Chapter 7
“What? Thrill?”
At Petrick’s seemingly romantic words, laughter erupted from inside.
“Thrill! Petrick, you’re more of a romantic than you look. How could there be such a thing in an arranged match between families?”
“You don’t understand. Being with that woman Letricia is like being with a well-made porcelain doll.”
Petrick exhaled a tired sigh as he picked up another glass.
“She barely speaks and just quietly smiles at everything. Sometimes it gives me chills wondering if she’s actually a living person.”
“Hey, isn’t that too harsh? What if your fiancée hears you?”
“Let her hear it. Even if she does, my dear fiancée will probably just smile as usual.”
Thunk.
Petrick set down his second empty glass on the table and shrugged his shoulders.
“I mean it. Want to make a bet if you don’t believe me?”
“If you’re that confident, why not?”
“…Pfft.”
When someone matched Petrick’s challenge, there was a moment of silence before Petrick shook his head.
“Forget it. It probably wouldn’t be fun anyway. Come on, let’s stop this boring talk and continue our card game.”
Then, as if having lost interest, he started focusing on the cards in his hand again.
“…”
Letricia, who had been standing and watching everything, approached where Petrick was.
And when she placed her hand on the half-open door, the creak of the thick door being pushed back filled the corridor.
“…Ricia?”
Just moments ago, he had been disparaging Letricia without hesitation, but now Petrick’s expression upon facing her was quite a sight.
His eyes darting around busy checking if she might have heard his words, while his lips wore a pretend welcoming smile.
Plus his hurried movements to put out his cigar and fix his disheveled clothes.
In those brief moments approaching Letricia, Petrick displayed quite a variety of actions.
“When… when did you arrive, Ricia?”
“Just now. By the way, you said you had urgent business, but it seems you arrived earlier than expected, Petrick.”
“Ah… um.”
Seeing Letricia appearing no different than usual, the bewildered look on Petrick’s face gradually cleared, and he quickly put on an affectionate smile as if nothing had happened.
“Ah yes. Actually, I haven’t been here long either. If I’d known, I should have gone to the castle gate to greet you. I’m sorry for making you come alone, Ricia.”
Claiming he had just arrived himself, Petrick spoke while exuding a strong scent of sweet champagne from who knows how long he’d been drinking.
“You understand, right, Ricia?”
As he called her affectionate nickname, Letricia stared at him blankly.
His honey blonde hair naturally swept to one side.
His beautiful face that belonged in an oil painting hanging in a temple.
Petrick possessed looks stunning enough to catch anyone’s eye.
Although he had the flaws of being illegitimate and not properly acknowledged by Duke Godwin.
But his face was beautiful enough to make even those things seem irrelevant.
That’s why every noble lady had secretly harbored feelings for Petrick at least once.
No, perhaps it would be more accurate to say they still do.
Judging by the red lipstick stain on Petrick’s white shirt collar.
“By the way, you look pale, are you alright? First, come in here and…”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Ricia?”
Petrick, who had been reaching toward her pale round cheeks pretending to be caring, awkwardly withdrew his arm when Letricia avoided his hand.
“Hmm…”
Then Petrick reached for the tray of desserts in the servant’s hands beside him.
The movement made the lipstick mark even more obvious. Too obvious to ignore.
Did he not know what was on him? Or was he doing this on purpose?
After pondering briefly, Letricia came to a conclusion. Petrick clearly hadn’t known about the obvious traces of his tryst.
“…!”
Seeing how he hurriedly adjusted his clothes after seeing his reflection in the shiny tray.
“Ahem! Hem-hem.”
After shooting a glance at his friends as if asking why they hadn’t told him earlier, Petrick turned back around as if nothing had happened.
Holding pink champagne in his delicate hands that had never held a sword.
“Ricia, at least wet your throat a bit.”
“This… are you giving this to me?”
“Hm? Of course, who else would I give it to?”
Petrick burst into laughter as if asking why she would question something so obvious.
His expression was so brilliantly cheerful that it seemed impossible to believe it was an act – even Letricia, who had directly heard him bad mouthing her, almost believed his smile was genuine for a moment.
If it weren’t for this champagne he was offering her, she might really have believed it.
“Petrick.”
“Yes, Ricia?”
“This champagne, what is it made from?”
“Um… judging by the color, it looks like peach?”
“…And you want me to drink this?”
Splash.
Seeing Petrick innocently swirling the glass, Letricia swallowed a bitter laugh.
“What’s wrong, Ricia? Don’t you like peach? I thought you said you did before. No?”
No.
Letricia doesn’t like peaches. No, she can’t like them.
How could she when just the fruit touching her tongue would make her throat swell up instantly?
She had definitely told him several times.
Even after personally witnessing how she had almost had a serious incident because of the peach cake he gave her on her last birthday.
Petrick wore an expression like a blank white canvas, as if he knew nothing about Letricia’s peach allergy.
‘Should I tell him again?’
About to move her lips to explain for the umpteenth time, Letricia just closed her mouth.
Because she realized this too was now all pointless.
“Ricia. Are you perhaps feeling pressured because it’s imperial food? Don’t worry about that, just try it. When else would you get to taste something this precious?”
Along with contempt disguised as kindness, the glass Petrick forcefully handed over came into her hand.
And at the same time, a servant approached and handed Petrick a note.
“Um, Lord Petrick. Someone asked me to give you this…”
“For me? Who… Ah!”
Petrick’s expression, which had looked puzzled when receiving the note, brightened instantly.
But then he pulled down his eyebrows to make an apologetic expression.
“Ricia, what should we do? It seems something’s come up… I need to step away for a moment.”
“The first dance will start soon though?”
“Hmm… that’s true, but…”
Looking around as if troubled, Petrick pulled over someone within reach and placed him in front of Letricia.
“Ricia, I’m sorry but how about dancing the first dance with this friend? I’ll be back before the second music starts. This friend will be quite a good partner. Right, Greg?”
“Huh? Ah, yes! Lady Esta, please come to the hall with me for the first dance. Haha!”
Jabbed by Petrick’s pointy elbow in his side, Greg awkwardly smiled while munching on a biscuit.
Then an unwiped crumb fell with a plop into the champagne in hand.
Bubble bubble.
The crumb rapidly sank as bubbles seeped through the dough.
“…Alright. Go ahead.”
“…! Really?”
Where was his shamelessness from before? When actual permission fell from Letricia’s lips, Petrick’s eyes rounded in surprise.
But that was only momentary, and Petrick left as if he’d been waiting for this. Without even looking back once.
And on the note in Petrick’s hand as he rushed away…
There was a lip mark identical to the trace left on Petrick’s nape.
Watching Petrick leave without even trying to hide his excitement, Letricia called out to Greg who was munching on biscuits beside her.
“Lord Greg. Do you really intend to dance with me?”
“Well, yes… since Petrick said to, I suppose I should?”
Greg dully scratched his head with his thick hand.
Yet his eyes were turned sideways like a flounder, apparently looking at the finger foods being newly set out.
As his friends approached the table one by one, Greg’s body twitched.
Though clearly anxious that his share might not be left, he still seemed to feel he should dance.
His feet, thickly planted on the ground, swayed left and right as if dancing a waltz, unable to decide.
Seeing his rather pitiful state, Letricia decided his destination for him.
“It’s fine if you go. I don’t mind not dancing.”
“Really? Why didn’t you say so earlier!”
Quite simply, Greg ran straight to the table.
Having easily removed the obstacle, Letricia entered the banquet hall still holding the champagne Petrick had given her.
Then she followed him up the central stairs to the second floor.
Soon after, as the soft melody announcing the first dance began flowing through the hall, and when the leisurely melody’s tempo quickened enough to cover all noise, Petrick’s shocked cry rang out like a discordant note in the second floor corridor, drenched in champagne.
“Aagh! Letricia! What are you doing! Are you crazy?”
