Ariadne immediately relayed the new plan to Alfonso. Alfonso generally responded favorably to Ariadne’s story of going to the royal ball with the eldest son of the Marquis Baldessar family.
“Raphael is a close friend of mine! I haven’t seen him in a few years, but he’ll be a good escort. If it’s okay with you, I’ll send a letter to Raphael in advance and explain the situation. What do you think?”
Alfonso seemed anxious about leaving Ariadne with Raphael de Baldessar without explaining the situation. To be honest, one of the knights in the escort squad seemed to be Alfonso’s first choice over Raphael, but Alfonso didn’t necessarily oppose Raphael de Baldessar as her ball partner.
Ariadne wondered if it was because all the reasons she had given were reasonable, or if it was because Alfonso’s nature was to give his woman whatever she wanted.
'Even in my previous life, His Highness Crown Prince Alfonso had allowed my older sister Isabella to do whatever she wanted without question.'
Ariadne thought of the luxurious jewels and dresses that Isabella had bought in her previous life and the countless splendid balls she had thrown. It was never Prince Alfonso’s taste.
'Even in my previous life, His Highness Crown Prince Alfonso had allowed my older sister Isabella to do whatever she wanted without question.'
Ariadne thought of the luxurious jewels and dresses that Isabella had bought in her previous life and the countless splendid balls she had thrown. It was never Prince Alfonso’s taste.
Finding someone new was like discovering a new world, Ariadne thought. Ariadne’s reference point was Cesare in her previous life, but Alfonso reacted completely differently. He was generally more boring, but more affectionate and much more gentle. Of course, Alfonso was not without his stubbornness.
“Don’t hold hands with Baldessar without gloves, and don’t be alone with him for too long, even though he’s your ball partner.”
'Why don't you just assign someone to watch my every move?'
Ariadne grumbled, but she couldn't hide the smile that appeared on her lips. And then the invitation that had made her prepare so thoroughly arrived.
“Miss Ariadne, this is a letter from Count Cesare.”
Ariadne opened the letter.
Ariadne grumbled, but she couldn't hide the smile that appeared on her lips. And then the invitation that had made her prepare so thoroughly arrived.
“Miss Ariadne, this is a letter from Count Cesare.”
Ariadne opened the letter.
“To my debutante, I believe the invitations have all been circulated in the palace by now. Of course, they have also reached the de Mare family. Would you grant me the honor of escorting you to another ball? - Count Cesare.”
It was the call she had been waiting for. Ariadne wrote the excuse she had prepared in advance without hesitation.
Ariadne’s letter was gentler than usual. Not only was it long, but it also included praise for Count Cesare, and it emphasized that it was by no means her fault for refusing him to escort her. However, a refusal was a refusal.
“I am very sorry that I cannot go to the ball with Count Cesare.”
Ariadne shuddered as she wrote this. Even her handwriting became slurred as she tried to say something she did not mean. After that, she listed 101 unfortunate but unavoidable reasons why she could not be with Count Cesare, and then she put her pen down on the desk.
'I've done enough. Well, if this still hurts Count Cesare's feelings, then there's nothing I can do about it.'
She can't be dragged to a ball to please someone. Ariadne handed the mailman a long, drawn-out letter of refusal.
“Make sure to deliver it. Come back quickly before the landlord opens the letter.”
Ariadne was worried that Cesare's temper would be exposed to the servants of the de Mare family.
'I've done enough. Well, if this still hurts Count Cesare's feelings, then there's nothing I can do about it.'
She can't be dragged to a ball to please someone. Ariadne handed the mailman a long, drawn-out letter of refusal.
“Make sure to deliver it. Come back quickly before the landlord opens the letter.”
Ariadne was worried that Cesare's temper would be exposed to the servants of the de Mare family.
***
Indeed, Cesare was not in a good mood after receiving Ariadne's letter.
“Raphael de Baldessar? You are refusing to escort Count Cesare because of him?”
Cesare spun around in his study. Ottavio sprawled out on Cesare's expensive sofa, chuckled.
“No, Count Cesare. Were you pushed aside by the Marquis Baldessar? It seems that Lady de Mare’s tastes are more refined than yours.”
As he watched Cesare, who was captivating the hearts of women with his handsome face like a statue, Ottavio, who had always been secretly losing confidence in his own appearance that was as rough as an ox, seemed to be enjoying the situation in which Cesare was being pushed aside by another man.
“It’s noisy. That’s not it.”
Cesare threw Ariadne's letter to Ottavio.
“Raphael de Baldessar? You are refusing to escort Count Cesare because of him?”
Cesare spun around in his study. Ottavio sprawled out on Cesare's expensive sofa, chuckled.
“No, Count Cesare. Were you pushed aside by the Marquis Baldessar? It seems that Lady de Mare’s tastes are more refined than yours.”
As he watched Cesare, who was captivating the hearts of women with his handsome face like a statue, Ottavio, who had always been secretly losing confidence in his own appearance that was as rough as an ox, seemed to be enjoying the situation in which Cesare was being pushed aside by another man.
“It’s noisy. That’s not it.”
Cesare threw Ariadne's letter to Ottavio.
"At the request of my close friend, Lady Julia de Baldessar..."
Ottavio read the letter briefly and returned it with a slightly deflated face.
“It was going to be fun, but it ended up being boring.”
It wasn't the 'I hate Count Cesare so much, get out' story that Ottavio had expected, but rather the story that the woman had to do a favor for her friend and would postpone it until next time.
"By the way."
People think about what they want to see.
“You shouldn’t take a woman’s rejection like that literally.”
Ottavio, who lacked experience in love but had far more experience being rejected by women than his friend, gave serious advice to Cesare.
“Everyone rejects someone with pretty words. 'You don’t seem like a man to me because you seem like a good older brother. If things don’t work out as a couple, it’ll be hard to see each other as friends. I don’t want to send a good person away like this... I’ve heard it all, and it’s all bullshit.”
Ottavio put his face right in front of Cesare's nose and spoke firmly.
“I just didn’t see you as a man.”
Cesare took off his gloves and tossed them to Ottavio, who was fiddling with them.
"Noisy!"
Ottavio snickered as he was hit squarely in the face with a deerskin glove, and Cesare, feeling that it would only make him look worse if he got angry, suppressed his discomfort and flopped down on the sofa.
“There’s only one week left. Where can I find a new partner?”
“When have you ever worried about something like that? Why don’t you just go ask anyone?”
“I’m saying this because all the good partners are probably already out of the market.”
There was a way to take someone by twisting the wrist of a woman who already had a partner—or the wrist of her male partner—but that would have been fraught with gossip. Of course, Count Cesare didn’t bat an eye at gossip, but it wasn’t the kind of woman he really wanted to go with, and he didn’t want to be the subject of gossip for a makeshift partner.
“Who are you going with?”
“As for me, as always, I am with my fiancée, Miss Camelia de Castiglione.”
Ottavio sighed.
“I sometimes think about this. Is this the end of my youth?”
He dramatically stretched both arms forward.
“Now, will I have no more chance to blossom as a man, and will I be swept away by Miss Camellia’s skirts and dragged around like a dog on a leash by that one woman?”
Cesare hit Ottavio on the back of the head.
“You’re babbling nonsense because you’re full. A man with such a beautiful wife and so much money wouldn’t be worth anything even if you looted the entire San Carlo.”
Camellia de Castiglione was the undisputed beauty of San Carlo before Isabella de Mare made her debut in society. Moreover, the Baron of Castiglione was a new rich man who controlled the capital's textile industry. If you searched the whole country, you could find a woman more beautiful than Camellia, and you could find a father-in-law richer than the Baron of Castiglione. But no woman had both virtues in one body. This was true even without considering the possibility that she would choose Ottavio.
“That’s true.”
Ottavio whetted his appetite.
“But when a person sits down, he wants to lie down. It’s a shame that the prospective father-in-law has money and now he has no power.”
“Well, the Baron of Castiglione’s position is a bit precarious. He’s practically a nouveau riche.”
“It would have been perfect if Camellia had a cardinal brother.”
“Ottavio, come to your senses. If she had, Miss Camellia would have been engaged to you.”
“Cesare!”
Cesare, who had been hit with a punch, chuckled and handed Ottavio a glass of distilled liquor on ice.
“It was going to be fun, but it ended up being boring.”
It wasn't the 'I hate Count Cesare so much, get out' story that Ottavio had expected, but rather the story that the woman had to do a favor for her friend and would postpone it until next time.
"By the way."
People think about what they want to see.
“You shouldn’t take a woman’s rejection like that literally.”
Ottavio, who lacked experience in love but had far more experience being rejected by women than his friend, gave serious advice to Cesare.
“Everyone rejects someone with pretty words. 'You don’t seem like a man to me because you seem like a good older brother. If things don’t work out as a couple, it’ll be hard to see each other as friends. I don’t want to send a good person away like this... I’ve heard it all, and it’s all bullshit.”
Ottavio put his face right in front of Cesare's nose and spoke firmly.
“I just didn’t see you as a man.”
Cesare took off his gloves and tossed them to Ottavio, who was fiddling with them.
"Noisy!"
Ottavio snickered as he was hit squarely in the face with a deerskin glove, and Cesare, feeling that it would only make him look worse if he got angry, suppressed his discomfort and flopped down on the sofa.
“There’s only one week left. Where can I find a new partner?”
“When have you ever worried about something like that? Why don’t you just go ask anyone?”
“I’m saying this because all the good partners are probably already out of the market.”
There was a way to take someone by twisting the wrist of a woman who already had a partner—or the wrist of her male partner—but that would have been fraught with gossip. Of course, Count Cesare didn’t bat an eye at gossip, but it wasn’t the kind of woman he really wanted to go with, and he didn’t want to be the subject of gossip for a makeshift partner.
“Who are you going with?”
“As for me, as always, I am with my fiancée, Miss Camelia de Castiglione.”
Ottavio sighed.
“I sometimes think about this. Is this the end of my youth?”
He dramatically stretched both arms forward.
“Now, will I have no more chance to blossom as a man, and will I be swept away by Miss Camellia’s skirts and dragged around like a dog on a leash by that one woman?”
Cesare hit Ottavio on the back of the head.
“You’re babbling nonsense because you’re full. A man with such a beautiful wife and so much money wouldn’t be worth anything even if you looted the entire San Carlo.”
Camellia de Castiglione was the undisputed beauty of San Carlo before Isabella de Mare made her debut in society. Moreover, the Baron of Castiglione was a new rich man who controlled the capital's textile industry. If you searched the whole country, you could find a woman more beautiful than Camellia, and you could find a father-in-law richer than the Baron of Castiglione. But no woman had both virtues in one body. This was true even without considering the possibility that she would choose Ottavio.
“That’s true.”
Ottavio whetted his appetite.
“But when a person sits down, he wants to lie down. It’s a shame that the prospective father-in-law has money and now he has no power.”
“Well, the Baron of Castiglione’s position is a bit precarious. He’s practically a nouveau riche.”
“It would have been perfect if Camellia had a cardinal brother.”
“Ottavio, come to your senses. If she had, Miss Camellia would have been engaged to you.”
“Cesare!”
Cesare, who had been hit with a punch, chuckled and handed Ottavio a glass of distilled liquor on ice.
***
Ippolito was in an ambiguous position in San Carlo society. Although he was the eldest son of the powerful Cardinal de Mare, the position of a priest was limited to his time and was not hereditary. Ippolito had no separate title to inherit.
As for Ippolito himself, he was a tall man, but not handsome, and although he hung out with a popular crowd, he was not particularly special. He was a young man who did not have the qualifications to be followed around by ladies. He did not get along well with the ladies and had become close friends with them. No lady had ever suggested going to a ball, and whenever he tried to send someone, he was always rejected.
“I appreciate your hospitality, but I will be attending this royal ball with the master of the Count’s family this time... I hope to see you again soon...”
“...I am a little surprised by the sudden proposal... I have a fiancé whom I was engaged to this winter by agreement between our families, so I will be attending this ball with him...”
“Are you stupid, brother?”
Isabella stood next to Ippolito's desk and sneered.
“Did you just send a letter asking to be partners without any prior communication with the other person?”
She smiled as she flipped through the rejection letters.
“It’s obvious that you asked her out because you just need a partner and don’t care about the woman. You should have checked if she has a fiance. Who would accept a partner request like this?”
Ippolito was in a very bad mood.
“Shut your mouth before I hit you.”
“Hey, looking at the date, I saw that you applied to be a partner with Young Lady #2 before you received a reply from Young Lady #1. What would have happened if they both accepted your application? Oh, that can’t be happening, right?”
“...I told you to shut your mouth.”
“If you hit me now, my father will be very happy. ‘Dad, Ippolito, who cooks and eats at home, hit the pretty and kind Isabella! What if I have a scar on my face and can’t get married?’”
"Hey!"
Isabella stopped provoking him only when Ippolito really started growling. She had only vented her anger at what he was doing, and she had not come here to really fight Ippolito.
“Don’t you have a partner? How about going with my friend?”
Ippolito did not forget the provocation from a moment ago.
“Do you have any friends left?”
“Are you stupid, brother?”
Isabella stood next to Ippolito's desk and sneered.
“Did you just send a letter asking to be partners without any prior communication with the other person?”
She smiled as she flipped through the rejection letters.
“It’s obvious that you asked her out because you just need a partner and don’t care about the woman. You should have checked if she has a fiance. Who would accept a partner request like this?”
Ippolito was in a very bad mood.
“Shut your mouth before I hit you.”
“Hey, looking at the date, I saw that you applied to be a partner with Young Lady #2 before you received a reply from Young Lady #1. What would have happened if they both accepted your application? Oh, that can’t be happening, right?”
“...I told you to shut your mouth.”
“If you hit me now, my father will be very happy. ‘Dad, Ippolito, who cooks and eats at home, hit the pretty and kind Isabella! What if I have a scar on my face and can’t get married?’”
"Hey!"
Isabella stopped provoking him only when Ippolito really started growling. She had only vented her anger at what he was doing, and she had not come here to really fight Ippolito.
“Don’t you have a partner? How about going with my friend?”
Ippolito did not forget the provocation from a moment ago.
“Do you have any friends left?”
"This...!"
Isabella barely managed to hold back her harsh words. She threw down the letter she was carrying.
“You’re not going to die eating the woman you want to go with.”
Isabella was about to say, "I can see your rank in the hierarchy when your friends don't even introduce you to their younger sisters or cousins," but she swallowed her words. In fact, she was in a similar position.
“Read the letter.”
The letter was from Countess Leticia de Leonati, who was Isabella's only remaining friend. The content was that her friend, who had originally planned to attend the royal ball with her, had become engaged last week, and so she suddenly had no partner to go with.
“She’s so kind. She’s more than enough for you.”
Even the arrogant Isabella seemed to have raised her opinion of Leticia when she had only one friend left. If it had been her up until now, she would have left Ippolito to sit in a corner without a partner, but she would never have recommended Leticia, whom she looked down on as her maid, as her brother's ball partner.
“Isn’t that the ugly kid? With a square and flat face?”
Ippolito frowned as he read the letter.
“Are you in a position to argue with me now?”
Isabella was furious.
“You can’t get a human woman, so you’re planning on taking a bisque doll with you? Or are you going to find a pretty maid and proudly take her with you?”
Ippolito glared at Isabella at the story of Isabella's maid. Now, the story of Maleta was a sore spot for him. He didn't know where it went wrong, but everything went downhill after he got entangled with that wicked maid, and he eventually lost his mother.
“Stop talking like that.”
Isabella kept her mouth shut when Ippolito showed signs of genuine anger. She was upset, but now was not the time to really fight with her only remaining brother.
“Anyway. Think about it. Just reply by tomorrow.”
She shut her mouth tightly and left the room. As soon as she left Ippolito's room, the postman came looking for her.
“Miss Isabella! You are here. A letter has arrived for you.”
Finally, is it an invitation to a ball?
Isabella took the envelope the servant handed her and looked at its cover.
“What? Who is this from? There’s no name?”
On the outside of the envelope was written in crooked letters, "Isabella de Mare," but there was not a single word about the sender's identity.
“What? Who is this from? There’s no name?”
On the outside of the envelope was written in crooked letters, "Isabella de Mare," but there was not a single word about the sender's identity.
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