After that soirée, no matter how earnestly Leonardo pleaded to see her, Chloe never agreed. However many times the Linden messenger came with letters, she politely refused every one of them and never once accepted delivery.
Even knowing he’d given his love to another woman, she had intended to go on playing the fiancée, at least in form, until the wedding. But that business at the soirée made the whole idea seem ridiculous.
Think it through properly and Chloe has done nothing wrong. So why she should be looked down on to this degree is beyond her. What exactly was it in his behaviour that convinced her she was being treasured? She can’t work it out. All that time Leonardo was quite comfortably treating her with contempt.
[He won’t send me so much as one dress, and then throws a tantrum out of pure self-interest when someone else finds out. Inconsiderate and small-minded both. What on earth did I ever like about him……] (C)
The girl she used to be, in love with a man like that, strikes her as hopelessly pitiful. Sheltered as she was, her judgement of men was appalling.
‘Leonardo probably thinks “it’s only a dress.” But why can’t he see there’s a world of difference between doing it and not doing it?’
‘He has his “beloved” Sherry, so I’m nothing to him but a tool for marrying up. Unfortunately for him, I don’t recall ever lowering myself into being an object without feelings. Nor is there any reason for me to be looked down on by the second son of a duke, of all people.’
[——Really. Who does he think he is……] (C)
The more calmly she considers it, the less sense Leonardo’s conduct makes.
He has no house to inherit, so if the marriage into House Calendula falls through, he cannot go on living as a noble. On top of that, his family is out of favour with the crown prince, and this match is their one hope of holding their place in society.
And knowing all that, why behave as though she’s beneath him?
If the engagement broke tomorrow, Chloe would suffer nothing. For him and his house, it would be a matter of survival.
‘If I were in his position, I’d be doing everything in my power for the other party, for my own future and my family’s. Otherwise you lose your rank and can’t even feed yourself. A noble who has left every detail of daily life to other people can’t possibly live as a commoner — you don’t need to think about it to know that.’
So why does he not only fail to do that, but act as if she’s the one who ought to be grateful? And why did she ever consider him the ideal fiancé? Why was she never displeased that he wouldn’t send a gown to a soirée……?
[Could this be that “narrative force” I’ve heard about……?] (C)
However she turns it over, her fondness for a man like that, and her total failure to question anything he did, are simply strange.
‘Maybe what was at work was the so-called “force of the otome game.” The curtain can’t rise on the stage unless Leonardo marries into my house.’
‘If that’s it, it’s horrifying. Some invisible power moving me against my own will — the thought is revolting. Did getting my memories back cut me loose from it? If so, I got off lightly. At least he won’t be allowed to ruin my life.’
＊
A glass-walled salon with warm sunlight pouring softly in. Chandelier light glances off the silverware and colours the room like something out of a dream. Ladies’ laughter mingles with the scent of fine tea, and the whole scene deserves the name of high society.
Chloe sits with perfect grace at the table in the centre of it. She came to the tea party to take her mind off things, and her mind is not the least bit off them.
Wrapped in a rose-pink gown, her hand supple around her cup, she performs the flawless lady — to outward appearances, at least. Inside, she is anything but calm.
‘Leonardo-sama’s letters are relentless…… What a nuisance.’
Since the night of that soirée she has refused all contact with him. If the engagement is difficult to dissolve anyway, she’d rather simply not see him until the wedding day.
Until now, not knowing what he truly was, she had tried to build something good with him. Now that she’s seen the ugliness underneath, and knows he looks down on her, she can find no point in the effort. It’s wasted. However much heart she puts in, his heart belongs to Sherry.
Associating with a man who has given himself to another woman and holds her in contempt feels like nothing but a waste of time. She has to marry him, and afterwards she intends to divorce him at once, so never seeing his face again in the meantime suits her perfectly.
And yet — no, worse than that — he keeps trying, doggedly, to get to her. Perhaps he’s finally realised how bad it looks, or perhaps his family has said something. Either way, Chloe has no intention whatsoever of dealing with him further.
Without that much, there would be nowhere to put the wretchedness of having been regarded by her own fiancé as a ticket to marrying up.
Just then, the marchioness seated beside her sets down her tea and speaks.
[Lady Chloe, are you acquainted with my second son? He saw you at the soirée the other night, and he’s been walking on air ever since he came home.] (M)
Caught off guard, Chloe looks up in surprise. The marchioness gives a small laugh and continues.
[I’m well aware you have a fiancé, of course. But…… supposing circumstances led to it being dissolved, I imagine every house in the kingdom would raise its hand for someone like you.] (M)
Another lady picks up the thread, hiding her mouth behind her fan.
[I quite agree. My younger brother says merely laying eyes on Lady Chloe puts him in heaven—— And we have heard the recent talk about your fiancé, you know?] (Lady)
Chloe catches her breath. Talk — surely they mean the business with the gown at the soirée……
[Lady Chloe, dear. You mustn’t undervalue yourself; you are the heiress of the great House Calendula. Anyone who won’t treasure you isn’t fit to stand at your side.] (M)
A gentle, sweet voice, and words with something folded inside them. The ladies of society speak in sweet poison. But the poison seeps, slowly, into Chloe’s cold, dry heart.
[——Even so, a fiancé who won’t send a gown to a soirée. I’ve never heard of such a thing.] (Lady)
Drifting in with the scent of tea, that remark from somewhere at the table lodges in Chloe’s chest like a small thorn.
[Well, that really is unbelievable.] (Lady)
[He won’t send a gown? To Lady Chloe? That’s a joke in poor taste.] (Lady)
Their fans wave elegantly, but there’s unmistakable astonishment and pity in their voices.
A young lady whose fiancé won’t even send her a gown is invariably met in society with pity and derision. Being judged as worth no more than that is only natural. Chloe is reminded, all over again, of where she stands.
A soirée is a special night for a young lady, a night she is escorted by her betrothed, and it’s taken as a matter of course that the gown and jewellery come from him. It isn’t mere formality. It’s respect, and pride, and a silent declaration: this woman is my partner.
To have none of that is as good as not being considered a partner at all. It becomes proof that she’s someone he takes lightly, someone he doesn’t respect.
Wretchedness starts to spread through her chest — and at that exact moment, another voice goes up from somewhere down the table.
[Were it my son, I believe he’d put a whole team of craftsmen to work to have the finest gown made for his fiancée.] (Lady)
[Oh, my nephew spares neither effort nor expense where his lady is concerned. Gowns, naturally, and he’d see to the finest jewellery besides.] (Lady)
The conversation gathers heat, and gradually turns into a chorus of recommendations for the man who would suit Chloe.
[Truly, how could someone like you—— Lady Chloe, if you’d be willing, might you meet my son just once? He’s such a kind boy.] (M)
[Let me add my request. My brother is considerate and impeccably well-mannered. He would never commit a discourtesy like failing to send a gown for a soirée.] (Lady)
They’re all smiling, and their eyes are entirely serious.
Every one of them wants a connection to Chloe. And that’s when it strikes her.
The one being scorned isn’t Chloe. It’s Leonardo. And these women are trying to take the place at Chloe’s side away from him. She had no idea the position of Calendula’s son-in-law was coveted so fiercely among the nobility.
Candidate after candidate is produced. Like goods laid out at market, the ladies bring forward second sons, third sons, even distant nephews, as her next prospective partner.
Chloe deflects it all with a smile — and somewhere inside, feels the tension go out of her shoulders.
‘……I see. So this is how highly society values Chloe.’
Once, being introduced around like this might have struck her as presumptuous, even rude. Not now. Now it’s proof of exactly how highly these women rate her.
Simplyrical 