Chapter 7: The Fox Hunt

“Mother, did you see that?”

Lindia scowled deeply as she spoke to Sabrina. She was appalled that Lyra hadn’t even acknowledged her despite their eyes meeting just moments ago.

“Yes.”

Sabrina had also witnessed it but showed no outward reaction. She merely gazed quietly at Lyra, who had captured everyone’s attention with her striking appearance.

“How could she do this? How dare she ignore me after seeing me?”

Lindia’s face grew increasingly flushed with excitement. Lyra should have approached them to greet them first—that wouldn’t have been enough—yet she turned away, pretending not to know them. It felt strangely unfamiliar and deeply offensive.

And that wasn’t all. From her clothes to the jewels adorning her body, the difference in size and quality made Lindia nearly mad with anger.

“She’s been staying at the Duke’s residence, has she finally lost her mind?”

Sabrina firmly grasped Lindia’s hand, noticing her increasingly agitated voice. Unlike Lindia, who was solely focused on Lyra, Sabrina was more concerned about the glances that briefly concentrated on them before turning away.

She worried that Lindia, unskilled in controlling her emotions, might say something to offend Duke Lianton. Yet Lindia was not easily calmed.

“That cheap, frivolous nobody. She, who used to crawl at my feet!”

Her heated gaze wouldn’t leave Lyra, who was chattering away with the ladies.

“What happened? Why is she getting all the attention? It’s the same debut stage…”

Lindia bit her lip. Her jaw muscles protruded, making her expression even more vicious.

“How can there be such a difference? What makes her so much better than me?”

When her soft muttering revealed a tearful undertone, Sabrina’s attention finally turned to Lindia.

‘Even after warning her so thoroughly.’

Though she understood Lindia’s feelings, if left unchecked, she seemed ready to expose all manner of unfavorable family matters. Sabrina frowned slightly and squeezed Lindia’s hand even tighter.

Lindia had only just entered society with Duke Lianton’s help, though not as a proper debutante.

If she created an unpleasant situation because she couldn’t swallow her pride, and fell out of favor with Duke Lianton, what would happen then? They might retain management rights for the hotel for a while, but the future would become uncertain.

Moreover, not only would they never be invited to such grand social parties again, but if Lindia didn’t find a suitable husband this time, it might become forever difficult.

Sabrina alternated her gaze between her husband, who was looking for an opportunity to approach Duke Lianton, and her eldest son Jerdian, who was easily conversing among the sons of noble families, before turning back to Lindia.

“That’s enough.”

“Why? Aren’t you angry, Mother? She’s disrespecting us!”

“Lindia.”

“It’s true. Someone who used to tremble while doing what she was told can’t suddenly change like that. She shouldn’t leave us standing here against the wall.”

“…”

“Oh, is that it? They say old habits die hard—has she decided to cling to the Duke instead? Is that why she’s his lover too?”

Sabrina raised her eyebrows at this childish outburst. It wasn’t that she had never harbored doubts herself. But hadn’t she clearly seen it that day? How Duke Lianton treated Lyra. What his gaze was like. And how contemptuous his look was when he regarded them.

“You’re exaggerating.”

Lindia responded with confident eyes as Sabrina sighed deeply.

“I knew it! That’s what it is!”

“This won’t do. Let’s go outside.”

Sabrina hastily pulled Lindia away. But Lindia, her insides churning with jealousy, stubbornly refused to leave. Their eyes might meet again at any moment, and Lyra might come to greet them—she didn’t want to slip away like a fugitive with nothing to show for it.

But Sabrina wasn’t just any mother. Unable to withstand her mother’s stern gaze, Lindia finally yielded and had no choice but to leave the ballroom.

Behind where the mother and daughter had disappeared, a woman lowered and folded her fan, smiling slyly. It was Baroness Mace, who fancied herself the lark of society. She tapped her fan in her hand, deliberating over who to share this interesting story with first.

‘Marchioness Fontpagneu? Hmm, it seems she’s already gathering enough information. Then Baroness Haister? Well, she does run a newspaper, so she would certainly be interested…’

Baroness Mace’s gaze turned toward the balcony—where a woman with teary eyes had quietly exited just moments ago.

‘That would be perfect.’

After all, a lady who had seen more of the world had a duty to comfort a heartbroken young miss. Soon, her light footsteps headed toward the particularly gloomy-looking balcony.

* * *

“My goodness, I’m so envious. So what happened next?”

One of the ladies urged with curious eyes. Lyra, who had been smoothly recounting her prepared romance story with the Duke, smiled at the rather youthful-looking lady.

“He rescued me when I was in trouble. He could have just passed by, but he didn’t. That’s when I knew—that love at first sight truly exists.”

“Oh my! So the romance began from that moment?”

“You could say that. When I asked him later, the Duke said he felt the same way. This is embarrassing, but he said I closely resembled his ideal type.”

She lowered her eyes shyly, careful not to appear boastful. For a moment, the conversation fell silent. When she slowly raised her gaze, the ladies who had been staring blankly at her awkwardly lifted their lips into smiles.

Just then, someone broke the awkward atmosphere with a question.

“Then your nights must be passionate? How is he? Is the Duke skilled? If the rumors I’ve heard are true, I imagine he would be.”

A somewhat sharp voice, but with a faint trace of curiosity beneath it.

“Pardon?”

The unexpected question caused a slight crack in the mask-like expression she had been wearing. She hadn’t anticipated the level of intimacy in the ladies’ conversation.

But more than that, Lyra felt somewhat uncomfortable. Not only did it seem to mock the Duke’s past behavior, but she didn’t want to gossip about the Duke’s private life that they hadn’t agreed upon beforehand.

“Was that too embarrassing a question for a young lady?”

The woman’s gaze lingered on Lyra’s flat stomach, then slowly traced over her body-hugging dress that appeared somewhat provocative, before finally meeting her eyes. As if trying to confirm the pregnancy rumors that had spread rapidly since Lyra’s entrance.

Lyra clasped her slightly trembling fingertips together, making sure they weren’t noticed, and smiled gently.

“Since you already know, I don’t think there’s anything more for me to say.”

A peculiar battle of wills suddenly spread through the air. It was Countess Bouller, who had been watching her warily. The Countess, likely supporting Davira Claudia, frowned as if no longer wishing to participate in the charade.

“You are well-loved.”

At that moment, a quiet voice penetrated between the two women. It was Marchioness Fontpagneu, who had been silently listening until then. Deliberately shifting the topic away from the Duke’s sex life, she looked at Lyra with kind eyes.

“I’ve always wondered who could melt the heart of that ice-like Duke. Seeing you today, I understand why. He was searching for his destiny. Isn’t that right, Miss Norris?”

As the calm voice softly resonated, not only Lyra’s face but also the ladies’ faces instantly flushed with embarrassment. The way she gracefully navigated a potentially awkward situation was always the epitome of noble dignity.

Lyra stared blankly at Marchioness Fontpagneu’s face for a moment. There was something about the Marchioness that captivated people’s attention, enough to make Lyra forget it was impolite to stare—even enough to forget that her mask might slip.

Perhaps Lyra wanted to find that quality. To imprint with her eyes the elegance that flowed naturally without any special words, rather than from collected information.

“It was a pleasure to meet you today. I hope we’ll see each other often.”

A slightly androgynous yet not too heavy voice politely signaled Lyra’s exit. In that moment, Lyra’s heart sank.

Had she offended the Marchioness with her recent behavior? She hadn’t even had a proper conversation with her yet.

To successfully enter Brikna’s social circle, and to gain the upper hand in her future relationship with Davira, she needed Marchioness Fontpagneu’s help.

‘It’s too early…’

As she was considering what plausible excuse might work, Marchioness Fontpagneu spoke while looking behind Lyra.

“We’ve been so inconsiderate. Unmarried young ladies need time with their peers as well. Come join us, Miss Davira.”

‘Davira Claudia?’

Lyra turned her head—toward the prey meant exclusively for her.