22.
“It seems he decided to visit me directly since I rarely go home.”
“Hmm. Even after something like that… she still….”
Max tuned out the Duke’s dissatisfied voice, pondering the implications of what he had just heard.
It was Freya who had insisted on going to the office first. Now, the Duke was harping on about it again. Could it be that there were truly private conversations passing between the two of them that he knew nothing about? Was the palpable tension he had sensed between them moments ago—that feeling of two people testing one another—actually because today was not the first time they had met?
Just as that suspicion took root, the Duke rose from his seat, his displeasure evident.
“Regardless, I hope the child returns without a blemish. I trust you will keep your word until the end.”
It was exactly as it had been fifteen years ago, when the Duke had made Max a fiancé instead of a playmate, and five years ago, when he had granted their marriage. The Duke had always considered him nothing more than a pathetic toy for his daughter.
The woman herself might not have known, but their marriage was merely a game of house, the end of which had been scheduled from the very moment they walked down the aisle.
Max confirmed once more in his mind that the conclusion, as the Duke envisioned it, was drawing near.
Or perhaps… the Duke already knew that Max had made the first move.
Max’s expression darkened as he stepped out of the club’s reception room.
✦ ✦ ✦
Asil Delaporte’s heart nearly stopped when a slender hand tapped him on the shoulder.
“Monsieur Delaporte.”
“……Madam Russell.”
What on earth could the Duke’s only daughter, who had boldly marched into the front entrance of the Jockey Club, possibly want with him?
Watching Asil, who wore the expression of a man who had just run into a highwayman, Freya offered a bewitching smile.
“Since this is my first time at the Jockey Club… if it isn’t too much trouble, would you mind showing me around?”
In an instant, gazes filled with envy, jealousy, curiosity, and inappropriate expectations poured onto them. As if they were merely out for a stroll, Freya hooked her hand onto Asil’s arm and toured the interior.
The heads of the Empire’s most prestigious families, the wealthiest men, and those at the center of power all pretended not to look while straining their ears to catch every word.
There were plenty of spectators.
Freya began in a clear, resonant voice, as if she didn’t care who heard.
“Monsieur Delaporte, you are the owner of Luthes Bank and a serving member of the Senate.”
“That I am, but….”
Asil answered with an instinctively defensive tone, then added, “I am honored that Madam Russell knows of me.”
“You are too modest. They say half the capital circulating in Luthes flows into Luthes Bank. I, of course, have an account there myself.”
“Ha-ha, is that so….” Asil replied with an awkward laugh, beside whom Freya heaved a heavily exaggerated sigh.
“Monsieur Delaporte, I have no one else around me to ask such things.”
In front of the Jockey Club members, the heir to the Blanc title—who had ended rumors of a rift with her father after six months—had a question for the owner of Luthes Bank?
Asil felt his skin prickle under the intensity of the gazes fixed upon him.
Meanwhile, the woman, who was barely older than Asil’s youngest daughter, continued speaking as calmly as if the stares of predators eyeing their prey meant nothing to her.
“My husband seems to have a lot of worries lately. I looked into it personally, and would you believe it… they say something about a railway law being changed?”
At the word *personally*, Asil reflexively recalled the incident involving the Duke’s daughter that had set the Empire ablaze last winter.
Seeing the young lady reveal without hesitation that she had been investigating her husband, Asil took a step back, his expression stiffening.
“Madam, I do not believe it is appropriate to discuss such matters with me.”
He had only maintained his manners out of respect for the Duke, but Asil was a politician with significant influence. He saw no reason to maintain decorum in front of a woman who acted like a wild filly with no sense of propriety.
“Oh my, did I say something offensive? But you are the only one I could think to ask, Monsieur. After all, your eldest son is… my husband’s….”
“Madam.”
Asil cut in quickly before anything more irreversible could escape the lips of this frivolous woman. He figured it would be better to give her the answer she wanted and be done with it.
“So, what was it you wanted to ask?”
“Ah, that is… from what I heard, one will only be able to receive 1.5 Sekt for hauling a ton of coal on a train.”
And the topic he had dreaded came up.
“I heard you can get 4 Sekt if you transport it by ship, so it seems like quite a loss to get only 1.5 Sekt by train, doesn’t it?”
Who in this room didn’t know that? There wasn’t a person in the building who wasn’t aware the bill had been proposed specifically to make it so. The woman before him was likely the only exception.
“I don’t know much about these things, but… I still want to do something for my husband, so I am telling you this.”
Looking directly at Asil with her clear turquoise eyes, Freya asked in a voice that held a hint of desperation.
“Monsieur Delaporte, is there anything you could do to help?”
No matter how one interpreted it, this was a request for lobbying—a plea to withdraw the amendment regarding railway freight rates.
The only difference was that the person saying it had the innocent eyes of a woman who wouldn’t know the first thing about politics, dozens of pairs of eyes were watching them, and there had been no offer of a *quid pro quo* or anything surreptitiously handed over behind the plea.
What on earth was the Duke’s intention in unleashing a woman like this into the club? Asil stared at Freya, feeling utterly stunned.
His son might call her the “Big Blanc” and the “Little Blanc” with utter detestation, but in truth, he didn’t dislike this woman of the Blanc family that much.
Perhaps it was out of pity.
The only daughter of the head of the Royalist faction, unrecognized by her father, unloved by her husband, and pointed at by the people of the Empire. They say that if the house is too tall, the attic remains empty. With a background everyone envied, she was ironically the most miserable woman in the Empire.
Even so, Asil was not a good enough man to feel sympathy for someone who would calmly set such traps in a place watched by so many eyes.
“Madam Russell, if you are looking for help, there should be someone more qualified than me. I trust you haven’t forgotten who your father is. Or is this something you are saying to me because you cannot say it to him?”
“Ah… you are right. My thoughts were shallow.”
Freya’s cheeks flushed red at his biting, mocking remark, and her eyes welled with moisture. Why did the face of his youngest daughter have to overlap with hers in this moment? Asil clicked his tongue inwardly and put more distance between them.
“Madam Russell, the wisest way to handle such matters is to leave them to the men. If you go around saying these things to others, you will only bring trouble upon yourself. Do return to the side of Monsieur Russell.”
It was the best courtesy he could offer. With a discomforted expression, Asil turned away from the downcast Freya and returned to his seat.
“Women.”
A dry laugh rippled through the surrounding men, as if in agreement with someone’s muttered derision. Had this not been a club frequented by the Duke, he surely would have heard much worse, but the insulting atmosphere remained the same.
Feeling increasingly uneasy, Asil had no choice but to leave early, turning down even the horse racing talk he usually loved so much.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Did something happen?”
Having finished his conversation with the Duke, Max immediately sensed the uncomfortable atmosphere lingering among the men. As they left the club, he asked, and Freya replied with an indifferent face.
“Nothing much… the conversation just didn’t go well.”
“I see. That can’t be helped.”
Max nodded without a hint of disappointment. However, Freya’s thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.
“So I’m thinking of going to see him again later.”
“…Why?”
Why, indeed. She had deliberately created a scene in the Jockey Club—a place where her father was a founding member—with Royalist politicians and pro-Royalist figures watching, performing the role of an empty-headed young lady while being openly rejected by the head of Delaporte Bank.
She did it to plant the belief that Asil Delaporte would never join hands with her.
Her plan had gone smoothly; at the very least, there wouldn’t be a soul among those present who would consider the possibility of the Luthes Bank president colluding with her for the time being.
“The place was a bit public today, and my father was there, so maybe it was difficult for him.”
Was it not she who had insisted on coming here to meet Auguste’s father in the first place? If she thought he would be troubled, why go to such lengths to come here?
The suspicions that had been growing little by little since the day he hired someone to follow her had now taken a concrete form through the words of the Duke of Blanc, finally revealing a clear picture.
The moment they climbed into the carriage together, Max grabbed Freya’s arm and asked in a chilling voice.
“Freya Blanc, what on earth are you thinking? Is it the Duke of Blanc? What did you talk about with him? Is it because of the Duke that you are trying to meddle in my business?”