Chapter 2
If Emily hadn’t been entering her third debut season alongside her, Natalie would have had to give up staying at her aunt’s house this year.
So Natalie knew better than anyone that to the mistress of the house, Mrs. Heaton, and to the servants, she was a world-class nuisance.
With her conscience still intact, Natalie accepted the subtle glares and slowly made her way to the breakfast room.
That room on the first floor of the house, where the sunlight came in best, sometimes doubled as a parlor. So Mrs. Heaton paid it extra attention.
At the center of the small, flower-filled, pretty room was a long rectangular table. And as always, on top of it…
“Oh, dear.”
A young lady with dark brown hair was slumped over with her forehead on the table. Seeing that made it even easier to understand why the maids glared at her.
A nuisance. A real nuisance.
Suppressing a laugh, Natalie greeted her dear cousin.
“Good morning, Emily.”
“Morning, Natalie.”
Emily barely lifted her head to answer. Her eyes, dull and brown, and her cracked voice were anything but ladylike. Of course, Natalie wasn’t in much better shape.
“No, actually, it’s not a good morning. I feel like I’m dying.”
“We’re getting older. No matter how fun it is, let’s take the carriage home by midnight next time.”
Emily told the truth right away, and Natalie took a seat, throwing out a joke that would’ve made Mrs. Heaton faint.
The servants thought Emily’s wild nightlife and delayed marriage were all Natalie’s fault. But the truth was, Natalie was just being dragged around by Emily.
Not that she minded. For a country baron’s daughter, tagging along with a fun, worldly city girl like Emily was thrilling.
Might as well enjoy it now. Once that vague thing called marriage finally comes around, who knows if they’ll ever have fun like this again?
“I just want cold water and cold soup.”
When Natalie placed her order, a maid quickly replied, “Yes, Miss Dawes,” and hurried out of the breakfast room.
In the meantime, the butler brought over a stack of letters. He placed those addressed to Mrs. Heaton, who hadn’t come downstairs yet, at her seat, and then handed out letters to Emily and Natalie.
Most letters to the two young ladies were invitations to balls.
Emily, unusually, didn’t react even after seeing the invitations. Her hangover must have been severe enough that she didn’t care about them today.
But Natalie was different. She had a letter she was waiting for every day.
At the same time, she didn’t expect much. She’d been let down too many times. Still, she mechanically started flipping through the stack of letters, all in various shapes and sizes.
And then her hand stopped.
Natalie’s eyes widened with surprise, and her voice burst out, full of excitement.
“Oh my god… Oh my god, oh my god! Really?”
“…You scared me. Did you get an invitation from the Duchess of Horace or something?”
The Duchess of Horace hosted the best ball in Dwan. Naturally, not just anyone got invited. A country baron’s daughter and a genteel class girl couldn’t even dream of attending.
“What would I do with an invitation from the Duchess of Horace?”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s… it’s even better than that.”
Even better than that? Emily, who was usually laid-back to the point of being oblivious, was now stammering with excitement. That piqued Emily’s curiosity, and she finally lifted her head.
“Hah… And here I thought it was something serious.”
Emily immediately regretted getting up.
“A letter from Roger? Really?”
“But it’s his first reply this year.”
Natalie’s deep brown eyes sparkled with joy, regardless of Emily’s sour expression.
What Natalie was holding up was a reply from Roger Heaton, Emily’s second-oldest brother.
Emily didn’t like Roger. Honestly, she thought he was a smug bastard.
A shallow narcissist who thought he was something just because he was good-looking. A vain hypocrite with an inflated ego that didn’t match what he’d actually achieved.
He was, in short, the child who most resembled their mother, Mrs. Heaton. Emily loved her mother, but she knew her character wasn’t exactly admirable.
Roger. A man with a severe prince complex, the embodiment of pretension and vanity! And Natalie had been in love with him for five years now. Poor girl.
Even so, Emily held back her words to protect Natalie’s first love. Instead, hoping Natalie might finally move on, she spoke up gently.
“I don’t get why you live for Roger’s letters when there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Beats me.”
Natalie answered offhandedly as she dove into the letter. She couldn’t care less about breakfast with Emily now.
With her chin resting on her hand, Emily muttered bluntly to Natalie.
“Sending ten letters just to maybe get one reply. You’re unbelievable. Even though he’s my brother, Roger won’t make a good husband or father.”
“Roger’s already a lieutenant in the navy. He must be really busy. He probably only has time to write when he’s docked.”
“Pfft. Still a lieutenant, you mean. Is he really that busy though? You always make excuses for Roger. Our Miss Dawes sure is forgiving.”
“Emily, Roger says he might come back to Dwan this winter!”
“So what?”
“Huh?”
“You have to go back to Warfield when the season ends this summer. I guess you won’t get to see him again this time either.”
Natalie got so excited hearing Roger was coming back that she forgot the important part.
She only stayed at her aunt’s house from the beginning of the social season through early summer. Staying any longer, even for someone pretending not to notice things, would be seriously overstepping.
“Oh… right. I won’t see him, then.”
“You’re something else. The only time you saw him was five years ago, and even then he stayed at the Dawes’ for what, a week? And you’ve liked him ever since?”
Even to Emily, her second older brother, with his blond hair and blue eyes, unlike hers, was a pretty handsome city man, though not without flaws. Still, she found it unbelievable that her cousin had kept those feelings alive for five years over one brief encounter when they were around fifteen.
“I don’t know either.”
Truthfully, Natalie didn’t know. Her feelings, which started when Roger visited their quiet village of Warfield, had turned into something more like a habit.
Still, if she traced it back, the beginning was clear enough….
When you live in a boring countryside, the only fun comes from eavesdropping on the gossip adults exchange in town. Among the stories, the talk about the ‘Grand Batten royal family,’ known for their good looks, caught Natalie’s attention.
A girl with an overactive imagination naturally began to picture this “prince” with golden hair, blue eyes, and pale skin.
Then she saw her cousin Roger, four years older than her.
In a village where young men were rare, a visiting cousin from the city often became a girl’s first love, even if he wasn’t all that special.
But Roger was special.
Blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin. He was exactly the prince the old ladies had described. To top it off, he was nineteen and wearing the dark navy uniform of a Royal Naval Academy cadet!
Natalie knew even back then that what she felt was more admiration than love. But the longer it lasted, the stronger it got.
Feeling sorry for Natalie, who had turned liking Roger into a habit, Emily spoke seriously.
“That Roger… the last time he was back, he looked totally wrecked. He’s not the Roger you remember. Ever since he got promoted, he’s been drowning in nightlife. And he hasn’t even grown an inch since you last saw him. Still short.”
Natalie wasn’t clueless about what soldiers got up to when docked. But Roger was her first love, and for someone who liked to daydream, he was a perfect subject. She gave a sharp little reply.
“Can you not ruin the one joy I have left?”
“Oh come on, Natalie! That’s harsh! Are you saying our balls and book clubs with Christina don’t count as joy?”
Emily had forgotten her hangover and jumped up to argue when…
“Raising your voice in the breakfast room? Emily, a lady never does that.”
Mrs. Heaton had entered the room at the worst possible moment.
Here it came.
The two young women, still unmarried and of marriageable age, fell silent like it had been rehearsed.
Mrs. Heaton looked over the irresponsible girls, who had come home drunk the night before, with clear disapproval. Her thin lips, tightly shut, and lean figure gave off her usual strict air.
To avoid a scolding, the guilty ladies gave a polite morning greeting and stayed as quiet as possible.
Without saying a word, Mrs. Heaton began going through the stack of letters in front of her. As she slowly checked each sender, her hand stopped on one letter.
“Damn it. We should’ve hidden or burned that one first…”
Natalie and Emily, guessing who the letter was from, exchanged nervous glances. Too late for regrets.
Mrs. Heaton finished reading the letter quickly, then slowly placed it on the table. Pressing her forehead as if holding back her anger, she muttered quietly.
“…I couldn’t keep chaperoning you both, so I finally left it to Lady Maureen.”
Not wanting to suffer the embarrassment of personally introducing her daughter and niece for the third time, Mrs. Heaton had arranged for Lady Maureen, a well-connected viscountess who lived in Dwan year-round, to serve as both chaperone and watchdog.
“You didn’t dance even once. You avoided Lady Maureen and just gossiped with other young ladies…”
“Mother, it’s just…”
“Is this true? Did I really read this right?”
“……”
“According to Lady Maureen, neither of you are ready to be brides, or even proper ladies. She won’t chaperone you anymore.”
Natalie recalled the small woman who kept nudging her to dance with aging gentlemen and thought that was honestly a relief. Of course, she kept that to herself.
“Are you two out of your minds? Do I need to remind you how important this season is? Emily, tell me. Why is this season important?”
“…Because if we don’t find a match by the third season, we’ll be branded as defective brides.”
Natalie’s brow twitched slightly at “defective.” You could’ve swapped in “pork” instead of “bride” and it would’ve made the same point. She could already picture herself in a pen like a sad little pig….
“You remember well. Natalie, you haven’t forgotten either, have you?”
Mrs. Heaton suddenly turned to her.
“Of course not, Aunt.”
“And yet you two managed to ruin the first ball of the season.”
Natalie quickly composed her face and tried to look like a docile young lady, but Mrs. Heaton’s tone remained cold.
