Chapter 32.
“If you head over that way, the butler will pour you the drink you desire.”
“Thank you for letting me know.”
Cedric offered a slight bow to his acquaintances and stepped away. Once they understood the reason for his departure, they waved him off with lighthearted encouragement. He headed toward the terrace, his heart surprisingly light.
That Julian Faith—drunk enough to flush his cheeks a deep crimson—would cross his path, or that he would end up eavesdropping on a conversation between him and Harriet, was neither expected nor intended.
As he listened, he found it absurd. Julian Faith, posturing as a fiancé simply because of a few exchanged letters; and Harriet, who had penned those letters under the guise of her cousin just because she harbored a penchant for such a man—neither was playing with a full deck.
He found the entire display of cheap, petty melodrama irritating.
‘But why am I even listening to this?’
A sudden doubt struck him, and he belatedly came to his senses. He wondered why on earth he had come all this way, hunting for a woman he merely suspected to be Harriet.
‘I must have half-lost my mind because the party was so tedious.’
He mocked himself and was about to turn away, but that was when Julian stepped aggressively toward Harriet. Even at a glance, it looked as though he meant to do her harm, and Cedric found he had no choice but to intervene.
Julian, who had stuttered and fled, was cowardly enough to make any man feel embarrassed on his behalf.
And Harriet…
‘They said she had become prettier, and indeed.’
She was no longer wearing an ill-fitting, childish dress with garish makeup, nor was she draped in the tattered monk’s robes of a pauper.
With smooth, ivory skin, large hazel eyes, stubborn-looking dark brown brows, a pert nose, and lips as red and plump as if stained with pomegranate juice…
He had never considered her ugly, but polished by the wealth of the House of Felon, she was undeniably a striking beauty.
Above all, even after nearly being subjected to something terrible, her eyes were not in the least bit intimidated. That gaze, defiant enough to be called insolent, commanded his attention.
‘She’s changed. She’s completely different from the girl at the victory banquet.’
The shabby woman who had looked as though she were holding back tears of frustration now seemed to fear nothing—perhaps, as she herself had claimed, because she had received some blessing from Yawar.
“To be precise, perhaps you don’t know anything about me, Duke?”
When Harriet spat that out, Cedric realized why he had followed the hem of that green dress all the way to the terrace.
‘Yes, I know nothing. That is the rather interesting part.’
He had never been one to suffer from drastic mood swings, but since the Kifren War ended, he hadn’t found anything interesting at all. His days had been filled only with the gray residue of loss, betrayal, vengeance, and boredom.
Yet, in this dull existence where every event unfolded exactly as predicted, only the matters concerning Harriet Listerwell showed a strangely unpredictable trajectory.
That she had ended up in a convent for a year, that John Listerwell had rescinded his guardianship, that she had lived in obscurity performing menial labor, that she had rejected his offer of sponsorship, and that she had returned to high society under Trisha’s wing—all of it defied his expectations.
And the path she took, diverging from his predictions at every turn, piqued his interest.
Leaning against the railing, Cedric stared intently in the direction Harriet had disappeared, then let out a soft laugh.
‘The exploration of the unknown is always intriguing.’
It was unlike him. But then again, didn’t people commit even crazier acts for the sake of mere entertainment?
Cedric signaled to a man smoking nearby. The man naturally extinguished his cigarette, glanced around cautiously, and approached quietly.
“Find out about the House of Listerwell. Including Harriet Listerwell’s scandals.”
At Cedric’s command, the man vanished into the banquet hall without a word. Before long, he would receive a significant amount of information. Purely for the sake of satisfying his curiosity and finding some amusement.
* * *
“What in the world is going on, what in the world!”
John felt so flustered he was nearly losing his mind.
He had been scouring detective agencies to track Harriet down, only to learn she had attended the Vanderbilt party—a gathering to which he hadn’t even been invited. And she had done so with Trisha Felon as her chaperone, no less!
“That she has a chaperone is absurd enough, but that that fastidious old woman is her new guardian? That makes no sense!”
It was fortunate he had found her whereabouts without spending a penny, but to have her sign the land transfer documents for Perillas, he would inevitably need the confirmation of her new guardian, Trisha.
‘That old woman is too sharp. There’s no way she’d hand over land she could swallow for herself.’
The headache-inducing problems didn’t end there. What if Harriet, backed by Trisha, went around spreading rumors about Bella?
‘The engagement with the House of Cheslow is right around the corner; I can’t let her ruin that!’
It wouldn’t be difficult to dismiss Harriet’s words as lies, claiming she was merely retaliating for the loss of her status. However, the House of Cheslow—having already endured cold stares for breaking off their engagement with the House of Laurel—would certainly demand that this engagement proceed without any noise.
“Damn it!”
John, pacing the room in agitation, bit out a curse, grabbed his jacket, and rushed down to the first floor.
“Terry! Terry, where are you!”
As he barked for the coachman, the butler hurried over.
“Terry is tending to the horses, sir. Are you going out?”
“If I weren’t going out, why would I be looking for him? Tell him to prepare the carriage, quickly!”
At his impatient prodding, the butler hurried to the stables. Soon, the coachman, who had worked for the House of Listerwell for many years, pulled the carriage to the door.
“Where shall I take you, sir?”
“To the Felon Estate!”
At John’s irritated reply, the coachman whipped the horses into motion. He remembered the Felon Estate well, though he hadn’t visited it in years.
‘Since the Viscount is going alone, he’ll be out quickly, but I’ll feel awkward waiting the whole time.’
Terry the coachman flicked the reins with an indifferent expression. The House of Felon treated people very differently depending on their standing. They would drive away a common solicitor before he could even finish a cup of tea.
When Arthur’s family had visited, even he, the coachman, had been welcomed… that memory, now so distant, was as faint as a dream.
* * *
“My lady. This is sudden, but Viscount Listerwell is here to visit. He says he would like to see you, if only for a moment.”
Trisha, who had been drinking tea while observing the well-manicured garden from the shade of the terrace, let out a soft laugh at the news that John had arrived without a prior appointment.
She rose slowly and nodded as she walked toward the couch in the drawing room.
“Bring him in. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
Once permission was granted, John entered shortly after, clutching a flamboyant bouquet of flowers.
“Aunt! Have you been well?”
“Welcome, John. What’s all this you’ve brought?”
John gave Trisha, who was reclining against the couch, a light hug and carefully placed the large bouquet on her tea table. A maid soon brought tea for John as well, and the two, who had not seen each other for a long time, exchanged stiff pleasantries.
“Well, now that the formalities are out of the way, let’s talk about what you really want to say. To come so urgently without contacting me first, it must be a vital matter.”
“Ah, that is…”
“I suppose it must be about Harriet. Isn’t that right?”
As Trisha spoke as if she already knew everything, there was no need for John to beat around the bush. He let out a low sigh and furrowed his brows.
“I came because I was worried. I heard you have become that child’s guardian, Aunt?”
“Yes. I have.”
“Aunt, I don’t know what kind of sweet talk she used to buy your sympathy, but everything that child says is a lie. She is a girl who makes it a habit to lie to a pathological degree.”
At those words, Trisha arched an eyebrow. John leaned in closer, desperate to persuade her.
“You must believe me, as I lived with her for nearly ten years. I endured her all this time out of loyalty to my brother, but with my daughter’s wedding approaching, I simply couldn’t bear it any longer.”
“Is that so?”
“Since she was young, Harriet was jealous of Bella. She seemed to want to be like her, always clinging to her friends, and for the last few years, she has even been impersonating my daughter to lure men in. You can’t imagine how maddening it is.”
He continued his whining, pounding on his chest for effect.