Chapter 18
“Is that so? I heard you and Lady Cecilia are only a couple years apart.”
Margaret drained her champagne and stepped up to my right side.
“Lady Cecilia, would you show me the garden? My mother’s gone on and on about the Linton estate’s garden—I was about ready to go deaf.”
She paid no mind to Isla, who had been clinging to my left arm the whole time.
Without hesitation, Margaret pried me away from Isla’s grasp like uprooting a tree.
“Excellent idea, Lady Margaret. I’ll join you.”
Ricardo used his broad frame to edge Isla aside.
Isla, displaced, looked at Countess Rosette with a wounded expression.
“Cecilia.”
Rosette called out to me. She wanted me to cover for Isla, no doubt.
Cecilia probably answered that kind of call for years.
But I wasn’t her. Instead, I chose to walk into the garden with a beautiful woman on one arm and a handsome man on the other.
“It’s my duty to entertain our guests. I hear Miss Elodie’s performances are rare—please enjoy them as much as you like.”
I ignored the stinging gazes that burned into the back of my head.
The cool night air helped clear my thoughts.
Coming back to my senses meant I now realized Margaret was fine—but bringing Ricardo along? That had been unnecessary.
He must’ve felt me fidgeting with my left arm, but he didn’t budge.
“My lord, I really don’t need to be escorted.”
I hesitated, not wanting to seem rude, but eventually said it.
Ricardo glanced sideways at me and replied, nonchalantly, “Who said I was escorting the Countess?”
“Well then, if not that, your arm…”
“I’m the one about to collapse—I need support.”
This man looked like he could get hit with a brick and not flinch.
“You wouldn’t abandon a poor soul suffering from chronic anemia, would you? Even after showing such kindness to your husband’s mistress?”
If we’d been alone, I might’ve stomped on his foot with my heel to get free.
“Don’t worry about Lady Margaret.”
Ricardo had noticed where my anxious glances were going and shrugged.
Just as he said, Margaret was too busy admiring the tiny lanterns hung from the trees.
“I’ve been to many parties, but I’ve never seen decorations like these. You’re so full of creative ideas, Lady Cecilia.”
Tonight’s entire event was Penelope’s work.
She had captured fireflies and placed them in round glass jars.
Trapped, the fireflies buzzed nervously and glowed faintly, casting a soft light that made the garden look dreamlike.
“It wasn’t my idea.”
I answered honestly while subtly trying to free my arm from Ricardo’s grasp.
But I soon realized it was useless. I couldn’t break free.
I decided to stop trying. No use wasting energy on something hopeless.
“It wasn’t yours?”
Margaret turned toward me.
Her eyebrows rose when she saw me still linked with Ricardo.
Perfectly arched, they clearly expressed her thoughts.
Naturally, Ricardo—with his infuriatingly thick skin—pretended not to notice at all.
“There will be plenty more parties in your future, Lady Cecilia, but your first is always the most important.”
Margaret completely ignored Ricardo.
“If you manage to pull off your first event, even your later missteps will be forgiven.”
She reached up and unhooked one of the jars from a tree, holding it delicately with a finger.
“This alone is enough to make up for any number of mistakes you might make in the future.”
Cheers erupted somewhere in the distance. Probably other guests taking a stroll through the garden before dinner.
“Shall we try that again?”
Margaret repeated her earlier praise, this time watching me closely, expecting the right response.
But I shook my head.
“It really wasn’t my idea.”
“Lady Cecilia…”
Her voice carried a hint of exasperation.
“I was planning to introduce her during dessert, but I’ll tell you early, Lady Margaret.”
Ricardo’s grip loosened slightly—as if he’d been only half-listening until now.
I took the opportunity and finally freed my arm.
“This was all Madame Penelope’s creation.”
I handed the glass lantern Margaret had been holding back to her.
“And not just the garden—the decorations inside the mansion as well. All hers.”
Her stare grew intense. I almost looked away.
But before I could—
“Ahaha!”
Margaret suddenly burst out laughing.
“Lady Margaret?”
“I’m sorry—haha—it’s not an insult, I promise.”
And it truly wasn’t a mocking laugh.
She didn’t bother hiding it behind her fingertips or a handkerchief—it was hearty, unfiltered laughter.
“I honestly thought you were the tragic heroine type.”
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
“And sure, I understood why you might be. But still, I thought it was foolish.”
I was glad Cecilia was already gone.
It didn’t bother me, but if she were still here—the woman who had staked everything on Edgar—this would’ve cut deep.
“It was understandable.”
“It was—back then.”
Margaret continued with her thought.
I nodded.
“Yes. Back then.”
That was enough of a defense—for Cecilia.
“I’m glad to be meeting the Lady Cecilia you are now.”
Margaret extended her hand toward me.
I tried to return the glass lantern, but she shook her head.
“A handshake.”
“A handshake?”
Women in this world didn’t shake hands.
If meeting someone of equal or higher status, they curtsied. To those beneath them, they simply stood upright and received bows.
“To commemorate becoming friends.”
“Friends.”
“I like you, Lady Cecilia.”
Swept up in her bold energy, I reached out—but we were interrupted.
“Lord Ricardo.”
Margaret’s tone turned pointed and sharp.
“If we’re friends, there shouldn’t be secrets.”
“Says the one hiding a pitch-black secret herself?” Ricardo quipped.
“I’ll admit it’s dark, but the rest of that is an unfair guess.”
I was surprised. I hadn’t realized they knew each other—not just acquaintances, but close.
“I’ll tell her. When the time is right.”
“Until then, friendship’s on hold.”
Ricardo was acting like he was my personal guardian.
Annoyed, I looked him in the eyes and said calmly,
“Lord Ricardo. You have no say in who I befriend.”
He wasn’t a friend, or even a proper acquaintance.
Margaret looked briefly startled, then let out a hearty laugh.
“Even if his heart is pitch-black, his ears work fine, don’t they? You heard her.”
Triumphantly, she grabbed my hand.
Through the thin gloves, her rough palm met mine.
“Surprised?”
Noblewomen didn’t walk themselves or draw their own bath water.
Soft, uncalloused hands were marks of status.
Margaret asked quietly, with a strange glint in her eye,
“She’s like me.”
Ricardo’s voice came low and flat.
“She’s the Baron of Artois’s illegitimate daughter.”
So that was Margaret’s secret—the one she had planned to reveal when the time was right.
And now Ricardo had laid it bare without warning.
I hesitated, unsure how to respond.
“My lady! Dinner is about to begin!”
Crunching over the grass came Sarah, flushed from running around the estate.
“Right. I’ll be there.”
“Let’s head back too, Lord Ricardo.”
Margaret returned to her composed, dignified expression.
“I’m looking forward to meeting Madame Penelope later.”
“Don’t put unnecessary pressure on the Countess of Linton,” Ricardo warned with a frown, nudging Margaret’s back.
“Introduce Pepe only if the moment feels right. And if not, don’t bother.”
It was strange—watching this handsome man with strong brows use a nickname like “Pepe.”
“Keep smiling like that later. It suits you.”
Leaving those words behind, Ricardo led Margaret away in the opposite direction.
“My lady?”
Sarah called to me, puzzled.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Just then, Edgar’s voice echoed in my memory—‘Not bad.’
It had been intended as a compliment, in his own way.
A phrase I was oddly familiar with.
My mother used to say it all the time.
No matter how hard I tried, the best she would give me was a snide “Not bad,” or “Well, I suppose you did it.”
You look nice.
Ricardo had tossed that out so casually—and yet, the tips of my fingers tingled.
Strange.
I shook the image of his face and voice from my head like ripples breaking the surface of water.
“Let’s go.”
It was time to work.
The banquet hall was full. Every seat at the long table was taken.
“Sarah, tell the kitchen to begin serving.”
I gave the order after confirming that all the guests were seated.
Then, I took my place beside Edgar—his empty seat waiting for me.
“Where were you?” he asked in a low voice.
“The garden,” I replied curtly.
“With him.”
Though his lips held a polite smile, his voice was sharp as a knife.
“Ah, Lady Cecilia! Thank you again for showing me that lovely garden!”
Margaret’s voice rang out from farther down the table.
“It was nothing. Just doing my duty.”
“Everyone should see Lady Cecilia’s Garden. It was so beautiful, I wanted to leave my eyes there.”
Her cheeky comment drew gentle laughter from the guests.
“I saw it too. Only for a moment, but it almost made me wish I didn’t have to come back inside.”
A lady added her agreement.
Naturally, the topic turned to the garden’s decorations.
Guests began recommending their favorite florists, discussing which flowers bloomed best in each season—and eventually, the conversation shifted to birth flowers.
“Yours is beautiful too, sister.”
From across the table, Isla suddenly leaned forward and spoke up.
