<Episode 546> Another Man from the Government
"What? Casa della Amanti?"
Isabella contorted her face. She was not in such a good place. Her true expression was hideously crumpled.
"Your Majesty. You don't even remember where I am right now, yet you say you will come to my chambers tonight?"
Leo III, whose memory of the facts was hazy, only remembered the exact sequence of events after hearing Isabella's words.
"No, no, that's not it. I told Rubina I would keep you at Casa della Amanti, but she adamantly objected. That is why you ended up in the room you are in now!"
"Ah?"
Anger surged in a corner of Isabella's heart. Oh? Rubina, I thought you were all dead, but you were interfering like this? Taking advantage of the moment her target was briefly diverted, Leo III appealed to his young mistress.
"My love and affection for you has nothing to do with your appearance!"
It was a blatant lie.
"What on earth do you think of me!"
"An old, ugly fool blinded by a young woman." Isabella saw Leo III just as he truly was. However, the King was intoxicated by his own lies. In his mind, he was a romantic. Wasn't that evident just by looking at what he had done to Rubina?
Although they were no longer in a romantic relationship, he had appointed her son as Grand Duke and allowed her to enjoy all the wealth and glory of the Etruscan kingdom. A wonderful man who gave everything, took responsibility, and had a beautiful farewell.
Phew. Having fully justified himself internally, Leo III attempted to justify himself verbally as well.
"Isn't fifteen nights way too long? What on earth are you trying to make with such an enormous outfit?"
In this era, it was commonplace for a single garment to take three months to make, but Leo III had never experienced such a thing. This was because the clothes he desired were already prepared for when they were needed, and if that was not possible due to the King's whims, all the craftsmen from the entire kingdom were summoned and made for four days and nights.
"Are you planning to embroider about 800 bolts of gold thread?"
Isabella scoffed at the ridiculous question.
"I must use the gold coins Your Majesty has given me wisely. I am not a person of extravagance, nor did I order anything excessive."
Since it is clothing to be worn at night, having too much fabric or decoration would only be a hindrance. On the contrary, the clothes she ordered used an extremely small amount of fabric.
"The dress is being delayed, not because of the excessive embroidery, but entirely because of Princess Julia Helena!"
Isabella spread the rumor that the Princess, out of jealousy, had entrusted her clothes to the same dressmaker and paid an express fee to have the dress made as quickly as possible.
"I heard she made an excuse that she had used up all the clothes she brought suitable for a big event by attending the autumn ball, New Year's ball, and so on."
It was an undeniable fact. The stay of the Duchy of Manchike was becoming much longer than they had anticipated. Of the clothes Julia Helena had brought, the only ceremonial dress she had not yet worn was her wedding dress. However, Isabella did not think so.
"They're saying she paid extra because she was jealous that I got the dress first!"
Leo III was not in a position to defend Princess Julia Helena at this moment. If he made even the slightest mistake, his young mistress, whom he had not even laid a finger on, would flee to the estate where her husband was waiting. He deliberately lamented loudly.
"Hah, how extravagant, how extravagant! Unnecessary expenses for such a trivial reason..."
Isabella wiped away her tears. A saint is by nature bound to be persecuted by the blind.
"I merely had absolutely no intention of competing with the Princess, I simply asked for clothes to wear when alone with Your Majesty in a private setting..."
And Leo III, as always, came up with a brilliant trick that cost nothing and was only good for himself.
"Isabella, I will send my messenger to order your request to be processed with the highest priority and express."
"You don't have to do that," the words almost escaped her lips. Isabella gritted her teeth and restrained Leo III
"Everyone is busy, so please don't do that..."
However, Leo III was seized by the thought that he could turn Julia Helena's dress into an express to his first night with Isabella. He called out to his attendants loudly.
"Delpiano! Delpiano!"
Seeing Lord Delpiano rush in in a panic, Isabella quietly rose from her seat. It was no longer a situation where she could stop him.
"Now, what am I supposed to use to postpone sleeping with syphilis?"
Isabella absolutely detested catching diseases. And, she instinctively knew that men are most desperate for women right before falling asleep. She had no other reason than not to sleep with Leo III. Behind her, she heard the desperate shouts of Leo Ill.
"Tell the dressmaker immediately to prioritize Countess Contarini's order! Hurry!"
Isabella felt annoyed at the thought of Sir Delpiano taking that royal order to Taranto's dressmaking shop. She muttered to herself without realizing it.
"Ugh. How embarrassing."
***
Isabella finished her audience with the King as she pleased and left. She hadn't been told she could go back, but what could she do? At most, he would call her back.
She gestured to Barbara with her chin. Barbara scrunched over and stood behind her. Since there was no lady-in-waiting, a maid was taking her place.
Isabella was on her way back to her chambers with dignity. She walked without making a single rustling sound in her clothes. She looked quite courtly. However, a noise interrupted her perfect procession.
Fweet! It was the sound of someone whistling with their fingers. She turned to look at the source of the sound. The source of the whistle was behind a tree in the garden situated in the courtyard next to the corridor. When Isabella did not approach, someone called her name in a low voice.
"Fweeet! Isabella!"
However, Isabella still stood there without moving. After looking down at the bushes for a moment, she soon turned around.
"Let's go, Barbara."
As Isabella began to move, the owner of the sound grew restless. The culprit behind the whistle burst out of the bushes and blocked Isabella's path.
"It's me, Andrea!"
It was Count Di Pascal. Isabella's expression crumpled mercilessly as she recognized his face.
The question was who the sender of the note received a few days ago was. Since the person in question had appeared so prominently, surely the person trying to trap her hadn't been impersonating Di Pascal. The two remaining possibilities were that Di Pascal had collaborated with the person trying to frame her, or that Di Pascal was a complete idiot with such low intelligence that he would stake his life on love. Isabella turned her head to the side to avoid his gaze and replied.
"What brings you here, Count Di Pascal?"
"Isabella, let's talk alone for a moment. It won't take long."
Di Pascal seemed to want to get rid of Barbara. Isabella had not the slightest intention of doing so. Taking Barbara along alone was not enough. To Isabella, her own life was truly precious.
"It seems the Count has two necks?"
"You must be really angry with me."
Although she merely pointed out the facts, Di Pascal naturally continued the variation with a love song.
"I did everything wrong. It's all my fault."
Isabella couldn't even remember what Di Pascal had done. Fortunately, Di Pascal had even made a list of his mistakes and spilled them all.
"I shouldn't have ignored your message back then. I should have replied to that letter. I should have gone to rescue you when you were in trouble with the Bartolini family."
Ah. Now she remembers.
Just before Isabella was imprisoned in the Bartolini family's basement for the attempted murder of Clemente, Di Pascal, who was dating her, began to subtly avoid her. Not only did he not come to see her, but he also did not reply to the letters she sent first. Di Pascal's silence had indeed been the catalyst that led Isabella to impulsively sell her body to the Marquis Ceppinelli. But that is all in the past. In the Bartolini family's dungeon, Isabella never even imagined that Di Pascal would come to rescue her.
Receiving an apology like this felt refreshing. However, he seemed to have been tormented by useless guilt. Di Pascal, who wanted to keep their relationship ongoing, begged desperately.
"It was because Francesca suddenly acted incredibly sensitive back then, as if she had noticed something."
He slumped to his knees in the corridor of the Taranto palace.
"Please, Isabella, forgive me for being cowardly and despicable for not reaching out a helping hand to you!"
Isabella stepped aside and answered. Her voice was dry and cold, like the winter weather of Taranto.
"I didn't even expect it."
She took a step forward. Di Pascal wailed beside her.
"Isabella!"
Her voice was loud. Isabella, scared that someone might see, spoke imitatively.
"Barbara, take Count DiPascal to Countess DiPascal."
"No, no, beautiful Isabella, please..."
He knelt and sobbed.
"Francesca and I are only married in name. Just looking at each other's faces is awful."
Isabella just guessed to herself.
"Ah. So you had a fight with your wife recently. That's why you're lingering around here."
She gave Barbara an order without looking back.
"You handle it yourself."
"Isabella, Isabella!"
Isabella leisurely walked away. Barbara, a voluptuous blonde beauty, regained her true beauty the moment she was far from Isabella. Her excessively yellow hair turned into luscious blonde, her rough, rugged features transformed into a splendid look combining deep eyes and a high nose bridge, and her voluptuous figure appeared glamorous once again.
"Count, you shouldn't be doing this here. I'll escort you."
Barbara helped Count Di Pascal, who was kneeling on the floor, to his feet. However, Di Pascal sobbed and shook off Barbara's support.
While he was acting out this drama, eyes were watching them from afar. It was Baroness Giordini, who was on her way to have an audience with Isabella.
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