Chapter 59: Gladys’s Plan

Despite surely having a partner, the woman stood alone. Alec gazed down at Gladys as the slow rhythm of the waltz filled the air. The desire glimmering in her blue eyes was dizzyingly vivid.

“My partner disappeared somewhere, leaving me all alone,” Gladys said, pulling her lips into a faint, enigmatic smile. The expression on her pale face made his stomach churn.

The urge to grab her by the hair and slam her to the floor surged within him. He wanted to stomp her mercilessly into the ground and toss her to the dogs. This simmering anger threatened to consume him.

Alec said nothing, simply staring at her. Her dress, with its deep neckline and puffed sleeves below the shoulders, was a dark wine red.

He noted that Lara’s dress had also been a deep red velvet. Its low saturation and weight perfectly complemented her fair complexion.

“Your dress is red,” Alec finally said, breaking the silence as he regarded Gladys, who seemed uneasy waiting for his response. A flicker of joy crossed her face at his words, but Alec felt only disgust. He continued in a mocking tone.

“It’s quite similar to my wife’s.”

From a distance, their outfits looked almost identical. The thick satin wine-red dress and blue sapphire necklace—it couldn’t be a coincidence. Unless she had deliberately copied Lara’s outfit, there was no way their ensembles could be this alike.

Had she planted spies in their household? Were there maids among them acting as her eyes and ears?

“Your Highness must have a fondness for red. This dress was specially ordered by my father for tonight,” Gladys replied with a coy smile, despite sensing his veiled threat.

She didn’t back down, even though Alec had already warned her once. Instead, she drew closer with that same sly smile, scheming to separate him from Lara and force him into a situation where he couldn’t refuse her advances.

What a despicable woman.

The waltz ended, but Lara still hadn’t returned. It was understandable that she might take time changing her dress, but this delay suggested something was amiss.

Alec swallowed his growing anger as Gladys, ignoring his clear signals, refused to step aside.

“Your wife is taking quite some time. My partner hasn’t returned either…”

Leaving a lady alone at a ball was improper, especially for a prince. Passing by a noblewoman without escorting her out of the hall would be a breach of etiquette.

Furthermore, Gladys had cultivated an image of frailty and innocence within high society.

“How utterly pathetic…”

Alec cast a subtle glance around, noticing how she was drawing attention from onlookers. Her deliberate attempt to create a connection with him made his lips curl in disdain.

Despite his inner turmoil, the next waltz began to play.

“Shall we dance?”

Spitting the words as if they were poison, he coldly extended his hand. Gladys flashed a smug smile toward Valeria before placing her hand in his.

---

“Oh my!”

Diane’s startled cry rang out. Lara, who had been hastily removing her dress with the help of a maid in the dressing room, turned around in alarm. Diane, pale and trembling, stared at her.

“Who… who would do such a thing?”

Her voice was on the verge of tears, and the maid untying Lara’s waist ribbon covered her mouth in shock.

Lara stood frozen, staring at the dresses. The seams were ripped, the hems torn—all of them ruined. There was no need to examine each piece; every dress had been shredded and rendered unusable.

“Who could have done this?”

“Lower your voice, madam,” Lara said calmly.

One by one, Diane pulled out the tattered gowns with shaking hands clad in gloves, her face flushed with frustration. Lara joined her in silently inspecting the mess, her expression cold and composed despite the situation.

The dresses, each worth a significant amount, had been intentionally ruined. The seams at the sleeves and the décolleté were torn apart, rendering the garments unwearable without extensive repair work. Some might need to be discarded entirely if they couldn’t be salvaged.

“Oh, Your Grace! Don’t touch that. There’s filth here…”

Diane quickly removed her gloves and stopped Lara’s hand. Who could have done such a thing? Her eyes trembled with fury as she took in the deliberate damage. Foul-smelling grime was smeared all over the dresses, making it impossible to even determine what had been used.

Repairs were out of the question. There were no craftsmen skilled enough to fix such fine fabric, especially satin. Even if an atelier attempted to restore them, it would take as much time and expense as ordering new custom-made dresses. It wasn’t worth the trouble. But the real problem was…

“This was deliberate. Someone, some group, planned this together.”

Diane pushed aside a maid who had been opening the wardrobe in search of other dresses and began inspecting every closet and drawer herself.

Lara, drained of energy, could barely muster the strength to nod. Apart from a few indoor dresses and gloves, everything was in the same ruined state. It seemed clear this had been a calculated attempt to prevent her from attending the ball.

“What do we do now, ma’am?”

The maid, who had even checked the drawers, looked to Diane with teary eyes.

“I’ll fetch a dress from my estate. I’m sure one will fit reasonably well.”

Diane was about to leave the dressing room when Lara grabbed her arm and shook her head.

Diane’s estate was a 20-minute carriage ride away. Fetching a dress would take at least 40 minutes, and there was no guarantee it would fit Lara. Though their figures were similar, Diane was shorter and slightly curvier, while Lara was slimmer. The dress might fit, but it wouldn’t look proper. In that case, wearing an indoor dress seemed a better option.

“It’s probably better to find a suitable indoor dress,” Lara suggested calmly.

“But…”

“I’ve worn them on brief outings before. It’ll be fine.”

Diane’s expression hardened, but Lara began changing into one of the indoor dresses. Though it wasn’t quite appropriate for a ball, it was decent enough.

The dress was a delicate lavender hue with intricate lace decorations, unusually elegant for an indoor outfit. Suppressing her frustration and tears, Lara finished changing.

---

“What did you do to my wife?”

It was the second dance. Gladys looked up at him with a perplexed expression, her cheeks flushed and a seemingly innocent smile on her face. The sight was utterly revolting.

Yet, unbelievably, that smile—serene and naive—was Gladys’s most frequent expression. Many were charmed by the pure, transparent smile that graced her pale face. But Ailrek felt only disgust.

“What are you talking about?”

Gladys asked, her voice carrying an air of confusion. Her face stiffened faintly, as if she were genuinely taken aback.

Her eyes darted around the room, as though mindful of others’ attention, feigning innocence. Alec remained silent, staring down at her.

Sensing his gaze, Gladys pressed her ample chest subtly against his torso, leaning closer. Conveniently, the movements of the waltz required closer contact and intimate gestures, allowing her to exploit the opportunity.

The female partner leaned her chest toward her male counterpart, spinning gracefully in a single motion. It was a dance designed for lovers or those teetering on the edge of romance, offering a chance for subtle tension, playful glances, and gentle seduction.

Alec, however, had no desire to share this dance with this woman. He had wanted to reserve it for his wife. Every point of contact with her skin made his own crawl. Clenching his lips, he stifled the nausea rising within him.

Gladys fixed him with a sultry smile, grinding her hips subtly against his chest. While the movement was part of the dance, her intent was unmistakable.

No noblewoman performing this dance would dare to behave so vulgarly—pressing her hips against a man like some mating animal. The crude display made him want to laugh in derision, though he felt more disgust than amusement. He glared at Gladys with an expressionless face.

Memories of his past life, a life he wished to forget, suddenly surfaced. One of the reasons he had always found Gladys revolting was her overt and shameless displays of affection.

Her lack of modesty, the blatant hunger that glimmered in her blue eyes, and her increasingly cloying flirtation as time passed—these had always sparked his anger.

Had she, like other consorts, at least tried to conceal her desires, he might not have dismissed her so harshly. But Gladys, lacking restraint or subtlety, had become intolerable in his eyes.

“Your Grace.”

Her voice was syrupy sweet, dripping with a seduction so thick it reminded him of someone whispering from a bedchamber. The sickly sweet scent of her perfume mingled with her breath as it brushed against his chin.

Alec grimaced, his face twisting with disdain, and seized her wrist in a tight grip. Gladys let out a soft gasp of pain but quickly broke into a small, delighted laugh.

Feeling a surge of irritation, Alec followed her gaze. Gladys’s free hand drifted across his chest, moving slowly, deliberately.

“Lara…”

His wife stood at a distance, staring at him in stunned silence. Her face was pale and rigid, her tightly closed lips trembling. Suddenly, one of the women dancing nearby “accidentally” bumped into Gladys with a murmured, “Oh, I’m so sorry,” pushing her toward Alec.

Gladys stumbled in his direction, though the bump was hardly strong enough to cause such a reaction. She fell against him, but Alec pushed her away with a rough shove.

“Ah!”

Gladys cried out as she tumbled to the ground. Lara, startled, quickly averted her gaze and left the ballroom.

Alec started toward her, but Lara disappeared into the crowd, her figure swallowed by the throng.

---

“What do you usually do on your days off? Lady Lisa mentioned that you have a great fondness for hunting,” Juliana said, blushing as she tried to make conversation with Lawrence. He only responded with a faint smile, prompting her to continue.

“But, well, there aren’t any proper hunting grounds near the Marquis of Heslow’s estate… Oh, but of course, this is the city, so it’s natural there wouldn’t be hunting grounds! What I mean is… if, if you’re interested, perhaps you’d consider attending the hunting festival in Lombard?”

Lombard was a resort area where the Belzenoir family had a villa.

It wasn’t far from Dranberk, so most aristocrats from Dranberk—and indeed, any prominent figures in the empire—had villas there. Lawrence certainly didn’t need Julia Plafins’s invitation, as the Marquis of Heslow, ever a lover of leisure, also owned a villa there.

“M-Mr. Hamizel?”

“Yes, Miss Plafins. If you were to invite me, I’d be happy to attend,” Lawrence replied, looking down at the young woman with her flushed cheeks.

Juliana Plafins was Gladys de Belzenoir’s cousin. However, unlike Gladys, who had grown up in wealth, Juliana’s family had gone bankrupt shortly after she turned one and had lived in poverty ever since.

Though her uncle, the Earl of Belzenoir, occasionally provided financial support, it wasn’t enough to escape a life of hardship. To survive, Julia had been forced to become the mistress of an elderly marquis.

Perhaps the Earl might have helped her avoid such a disgrace, but he seemed utterly indifferent to her life and circumstances.

“The music is lovely, don’t you think? Do you enjoy dancing, Mr. Hamizel?” Julia asked, smiling. The innocent expression on her face, mixed with her obvious longing, struck Lawrence as both pitiable and faintly absurd.