the exchange clearly now.

Edgar Langcaster Lancelot and Madam Lauren. Come to think of it, she was the designer Mrs. Marie had recommended.

And that maid……

As one question spawned another, the coachman flung open the window and shouted.

“Accident up ahead, looks like. We’re stuck for a good hour at least!”

After a moment’s thought, Olivia and Anne paid the fare and walked the rest of the way to Litton Station. They arrived five minutes early, but bad weather had delayed every train.

Delays packed Litton Central Station with people.

Olivia and Anne bought tickets for the 1 PM Mount No train and sat on a bench in the waiting room to wait.

Tensing under furtive stares, Olivia tugged her bonnet brim low to shield her face.

The newsstand racks and newspapers in people’s hands were plastered with those lurid photos.

“Bird of a feather, that fox’s daughter.”

“Not content unless it’s a duke. Always reeling in dukes.”

Olivia sighed softly. At least her face wasn’t exposed—a small mercy.

Let’s go outside, Anne.

Yes, miss.

Exchanging a glance, Olivia and Anne slipped away quietly.

The platform air hung heavy and damp. Even in broad daylight, the fog-wreathed streetlamps glowed murky.

Crowds dotted the platform, waiting. Impatient curses drifted from here and there.

The scandal scorching high society was mere seat cushion fodder out here. Olivia counted that a blessing.

She and Anne set their trunks beneath a dim corner streetlamp and perched atop them to wait. Some two hours later, a distant whistle pierced the air.

The crowd buzzed and shifted.

The Mount No train pulled into the platform just shy of 5 PM.

The locomotive slowed as it bored through the gray city, grinding to a halt.

Passengers surged toward it like a tide. In the crush, Olivia and Anne scanned their tickets for the car number.

“Here. Over here, Anne!”

Olivia waved her raised hand, calling down to Anne below.

She checked the ticket and compartment number once more, then slid open the carriage door.

As she grasped Anne’s outstretched arm to board, a dark shadow loomed over her head. At the same instant, a stranger’s voice growled from behind.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Her foot hovering on the step, Olivia turned slowly.

Beneath the black silk top hat, bushy white eyebrows twitched. The old gentleman’s sunken, shadowed eyes brimmed with fathomless fury.

“You ungrateful wretch!”

A thunderclap roar erupted from the frail frame.

Olivia, arm seized and dragged to Lancelot Hotel, reeled in confusion at the unforeseen predicament.

“You dare. Without an ounce of gratitude.”

A sinewy hand lashed toward Olivia’s face. She threw up her arm on instinct, but the blow’s force overwhelmed her. The slap rang out sharply. Through ringing ears, the old man’s bellow echoed.

‘How dare you, here of all places…….’

The faint voice felt younger somehow. It dated back to when she was six—her first meeting with blood kin at the Blanchett Earldom.

Recalling her maternal grandfather, the Earl of Blanchett, Olivia grew dizzy.

How did he find this place…….

The answer was all too banal: the Rose Ball scandal.

“You dare divorce the duke without a word!”

The old man’s gnarled hand rose again. Anne, frozen in panic, lunged forward and took the hit instead—stumbling into a table and toppling it.

A newspaper fluttered down, splaying its shameful scene.

“You vulgar slut!”

Breathing in harsh rasps, the Earl of Blanchett struck his granddaughter’s cheek without mercy.

“No good traits at all—even this, from your mother!”

Still unsatisfied, the Earl hoisted his cane.

Elena Blanchett.

The lily of Rondos, society’s flower and the Blanchett pride.

She was beauty incarnate, endlessly lovable—no one was immune.

Elena’s smile lit happiness in all around her; wherever she appeared, shadows fled before radiant light.

All foresaw her as crown princess consort. As inevitable as spring yielding to summer, autumn to winter.

Until she fell for her pledged friend’s husband. Only then did her perfect world shatter.

“What humiliation did I endure from that blood clot? Who brought our house to ruin? And you throw away that position?”

The Earl could never forget that day.

Johann Leopold.

That green pup owed his dukedom to him, in truth.

Gratitude should have had him groveling—yet those bug-eyed looks of contempt.

He hadn’t anticipated warmth post-divorce, but this depth of humiliation? Unforeseen.

‘The price for peddling your daughter? Recouped in spades already.’

‘My dear son-in-law.’

‘Earl. Mind your titles.’

The memory of his audience with Johann fueled the Earl’s rage; he swung his cane down hard.

“N-no! ……Please don’t. Master!”

Shaking with terror, Anne threw herself in front of Olivia once more. Meeting Anne’s gaze—lips split and bleeding—Olivia snapped awake.

“Stop! ……Please leave.”

Olivia’s voice came cold and steady.

The tip of the cane trembled in the Earl’s grip.

“I’m an adult now. I’ll handle my own affairs.”

Her unwavering eyes bored into his as she spoke firmly, word by word.

“The grace of raising me? The Earl’s already tallied it in the funds drawn from the ducal house all these years.”

“Insolent chit. You think housing a family disgrace like you—and salvaging Blanchett’s fallen honor—costs a pittance like that?”

The Earl of Blanchett scoffed.

The fog beyond the window had deepened to inky black. With no lamps lit, his voice echoed sinisterly through the dim room.

“Far from enough.”

“I know you’ve had your fill of aid. And those repeated business flops? Uncle’s fault—”

Olivia’s head whipped back. Darkness exploded across her vision.