48.
“I did not sell this dress to a customer, but since you have donned it, I suppose I must consider you one. What compensation do you require?”
The middle-aged noblewoman swept a glance around the room, her eyes gleaming with cunning. She pointed a manicured finger at the display mannequin.
“Those three dresses. It isn’t enough, but I am willing to make a special concession.”
“Hic!”
Juri, who had been holding her breath in the shadows, let out a sound like a stifled scream.
Idre stiffened, her face hardening. “I’m sorry, but that is impossible. I will refund the price you paid for your dress.”
“You clearly do not understand. Do you have any idea who I am?”
The noblewoman’s face flushed the exact shade of her hair.
“That garment is a custom order and belongs to another client,” Idre said, her tone level. “Therefore, I cannot give it to you.”
“Ha, the original owner? I am Countess Soran Atech.”
Idre fought the urge to furrow her brow. She had suspected as much from that distinctive orange hair, but to think it was truly Countess Atech. The woman was infamous in Western high society as a persistent, waking nightmare.
“Countess, I apologize, but a refund is all I can offer.”
“What did you say?” The Countess glared, her eyes narrowing into slits.
“Mother, let us be generous and concede. Just take that one dress.”
A young woman who had been standing silently in the back pretended to be conciliatory, gesturing toward the gold dress with a gloved hand. A triumphant smile played on her lips.
Idre stared at the pair in disbelief. Are they some new variety of con artist?
“I told you, the dress is already reserved.”
“Listen here,” the daughter snapped. “Do you not know who we are? I am Omanda Atech. If I say a single word in high society, this shop will disappear in an instant. Do you understand?”
Like her mother, Omanda’s talent for being an absolute menace was no small feat.
Marin, watching from the periphery, whispered to Juri, “Is that dress mine?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I see.”
Listening to the mother and daughter’s demands, it was clear the other three dresses were merely bait; they had coveted the gold dress from the start. They had no intention of leaving until they secured it. And the Duke was due to arrive at any moment.
Marin stepped behind Idre and whispered softly, “Just give it to them. I will cover the cost.”
Idre turned, looking surprised. “I cannot do that, Lady Marin. I crafted this dress specifically with you in mind.”
“I’ve dealt with their type before. Sending them away quickly is better for everyone’s sanity.”
“What a group of people, devoid of any manners,” the Countess sneered, having caught the women whispering.
Marin swallowed a sigh. She wanted them gone before the Duke arrived.
“I am Marin of the Schventz Viscount Family, Countess.” Marin lifted her skirt and executed a formal bow.
Idre looked at Marin with an expression of quiet realization. She had never truly believed Marin was a commoner to begin with.
“Schventz? Was there a noble by that name? Daughter, have you heard of them?”
“Mother, there are so many low-ranking nobles in the world. Of course I haven’t.” Omanda sneered, her smile sickly sweet.
Marin flicked her skirt to shake off the dust, the movement sharp and precise. She wanted to avoid a scene, but the young lady had ignited a fire in her, and it was burning bright.
“So, why is the daughter of a Viscount suddenlytingting in?”
“Because that dress is mine.”
Omanda’s eyes sparkled with predatory interest as she locked gazes with Marin. “Then you must have heard the entire situation.”
“I have. And since I have no intention of yielding it, please take your refund and leave.”
“What?!” The Countess glared, her face curdling with venom.
“My dress has already been paid for,” Marin said, turning to the shopkeeper. “Idre, how much is that pale pink dress?”
“It is 5 gold.”
“And mine?”
“50 gold.”
Marin caught Idre’s gaze, checking for the truth behind the number. Idre nodded almost imperceptibly. Marin clenched her fists to steady herself; 1 gold was enough to sustain a family of four for an entire month. Fifty gold? That was why Olive hadn’t let her see the price tag—he’d told her not to think about the money.
“Did you hear that?” Marin asked, turning back to the pair. “There is a ten-fold difference. And yet, you still covet this dress?”
The mother and daughter looked momentarily stunned, their expressions vacant, before shifting into rage.
“What an absurd price. No dress is worth that much.”
“Ha! 50 gold in a low-class shop like this?”
“The price has already been settled,” Marin continued, her voice cool. “If you pay the difference of 45 gold, I will grant it to you. Since you are a Countess, surely you are capable of such a payment immediately, are you not?”
Marin tilted her chin up, a relaxed smile on her lips. Retaliating against nightmares with cold, hard currency—it was exhilarating. Money truly was the best defense.
The Countess gnashed her teeth. “Even a low-ranking noble should have received an education. Do you not know how to treat a high-ranking noble?”
Marin and Idre exchanged a look and shook their heads. When money failed, they resorted to the pathetic crutch of status.
I suppose this is why power is a necessity. Even if it was a facade, Marin possessed that power now. She clasped her hands before her chest, feigning helplessness.
“Since you mention noble status, I suppose I should speak on my own.”
The Countess snorted, daring her to continue.
“I am the fiancée of Duke Vines. Will that suffice?”
A sudden, sharp silence descended upon the shop.
Idre clasped her hands together, her eyes shining with emotion. “Lady Marin—no, Lady Schventz. I am so happy for you.”
“Please, keep calling me as you did before,” Marin said. “Though it seems our guests don’t believe me at all.”
“They are simply ignorant of the circumstances.”
As expected, the mother and daughter were wearing mocking sneers. Should I have ‘Duke’s fiancée’ branded on my forehead?
Juri whispered with a look of intense curiosity, “What are the circumstances?”
“Does this mean I no longer have to keep it a secret?” Idre asked Marin, her face beaming.
The Duke had expressed a desire for the engagement rumors to spread. It was time.
“Yes.”
As Marin nodded, Idre stood taller. To think she was designing for the Duke’s fiancée—she felt as though she were floating. She could forgive the nightmare mother and daughter for anything now.
“You both heard that, did you not? This is the dress for the Duke’s fiancée. So—”
“That is a crime of insulting a noble! How dare you casually use the Duke’s name!” the Countess shrieked, finding it all laughable. “We are nobles, too!”
Marin stood her ground. Those who were the most ignorant were always the loudest. She knew the law: the crime of insulting a noble did not apply between peers.
“I will speak to the Duke immediately and have you—”
“It’s loud.”
Thud.
The sound of a cane striking the floor echoed like a gunshot throughout the boutique.
The Countess spun around, ready to berate the intruder, but she froze instantly. Omanda, standing beside her, gasped as her lips parted.
The Duke walked past them, his presence heavy, his gaze dismissive and cold.