Chapter 39

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 39

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter 39

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Of course, any noble young lady might live with that level of extravagance.

But fulfilling that quantity in a single day was a different matter altogether.

Especially if it involved one-on-one consultations with experts who were obsessed with crafting outfits tailored perfectly to her.

Up until she heard that someone had arrived from Penelope's Atelier that morning, Iona had assumed Ivonne had finally gotten her wish.

Ivonne had been nagging Hayden to buy her a dress from there, so Iona figured he'd given in to his daughter once again.

But the attendant looked a bit awkward as she gazed at Ivonne, who had come rushing out, and then announced that she had come on Duke Leroy's orders.

"The Duke was so pleased with the previous purchase that he requested our Penelope's Atelier to make more dresses for Lady Iona."

So that was the atelier that had produced such remarkable results just from borrowing a pattern. It was certainly worthy of its reputation.

Penelope's Atelier, which had opened in the capital five years ago, was a popular shop that had never once lost its top sales spot.

Thanks to its chief designer, who had studied abroad and was up-to-date on all the latest trends, everyone was dying to buy their clothes.

Among the young ladies, the number of outfits custom-made at Penelope's Atelier had become a point of pride, and for those who couldn't afford it, even owning just one was the dream dress.

Even after becoming the Duchess, I'd only occasionally had clothes made there.

Of course, only for appearances' sake, maybe once or twice a year at most.

The thought of having to discuss the fabric type and color, the dress style and decorations, over and over—twenty times, even—suddenly made her stomach churn.

Iona abruptly stood from her seat.

"...I'll be right back from the restroom."

Fortunately, the attendant let her go without protest.

She must have looked quite pale.

Iona slipped out the back door of the mansion with Marsha, who had followed close behind.

The area behind the building leading to the rear garden was quiet. With no one passing by, it seemed perfect for a conversation no one else should overhear.

The moment Marsha closed the door, Iona asked outright,

"Was my wardrobe really that pathetic?"

"Has the young lady finally gained some objectivity about herself?"

Marsha asked, her eyes sparkling.

Iona fell silent, having gained nothing from the exchange.

Marsha had always nagged her about the state of her clothes and when she planned to hire more help.

She'd side with the Duke before ever cheering on her lady's frugality.

But even Marsha seemed puzzled by the sudden barrage of gifts, as she asked with an expectant look,

"Or did something happen between the two of you yesterday?"

"Nothing like that."

Iona answered firmly.

Of course, there had been some progress in their relationship.

But promising fidelity after marriage was just a natural vow—it hardly justified sending dresses as a gift.

Besides, Iona hadn't even properly shown off the dress he'd given her yesterday. Embarrassed about claiming she couldn't dance, she'd been too ashamed to stay long in the ballroom and had hurried home.

Iona didn't want to confess such a foolish story, so she quickly changed the subject.

"More importantly, any letters from Cornelia?"

"Of course. Actually, quite a few."

With that, Marsha pulled a thick bundle of letters from her front pocket.

Cornelia collected Iona's invitations every morning and passed them to Marsha.

Thanks to that, Iona never missed any amid Ivonne's schemes.

Iona quickly skimmed the backs of the envelopes first.

A few familiar names caught her eye.

Perhaps afraid she'd back out if they delayed, the people she'd met at Count Ritter's estate had rushed to send invitations.

There it is.

Finding the name she wanted, Iona tore open the envelope without hesitation.

The contents were concise: a few polite lines about being delighted to invite such a distinguished guest, along with the meeting place and date.

Noticing the sender's name from afar, Marsha asked curiously,

"Josephine Allusi—isn't she Nils's friend? Why would she invite you?"

"I asked her to. I need to pick something up there."

"Pick something up...? Isn't that a gambling den?"

"Exactly why there must be something traded besides money."

Iona replied nonchalantly and handed the letter back to Marsha.

She'd have to reply from her room anyway, and that could wait until the guest in the drawing room left.

Marsha tucked the invitations into her pocket and subtly urged Iona,

"Shall we head back in, then?"

"I'm not mentally prepared yet."

"But if we dawdle, they'll think there's something wrong with your stomach."

Iona swallowed a sigh and stood.

Better to get it over with quickly if it had to be done.

Iona silently stepped through the door Marsha held open.

The drawing room where the attendant waited wasn't far from the back door.

Thanks to that, as soon as Iona entered, she witnessed Ivonne storming out, slamming the drawing room door behind her.

Marsha whispered in Iona's ear,

"Looks like her order got rejected."

And sure enough, the moment Ivonne spotted Iona, her face twisted in fury.

Ivonne strode toward Iona and said,

"You showed up at the perfect time. Go tell that woman to make a dress for me too."

Iona asked incredulously at the brazen demand,

"Why?"

"Why? She said the Duke summoned her, right? Can't you sneak my order in? He won't even check anyway."

Lately, Ivonne had been avoiding going out while begging Hayden for clothes from Penelope's Atelier.

She'd claimed her outdated dresses were too embarrassing and had even locked herself in her room.

Thanks to that, Iona had been able to attend gatherings freely.

I thought the issue was resolved since she went out with Hayden yesterday, but apparently not.

Whatever the case, Iona's response was set.

Twisting her lips, Iona said,

"No thanks."

At Iona's refusal, Ivonne let out an exaggerated scoff.

"You're really getting bold lately, huh? Think the world is yours just because you're marrying the Duke?"

Sneering, Ivonne crossed her arms smugly.

"But what can we do? A few words from me to the Duke, and this marriage falls apart."

"I'd love to hear that magic spell."

"You know exactly what I mean. Should I shout it for everyone to hear, even with outsiders here?!"

Irritated by Iona's composure, Ivonne raised her voice.

People don't change, no matter the situation.

This was their first such exchange, but Iona found Ivonne's threats all too familiar.

At least Leroy wasn't nearby—that was a small mercy.

"If the Duke says he doesn't want to marry you, I'll be next in line. It's infuriating, but I'm your sister, after all. If you want a dress from me once I'm the Duchess, do as I say right now."

Ivonne spoke with the same shameless face as that fateful day.

Back then, Iona had begged for mercy, but not anymore.

With a relaxed smile, Iona asked,

"How exactly do you plan to marry the Duke?"

Ivonne stared at her as if she'd said something idiotic, oblivious to the same thought in Iona's eyes.

Iona continued brightly,

"Do you know why I'm marrying that man?"

"Obviously. Because our dad slaved away for the imperial family. That's why!"

"No."

Cutting her off, Iona took a step closer to Ivonne.

The height difference cast a faint shadow over Ivonne's face.