Chapter 13
“Was the tour comfortable for you…? Somehow your face looks even more…”
The man, who had hesitated for a moment, kept muttering in amazement as he walked toward the sofa.
“Truly impressive… You should be bowing to Her Majesty the Queen every day. I think I’ve said this before, but no one will ever match her beauty. Of course, except for you and Princess Charlotte. Well, the three of you look almost identical anyway.”
“You’re still as talkative as ever. Sit down.”
“But really, did you actually go on that tour?”
The man was simply astonished. No matter how many attendants you have, a tour that requires months of travel by ship is grueling. Yet somehow, the prince in front of him looked even more radiant than a year ago.
“Be quiet.”
“You’re as cold as ever! Well, I suppose that’s part of your charm. Anyway, it’s been a while. Ah, I greet His Highness, Duke Ian of Valderma. Congratulations on your safe return.”
It was hard to know where to start correcting him. Faced with royalty, all etiquette and order were a mess.
“If the Horace family ever loses its dukedom, it’ll be your fault for being so cheeky.”
“Anyway, let’s not meet at White Tail anymore. The place has gone downhill.”
Duke Horace, Aster Horace, elegantly crossed his legs on the velvet sofa and pretended not to hear Ian’s chilly warning as he changed the subject.
He could get away with this because he was the prince’s longtime friend and the head of the Horace family, which was as old as the royal family of Grand Batten.
“It’s useless. Dwan is noisy and chaotic no matter where you go.”
“It’s your city to rule. You should at least try to love it. Love takes effort. My successful marriage is a good example.”
Aster poured whiskey into a dazzling crystal glass as he thought of his marriage.
“I truly love my wife, my duchess.”
He called it love, but his feelings for his wife were closer to camaraderie. After fulfilling their noble duty of producing an heir, the duke and duchess each kept their own lovers. It was an open secret.
“Hm. If you say so.”
“…?”
He was only joking, but Ian’s reaction was odd. Aster, about to make a toast, set his glass down on the table. For a high-ranking noble, he was rather chatty and quick to catch on.
“What’s with that meaningful reaction? Is it that thing you said you’d tell me when the time was right? Are you ready?”
There were only two people in the room, but Aster unconsciously lowered his voice. Ian answered with a faint smile.
“My goodness. I knew you wouldn’t call me here just because you were bored. I’m always ready, so tell me now. Do you know how curious I’ve been?”
“I’m planning to get married this social season.”
Aster couldn’t hide his disappointment at the breezy answer.
“…You’ve been preparing for three years, and all you’re doing is getting married? I know it’s about time for you to marry, but still.”
“That’s why I’m doing it.”
“That’s so anticlimactic… So, who’s the lucky princess?”
“I need to find her now. I’d like your duchess’s help. That’s why I called you today.”
Aster blinked several times. He couldn’t immediately understand Ian’s words.
“Ian, it’s true my duchess is called the queen of Dwan’s social scene, but her connections only work within Grand Batten…”
“Exactly. That’s why I need Catherine’s help.”
“Wait, Ian.”
They were both speaking Grand Batten’s language, but he still didn’t get it. The conversation felt like it was going in circles.
“I’m not sure I understand. Can you explain step by step? How is Catherine supposed to find you a bride? She’s amazing, but she doesn’t have connections to foreign princesses.”
“I’m going to marry a young lady from Grand Batten.”
“…Uh. That’s not allowed, is it?”
Ian smiled brightly at Aster’s dumbfounded reaction. That satisfied smile left Aster speechless, his lips just moving.
“You’re saying you want a morganatic marriage? Do you know what that means?”
“A mismatched marriage. An abnormal union that brings disadvantages in inheritance.”
It was an old and strict custom that nobles marry nobles, and royals marry royals.
The prince answered clearly.
“No… Ian. That’s not… That’s not what I wanted to hear…”
Aster already sensed Ian’s stubbornness and shook his head in denial.
“You really don’t care about the House of Lords. You might lose your succession rights like your brother…”
“You said it yourself. Of all of us, Charlotte would make the best monarch. I respect your judgment.”
Aster slowly frowned. He remembered saying something like that when they were young.
“…So that’s why Charlotte went on the tour, to solidify her position.”
Aster wiped his face roughly and stared into space with a serious look.
After a while, he spoke again.
“I doubt the Grand Batten Church will recognize a marriage between a baron’s daughter and a prince… Things are different from Edward’s case. The House of Lords won’t let go of the last prince so easily.”
Last year, when Eris finally won her annulment case after two years, the people supported Edward and Eris’s love.
The House of Lords and the royal family stepped back, and the two succeeded in marrying.
The crown prince’s position had been vacant for over three years.
“Right. I’ll have to make an even crazier choice than Edward. One that can’t be excused just because I’m a prince.”
“…You don’t have to. Can’t you just not?”
“So, Duke, my bride should have as many problems as possible. Not the best, but the worst match of the season.”
“Ah…”
“You’re in the House of Lords, so you’ll be helpful. I want a lady who’ll make you say, ‘If you marry that woman, you’ll have to give up all the rights of a Grand Batten prince.’”
“Haa…”
Aster groaned again and again. The most perfect prince, Ian, had truly revolutionary requirements for a bride.
“And I’ll get divorced after a year.”
Eek. Aster finally screamed like someone who’d heard something terrifying.
‘Divorce is a sin.’
In a world where the church is with you from birth to death, doctrine is another law.
The reason the House of Lords long opposed the annulled Marquess Eris was more religious than diplomatic.
The head of the Grand Batten Church is the king. A divorce is unacceptable for him.
“Aster, I’m going to be a divorced man.”
“You, you! You’re crazy! You’ve lost your mind!”
“I really like that reaction.”
Ian laughed as if he enjoyed Aster’s panic.
“You’re just looking for a woman who’ll be easy to divorce…”
“If you have any questions, send someone to Malik House. Don’t visit in person. You’re too noisy.”
Before Aster could regain his senses, Ian placed a letter detailing his bride requirements on the table. Then, as if he’d finished all his business, he got up lightly.
Aster stared at Ian’s back with a pale face.
“Oh, and keep your mouth shut.”
“Oh, Ian. Why don’t you want to be king? It’s great being king. Let’s not make this complicated. Wait a second…”
“That mustache doesn’t suit you.”
Ian said without looking back.
Aster, who became a duke at a young age, had grown a mustache to look more dignified. He shyly covered his mouth, looking a bit hurt.
Regardless, Ian’s steps as he passed through the private room’s door were lighter than usual.
Aster was sharp enough to know which side to take. Having dumped the troublesome task of finding a bride on Aster, Ian was in a good mood for the first time in a while.
Behind Ian, Aster’s wail echoed like a curse: “What’s wrong with you siblings! Why are you both so desperate to ruin your blessed lives?”
“Your Highness, are you going to Malik House?”
Marcus Peeble, who had been following Ian, asked. Ian’s steps slowed then. It was because he saw an unexpected person through the corridor window leading to the private room.
‘Lieutenant Roger Heaton.’
Aster’s slightly brash attitude made him seem like a laid-back gentleman, but as a high-ranking noble, he was deeply arrogant and conservative. The “anyone” he mentioned was Roger Heaton.
Ian finally stopped without realizing it. Seeing Roger Heaton brought back certain memories.
An apricot-colored envelope. Handwriting like a general’s. A casket hat and suspenders. Pale face, exotic dark brown eyes and hair.
For someone with such a colorful history of escapades, she’d looked so frightened, sniffling and crying, yet still managed to get under the prosecutor’s skin.
It was amazing how clearly he remembered everything about a woman he hadn’t thought of in so long.
If he recalled correctly, her name was…
“Your Highness?”
“…Natalie Dawes.”
“Pardon…?”
Marcus, for the first time in a long time, responded stupidly.
It was only natural. The prince had never mentioned that name before, and it hadn’t been spoken in three years. Marcus couldn’t imagine why he would bring it up now.
While Marcus was still trying to catch up with his master’s train of thought, Ian started moving again.
“What happened to her after she was acquitted…”
He muttered to himself as he walked.
“I… I’m not sure. I’ll look into it.”
Marcus, tilting his head, hurried after Ian, who was already far ahead. Strangely, there was no reply.
Ian hadn’t heard Marcus’s voice for a while now, but the aide never imagined the prince could be so lost in thought that he wouldn’t hear him.
That was Marcus Peeble’s first mistake.
