Chapter 3
“You should’ve been dancing nonstop at the ball, but instead you probably huddled with the Marquess’s daughter again, pretending to have some silly ‘book discussion.’ She’ll land a good match no matter how foolish she acts, but you two are different. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured out that simple truth?”
There was nothing wrong with Mrs. Heaton’s snappy remark.
Natalie was a noblewoman, but her dowry was far too small. Emily, on the other hand, had a generous dowry, but strictly speaking, she wasn’t nobility. She belonged to the gentry class.
Neither of them was a great beauty, so in short, they were hard to place.
“I told you again and again to keep your chatter to that useless book club of yours.”
At first, Mrs. Heaton had been pleased that Emily and Natalie were getting close to the wealthy Marquess’s daughter. She never imagined they’d spend all their time reading in some corner.
The friendship between the three girls was built around their book club. Since Mrs. Heaton wasn’t a fan of reading, she didn’t bother to check what they were reading. She just assumed it was poetry or plays and that they were sharing their thoughts.
“I couldn’t bear the shame of my daughter ending up a spinster. And I’m sure my sister, the Baroness, feels the same.”
At the mention of her mother, Natalie quickly nodded. Mrs. Heaton didn’t look too pleased.
She sighed deeply and began again.
“You still don’t seem to understand the gravity of this, so I have no choice. As your guardian, I’ll just have to show you how harsh reality really is.”
“Oh, Mother….”
“Emily, remember this. If you don’t marry this season, next year you’ll have to marry a man thirty years older than you.”
“What? Mother! You can’t mean that….”
“It’s still better than being a spinster living off your older brother. And Natalie, as for you…”
Emily tried to protest, but Mrs. Heaton cut her off without hesitation.
“This is your last season under my support. I trust you never expected to stay at Heaton Park again next year.”
Natalie thought to herself, ‘So it’s finally come to this.’
“There is no next time for you.”
Mrs. Heaton’s blunt declaration rang in Natalie’s ears. She’d been trying to ignore reality, but now it was hitting hard.
Everyone knew that a lady’s third season was the final line for securing a match. Natalie had always known this was her last chance. And she now accepted that for a woman in this world, marriage was no small matter.
‘I knew I had to marry this year, whether it’s pie or pudding.’
Still, marriage always felt like something distant, as if it had nothing to do with her.
Natalie finally managed to speak.
“…Of course. I understand, Aunt.”
“Then you better pull yourself together starting now. I’ve said it before, but you two should follow Bianca’s example. She married in her first season and became a Countess at that young age.”
Bianca Dawes, now the Countess of Rutherford, was Natalie’s younger sister by a year. Aside from a slight resemblance in appearance, they were complete opposites.
Where Natalie was dreamy and fanciful, Bianca was grounded and pragmatic. She had beaten her older sister to the altar in her debut season and had recently given birth to a son.
Even though her husband, the Count of Rutherford, was thirteen years older, that wasn’t such a shocking gap these days.
More importantly, the Rutherford family was prestigious, with a long line of judges. For the younger daughter of a poor barony, there was nothing to complain about.
“I do hope you two can also become model ladies.”
Not a disgrace. With that, Mrs. Heaton elegantly unfolded her newspaper.
Natalie, tuning out Emily’s complaints in the background, stared blankly at the bowl of soup in front of her.
‘A model lady. The perfect bride. Marriage….’
There was nowhere left to run. Marriage wasn’t something she could put off any longer.
‘I really do have to marry now.’
Whether it was the pressure of reality or the hangover, her stomach churned.
“Oh my! The Duchess Eris of Hinesnober just got divorced. What on earth did she do?”
Regardless of anyone else’s feelings, Mrs. Heaton was already onto another topic, reading the news with a twisted kind of delight.
Emily, despite her earlier outrage, quickly lost herself in the scandalous headline, never truly believing her mother would marry her off to an old man.
“Wait, wasn’t she the one who was famous for her beauty before marriage? What happened?”
“Who knows. Maybe she wasn’t really a proper lady after all. In any case, a divorce means she’ll never recover her reputation.”
Mrs. Heaton’s response wasn’t unusual.
The conservative church of Grand Batten promoted morality and proper conduct, constantly preaching about family values to its congregation.
In a world where people were born and died in the church, its influence was massive. Among nobles, divorce was an especially disgraceful thing. It was seen as breaking the vow made before God at the wedding. Essentially, it was heresy.
“So you see, Emily. Getting married isn’t the end. You must always uphold your dignity….”
Mrs. Heaton launched into another one of her long-winded lectures.
Of course, Natalie had stopped listening a while ago. Instead, she recalled something her mother once said, back when Natalie was in full rebellion mode, refusing to accept the obligations of womanhood.
“Living like everyone else is the key to happiness. Try to be different, and you’ll just end up miserable. Be ordinary, Natalie. Everyone sacrifices something. Please, just grow out of this phase….”
Natalie, who had once questioned everything about society, had scoffed at her mother’s words.
But she didn’t have the courage to defy the world either. Changing society required conviction, and Natalie didn’t really have one.
‘…Ugh. I feel sick.’
Her doubts hadn’t gone away. But just like before, she had no real alternative. Still caught in between, her life felt unresolved.
Natalie now felt like throwing up. Anything, just to let it out.
—
A full week by ship from Grand Batten.
In a hotel on a small island nation called Roland, the officers of the ‘King William’ were staying.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
There had been a rhythmic pounding echoing down the hallway of the junior officers’ rooms for some time. Along with it, now and then…
“Ah!”
A high-pitched moan added some variety.
The soldier on duty clenched his eyes shut. As if to mock him, a breathy, drawn-out moan came next.
If he could, the guard would have loved to kick down the door of the room that seemed to be the source of all this noise. But the room belonged to someone far above his rank.
The room’s occupant was a lieutenant.
“Lieutenant Roger Heaton.”
Just then, a low-ranking soldier showed up and, bravely, knocked on Lieutenant Roger Heaton’s door.
As expected, an explosion of foul language came in response.
“But, the major is calling for you.”
The soldier stubbornly shouted through the door. This time, there was another unintelligible yell. Only the last part was decipherable.
“Three minutes! Just give me three minutes!”
It seemed he was in a situation where he couldn’t come out right away.
The soldier scratched the back of his head, looking unsure. Then, ignoring Roger’s instructions, he quickly disappeared down the hall.
The guard decided to pretend he hadn’t seen or heard anything, telling himself he was just another hallway decoration. Still, it was hard to completely ignore what was going on.
A major was looking for that lieutenant. And on the King William, there was only one major.
‘That’ major.
“…Feels like it’s been more than three minutes.”
The guard nervously lifted his eyelids.
Then he froze.
At the end of the hallway stood a tall figure that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
‘Is that even a person?’
That was his first thought.
Because calling him just “a person” didn’t feel respectful enough for someone that stunningly beautiful…
Oh god.
‘That’s the major.’
The guard’s mouth dropped open. His mind went completely blank. He even forgot to salute.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Ah…”
The strange noises from the room continued, undisturbed.
As the guard stood there, frozen, the tall man, the major, leaned casually against the hallway wall. He silently stared at the guard, who was still gawking at him. It was like he was waiting to see how long the idiot would keep going.
Just before the poor guard could have a full-blown breakdown, the major smiled faintly. It was like he was saying, ‘Don’t worry, your reaction isn’t that weird.’
The beautiful major’s lips curved gently. That alone was enough to turn the panicked guard into a puddle. He wasn’t even into men, but this was just a human response.
The major helpfully pointed out what the guard was supposed to be doing.
“You should salute.”
That soft, coaxing voice sent a chill down the guard’s spine. But the word “salute” finally reminded him he was a soldier.
“Y-yes, sir!”
The salute that followed was as sloppy as his answer.
The major didn’t bother correcting him. Instead, he walked slowly down the hall. He stopped in front of the room where the thuds and moans were still coming from— Roger’s room.
“Open it.”
The major looked over his shoulder at the stunned guard. His tone didn’t match the kindness on his face.
“Yes, sir!”
The guard rushed over and grabbed the doorknob, twisting it hard.
Clunk. Clunk. The locked knob rattled loudly down the hallway.
The major’s smile deepened.
“…Do you think a locked door will just open like that?”
“Ah…”
The guard gasped, realizing his mistake a beat too late.
“Go tell him I’m here.”
The major whispered patiently.
The guard gulped.
It wasn’t normal for a superior to personally knock on a junior officer’s door. And this angel-faced man, who always lifted the corners of his eyes just slightly whenever they made eye contact, wasn’t just any superior.
He was Ian, Prince of Grand Batten.