Chapter 46: The Marquis of Heslow’s Banquet

Valerie had asked. Their father, upon hearing that the prince was moving toward Dranberg, had sent his three children there. His intent was clear—he wanted them to discern the prince’s motives.

If the prince intended to challenge for imperial power, Oppreesé would have to become his vassal lord. Not just his greatest ally and father-in-law, but also the maternal grandfather of the next imperial heir. Yet, instead of heading to Heidelbern or Travis, the prince chose Dranberg.

He avoided meeting with any central nobles who could serve as potential allies. Instead, he sought out businessmen from Dranberg, a region often dismissed as remote, and moderate republicans like the Marquis of Hesslow. It was a baffling move.

“If he doesn’t become emperor, the prince won’t survive, Edwid.”

“Then why did he come here with her?”

At Edwid’s response, Valerie’s eyebrow twitched again. It was a subtle movement, but Edwid didn’t miss it. Unlike Valerie, who often toyed with others’ emotions, Edwid refrained from teasing her.

“Fallen for the handsome prince, have you? Turns out you’re just like any other woman.” Such a jibe would be typical of Gillian, not Edwid.

“Speaking of Gillian, where is he?”

As Valerie sipped her champagne, she turned her head. Gillian was a year older than Edwid, the eldest son of the Marquis Oppreesé, and the siblings’ perpetual source of trouble. It was anyone’s guess what mischief he was up to now.

Perhaps he was harassing a hapless maid or flirting with a noblewoman. If he were a complete wastrel, he wouldn’t even be included in their entourage.

Though the eldest and far from the youngest, Gillian’s erratic behavior couldn’t be dismissed outright. As much as he was their mother’s weak spot, he was also an embarrassment to their household.

“Call a servant—”

Edwid sighed and began to speak, but he was interrupted by the sound of a commotion in the hallway. Moments later, a maid stumbled into view, struggling under the weight of a man slumped on her shoulder.

“Ah, there you all are.”

Though he wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t walk on his own, Gillian clung to the maid as if he were completely inebriated. He greeted Valerie and Edwid with a carefree grin. Valerie frowned in disgust, and Gillian burst into laughter.

Then, suddenly, he shouted toward Edwid.

“I saw her, Edwid!”

“What?”

Edwid’s expression turned incredulous as he demanded clarification. Gillian, who had been half-leaning on the maid and groping her absentmindedly, straightened up as if nothing had happened.

“The girl, I mean. Our little puppy.”

---

The Marquis of Hesslow’s banquet dragged on late into the night. By the time Lara collapsed, unable to endure any longer, she didn’t return to the banquet but instead fell asleep.

When she awoke, Alec insisted that they return home immediately, but Lara shook her head. While she could leave alone, it would be improper for both of them to vacate their positions. The banquet still had two days remaining, and they needed to stay at least through the following day for Alec’s reputation to remain intact.

Alec gazed at Lara with darkened eyes, his expression unreadable as she firmly refused. They avoided conversations about how much they each remembered or why they had been brought back to this point in time.

They both undoubtedly remembered everything, yet they also knew they might never understand why they had been sent back. Or perhaps, unlike Lara, Alec believed in an entirely different reason. That must be why he spoke of starting over.

The Next Morning

Despite Eilec’s attempts to dissuade her, Lara firmly shook her head, dressed impeccably, and went for a walk in the garden. The noblewomen were likely gathered in small groups, chatting about the ball that would take place that evening.

With her senses fully alert, Lara strolled through the garden. Suddenly, someone greeted her. Lara recognized the woman introducing herself immediately.

“My name is Gladys de Belzenoir.”

Wasn’t she a cousin of the woman the Marquis of Hesslow kept as his mistress? Lara wasn’t even surprised anymore. She returned the greeting with a soft smile, speaking with poise. The etiquette she had painfully mastered during her previous life as empress served her well.

Lara gazed at the woman who had been her husband’s second lover. Since the world refused to acknowledge Lara as the emperor’s wife, Gladys could be considered his second wife instead. The nobility didn’t view their union as a legitimate marriage.

At the time of Lara’s entry into Travis alongside Alec, she was still a slave. Slaves could never become empresses. Even when Alec ascended to the throne, Lara was not acknowledged as his wife. But that truth no longer saddened her.

She no longer cared to be recognized as Alec’s wife. In fact, she wanted to deny the marriage herself, regardless of the world’s denial.

Then again, there wasn’t a marriage to deny in the first place. The lord governing the estate of Lorant had never issued a marriage certificate. They had lived together as an unmarried man and woman.

Their honeymoon in the cabin was merely cohabitation, and Lara had carried a child out of wedlock. Given all this, how could she reason with a man who spoke nonsense about “starting over” as though nothing had happened?

Lara didn’t even bother to respond.

The banquet hosted at the Marquis of Hesslow’s estate would continue for three more days. The nobles spent their time leisurely, holding private gatherings in the luxurious mansion.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Belzenoir. I’m Afrosa Katlyn,” Lara introduced herself.

Gladys was momentarily startled upon hearing Lara’s name, but she quickly composed herself, pulling her lips into a smile. Her striking and exotic features formed a smile so captivating it bordered on enchanting. To anyone unfamiliar with her, it would seem impossible to discern her true intentions.

But Lara knew Gladys far too well.

Gladys loved Alec. As a woman. As a wife. She was also the type of woman who shamelessly committed all sorts of underhanded acts to gain even a fraction of the attention Lara received.

Her hatred and animosity toward Lara, greater even than that of Valérie—who wielded real power and handled all external affairs as the acting empress—stemmed from her love for Alec.

Gladys was a woman who desired love more than power. Then again, all of Alec’s women truly loved him. Even Lara, as a rival, could feel their overwhelming affection. It was evident in their gazes, which couldn’t conceal their love for him. And now, Lara pitied them.

“I wanted to meet you last night, but I heard you left abruptly due to feeling unwell. Are you feeling better now?” Gladys asked with her beautiful smile.

She wore a peach-colored dress adorned with elaborate lace and puffed sleeves that highlighted her slender arms beneath her elegant white shoulders. Gladys looked more stunning than any woman in the mansion, even Valérie, who was praised as the most perfect lady in society.

Thinking back to the time when she had to share her title as Alec’s wife with women like this filled Lara with stifling frustration. But she pressed her lips together to suppress her emotions.

“Thanks to your concern, I’m feeling much better. I was regretful not to meet you last night, but I’m delighted to see you today on such a lovely day,” Lara replied in a clear, composed voice, free of any shadows.

She had spent decades in the imperial palace, enduring hardships that Gladys could not even begin to fathom. As the woman by the emperor’s side, Lara had suffered endless torment, criticized relentlessly for her title as the emperor’s first wife.

Even daughters of the most prestigious families had failed to ascend to the rank of first empress. Yet, as the emperor’s first wife, Lara had been scrutinized from head to toe, gradually learning the rigorous decorum required for the role.

Everything she had learned in the cutthroat world of the aristocracy had been burned into her memory. Perhaps some lessons were so harsh they remained even after death.

Not even the claws of an arrogant alley cat like Gladys could faze her now.

“I heard you’re expecting a child. Could that be the reason for your sudden departure?” Gladys asked.

Julia Flapins, a cousin of Gladys whom Lara had met the evening before, asked a question.

The woman, who had seemed so proud and aloof, appeared softer and more docile standing next to Gladys.

Though her features resembled Gladys’, her beauty didn’t quite measure up. Lara wondered if her question had been asked with intent or if it was simply an innocent inquiry. But before Lara could figure it out…

“Oh my, you’re expecting a child,” Julia exclaimed.

“Yes, Miss Belzenoir. She’s pregnant,” Gladys interjected smoothly.

Gladys drew her lips into a smile and gazed at Lara with subtle eyes before spinning the white silk parasol in her hand and lowering her gaze. The young noblewomen who stood silently around her seemed to watch her every move as though awaiting a cue.

After elegantly lowering her eyes, Gladys turned and gave a slight smile to the young women behind her, as if signaling them. Lara recognized that signal. It was an unspoken rule.

Whenever Gladys appeared with her maids encircling her like an escort, there was always a deliberate motion like that.

Lara wasn’t surprised. She had never believed that the Gladys of this life would be any different from the Gladys of her past. No matter when or where they clashed, their entanglement would always take on this ugly form.

“But tell me, Lady Katlyn, is Katlyn your maiden name? I’ve never heard of such a name. It’s not your husband’s surname, is it? After all, your husband is a Roinecaster,” asked a petite woman standing beside Gladys.

Lara was reminded of Lady Rosabeth’s brief expression of unease upon hearing her introduction a few days ago. She pressed her lips together tightly.

If Lara were truly the prince’s consort, no one would call her “Lady.” They would address her as “Her Highness, the Princess Consort” wherever she went.

But here she was, “Lady Katlyn.” A title using her maiden name, not even as “Miss Katlyn,” but “Lady Catlin.”

She regretted the mistake she had made when she carelessly introduced herself before regaining her memories of her past life. Yet, there was no other name to introduce herself with now.

She couldn’t attach the imperial family’s surname, Roinecaster, to her title. How long would it take for her relationship with Alec to be exposed among these people?

Her blood ran cold. A knot of tension coiled in her stomach. Her heart began to race, and heat crept up her body. Lara bit her lips. She thought she had changed so much, but realizing her foolishness made her want to disappear.

“It’s my maiden name,” she replied curtly.

“Ah, as I thought.”

The woman smirked at Lara’s short answer, her small lips curling up in a way that ignited a fire in Lara’s chest. As if to drive the nail deeper, Gladys laughed out loud.

If Lara asked why Gladys was laughing, she would only appear as a ridiculous fool. It wasn’t the first or second time she had experienced this. Yet, her face burned hot, and her mind spun.

What was the problem? Were they mocking her now? Even the act of letting anger boil over and explode was undignified.

Even if Lara calmly countered their remarks and explained her circumstances, the fact that she couldn’t use the imperial surname, Roinecaster, was a glaring weakness. More precisely, it wasn’t that she chose not to use it; she couldn’t. To argue would only be a mistake.

This wasn’t a crowd that would accept an explanation, nor was this the situation to attempt one. If she reacted defensively to an obvious weakness, it would only highlight her vulnerability.

So Lara stayed silent.

“Will the baby take your surname as well, Lady Katlyn?”

The red-haired, tall woman standing beside the one who had asked about the Catlin name posed the next question. Lara couldn’t tell what their goal was, but it was clear they sought to strike at her.

At that moment, Gladys lowered her gaze briefly, as if lost in thought, at the mention of Lara’s pregnancy. It was a revealing moment, suggesting the root of Gladys’s jealousy. When, Lara wondered, had Gladys begun to desire Alec?

But in the end, it didn’t matter. Even if Lara had once held the heart of the man Gladys loved, she had always been too insignificant to scratch Gladys’s surface.

The love they had shared in their youth was worthless in the world Gladys now inhabited. Lara had learned that truth through her past life.

“The baby will, of course, take the father’s surname, Miss Grenzen,” a low voice interjected.

It was unfamiliar to Lara. She turned her head toward the source of the sound.

There stood Laurence Hamizel, as polished and elegant as ever. With his bright blonde hair tied back as neatly as Gladys’s, he held a pipe in one hand.