Chapter 117 - Jealousy, The Seed of Doubt

Ariadne and Alfonso kept their promise. Ariadne sat in the front row of the general seating with Ippolito and Isabella. The royal family passed by her and headed to the balcony seats on the second floor reserved for the royal family. Ariadne bowed her head to the royal family and saluted Leo III, but did not even turn her head in Alfonso’s direction. Alfonso also did not even glance in Ariadne’s direction and just stared straight ahead. Princess Lariesa, who was following one step behind Prince Alfonso, felt a slight sense of discomfort.

'Something... is strange.'

The second daughter of Cardinal de Mare and Prince Alfonso were clearly acquainted. Prince Alfonso had saved Cardinal de Mare’s second daughter from trouble because of Count Cesare at the masked ball. It would be normal for a noble lady who received such help to show her welcome, even if only out of courtesy. 

However, that lady was completely ignoring the Prince as if he were a human made of wood and stone. Furthermore, the affectionate Prince Alfonso would have at least made eye contact even if it was a royal family procession. This was a large mass that was repeated every month, and it was not the kind of place that strictly adhered to protocol. 

However, even Prince Alfonso was calmly looking elsewhere as if such a lady did not exist on earth. Lariesa was not very intelligent, so she could not clearly organize or explain all of this in words. 

However, she definitely felt a woman’s intuition, a cold feeling that did not leave her heart. That feeling did not easily disappear and lingered in her mind for a long time. 

*** 

While there were men who had to pretend not to know Ariadne, there was also a man who pretended to know her. That man was Count Cesare.

“Lady de Mare!”

As the high mass ended and everyone was leaving the main chapel, he went against the flow of people heading for the exit and greeted Ariadne, who was sitting in the front row of the chapel.

“It’s been a long time. As soon as I returned to San Carlo, spring flowers were in full bloom to greet me, and among them, the most beautiful one was Younh Lady!”

Ariadne answered with a slight sneer on her lips. She was dressed in mourning clothes in memory of Lucrezia.

“Do spring flowers bloom black these days?”

Cesare accepted the words without giving in.

“Black tulips, a specialty of Tulear, are this spring’s must-have item.”

He smiled brightly, showing his white teeth. Ariadne couldn't help but giggle.

“You are still the same, Count de Como.”

“Cesare. We agreed to talk.”

Ariadne replied with a frown.

“We decided to call each other by our first names instead of our last names, but we never decided to talk to each other.”

“Oh, you remember that we decided to call each other by our names, but you’re deliberately keeping your distance?”

Count Cesare laughed heartily and criticized Ariadne.

“If you make a promise, you must keep it, Young Lady de Mare.”

He's a persistent man. Ariadne rolled her eyes and sighed deeply as she answered.

“Count Cesare. Is it okay?”

“Hey, it’s cold. It’s cold. Even though you’re being so noisy, you still brought me the gift I gave you.”

He looked at the deerskin gloves she was wearing, then took her left hand and brought it elegantly to his lips. Ariadne was so tempted to shake off the pack, but she didn’t want to make a fuss in front of everyone, so she held back from kissing the back of her hand. But it was only her left hand that stopped her, and her mouth attacked Cesare fiercely.

“I think you got confused because you sent gifts to so many ladies at the same time. This is not a gift from the Count.”

“Ah. Right. What I sent wasn’t a glove, it was an ebony rosary. I sent it back.”

She got caught. This guy did it on purpose. Ariadne froze for a moment, then regained her composure and answered.

“Because I don’t like it. Do I have to accept any gift that Count Cesare sends me?”

Cesare narrowed his eyes and looked at Ariadne.

“There’s no way you wouldn’t like that rosary.”

Ariadne answered coldly.

“I see you have mastered my tastes.”

“I am well versed in the tastes of all women. But this is not the issue.”

Cesare looked Ariadne up and down carefully.

“The young lady is too kind to refuse a gift from someone else.”

'Good.' 

It was a long time since she heard that. At least, it wasn't something she heard often after the return. Ariadne smiled lightly and poked at him.

“Do you not remember the many gifts from Count Cesare that I refused?”

“That was before we became friends. We’ve become quite close since then, haven’t we? We go through hardships together on the hunting grounds, and you save me from danger at the masquerade ball.”

Ariadne laughed in vain. 

We've become close. 

The time when they were really close was long ago. That was when they were close. Compared to that, the hunting grounds and the ball were child's play.

“Please don’t get me wrong. We are not close friends at all.”

“Oh, dear. You’ve changed. You must have returned to your original state after being away for a few months.”

Cesare whetted his appetite.

“You’re the ice girl who blows away the cold air. Let’s become close so that the warm wind blows again. Let’s get to know each other better, Lady de Mare.”

“You called each other by name and even kissed the back of our hands, even though you weren’t even close. So there was a lot of progress today.”

“Not to that extent. I’m still not quite satisfied. But since it’s been a while since I’ve seen you, I’ll be satisfied with this for today.”

He paused for a moment and then blurted out a word.

“Next time we meet, you should be prepared to get really close.”

Ariadne answered in a mocking tone.

“Oh, my. I’m so excited I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Is that dirty talk?”

“Lord Cesare!”

“Just kidding, just kidding!”

They headed toward the exit of the main chapel, giving and receiving. A person sitting on the second-floor balcony was looking down at the backs of Ariadne and Cesare.

It was Prince Alfonso. He stood like a stone statue, watching the couple walking away. And then Grand Duchess Lariesa watched Prince Alfonso with anxious eyes. 

*** 

Count Cesare finished their brief meeting at the high mass and said a word in a carefree manner.

“I’ll send out a partner invitation soon, so get ready.”

It was a story about a royal ball held on the eve of the spring festival. To attend the royal ball, a partner was needed, and Count Cesare was actually an objectively very good partner. There was no excuse to refuse. 

It was true that she had received various help from Count Cesare. Alfonso would be officially bound to the Grand Duchess of Lariesa, so he could not be her partner.

"...Under these circumstances, Count Cesare has requested to be your partner. What should I do? 

- Your Ari, who is in trouble." 

The Prince's answer was firm. 

"Absolutely not." 

After confirming each other's feelings, Alfonso was completely different from before. Compared to her previous appearance of being carefree and gentle, he was stubborn and possessive. It was not just the external self he had shown so far, but his inner sincerity and personality that were revealed.

'But you know...'

You said you were going to the royal ball with the Grand Duchess of Lariesa as your partner, but you told me not to go with Count Cesare.

'That's unfair.'

Ariadne pursed her lips. Alfonso insisted that she would hire one of his knights to escort Ariadne and that she should decline Count Cesare’s request as her partner. 

However, then she would have to explain why she had declined Count Cesare, who was clearly the better choice and partnered with a knight of a Prince she had never met. There was also the burden of having to explain to Alfonso’s knight that Alfonso and Ariadne were secretly in love. Ariadne wrote a reply to Alfonso, saying, “Let’s talk about it later.”

'I won't leave you alone once I see your face.'

*** 

Ariadne was also in her own troubles. She was serious and stressed. But if someone else had seen her, they would have been angry and said that she was worried about her stomach. That someone else was Isabella. 

For the first time in her life, she was in danger of not being able to go to the ball because she didn't have a partner.

“No, no, no!”

Isabella swept away the pile of letters on her desk and threw them on the floor. All Isabella was receiving now were advertising letters. Since the high society returned from Taranto to San Carlo, Isabella had pretended to be a devout servant of God, so she had sent letters to famous nuns and monks to ask about catechisms and good books to read. 

What she got back were piles of letters containing lists of recommended books, recommendations for volunteer work, and requests for donations. These were the only letters that filled Isabella’s desk. 

Usually, Isabella would have received at least a dozen personal letters. About a dozen would have been letters that boldly requested, “I would like to invite Lady Isabella de Mare to this ball,” and three or four would have been letters that lacked the courage to do so, subtly asking about recent events and asking, “What is your schedule around the ball date?” But this time, not a single letter arrived asking Isabella to attend the royal ball.

“Idiots who are hung up on reputation!”

Isabella was irritated. What kind of men could they be, so afraid of what the world would think, so cowardly that they would hide their bodies! Was there really no real man who would save her, who would love her without regard for consequences? 

The only letter that was not in the bundle of religious books catalogs sent from the cathedral was from Ottavio de Contarini. He wrote, “I thought of you, Lady Isabella, when I returned from Taranto to San Carlo,” and asked her to meet him at a social function when the opportunity arose.

“When the opportunity arises!”

Isabella wanted to strangle Ottavio with a towel. The reason Isabella had been able to be friends with Ottavio was because she was close friends with Camelia, Ottavio’s fiancée. They could only meet when Camelia was present and the three or more of them saw each other. But now it was no longer possible.

Isabella and Camelia had become irrevocably estranged. After Isabella was released from confinement, the first thing she did was open the bundle of letters that had been sent to her but that her father had prevented her from reading. There were all sorts of letters. At first, there were letters from people who had only maintained a friendship with Isabella, who wanted to satisfy their base curiosity (“Is the story about the Marquis of Campa true?”), and then there were letters here and there asking about Isabella’s well-being. 

Most of the latter were from the faithful Leticia de Leonati. But not a single letter from Camellia de Castiglione arrived from beginning to end. Isabella had an inkling right away.

'Camellia de Castiglione was not at all curious about the rumors that were spreading about me in connection with the Marquis of Campa.'

She gritted her teeth.

'Or you helped spread that rumor.'

It couldn't have been the former. Even if Camellia had suddenly become silent and decided to shut her ears to the gossip of the social world, not sending Isabella even a single letter of greeting was an unspoken declaration of breaking up relations.

'Cute girl.'

Isabella crumpled the quill in her hand. She would never have an excuse to meet Ottavio again, since she was no longer friends with Camellia. But wait, didn't she have another card she hadn't used yet?

“I didn’t mean to write it like this.”

Isabella took out a piece of paper and began to write in black ink, writing in one stroke. 

“Dear Countess Bartolini, or rather, Sister Clemente. How are you these days? I am so happy that your family is at peace thanks to my sacrifice. Spring has come when new buds sprout and all things stretch. Before new stories boil over, shouldn’t we burn old grudges in a bonfire as part of the spring festival spirit? 

Let’s have tea together sometime soon. Set a date. 

- Sincerely, Isabella de Mare, I hope you are doing well.” 

Countess Bartolini was the real love interest of the Marquis of Campa. And she was also Ottavio de Contarini’s real sister.

“Wouldn’t it be better to hang out with your older sister rather than hanging out with your fiancée?”

Isabella swept under her nose.

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