Chapter 29
That woman. The one who had latched onto him at the Jockey Club last Saturday, forcing him into a campaign of nonsensical solicitations and subjecting him to a notoriety he had never once desired.
Freya Russell was sitting inside the carriage, waiting for him—as ghost-like as ever.
“Won’t you get in? And close the door, please. If someone sees you like this, it won’t be good for you either, Monsieur.”
Watching her take her seat as if the carriage belonged to her, making demands with such brazen audacity, Asil was so bewildered he was left speechless.
However, as she pointed out, with rumors swirling, if anyone were to see him alone with the Duchess, his position would become precarious.
Gritting his teeth until his jawline sharpened, Asil slammed the carriage door shut. He took a seat across from her and spoke in a low, hushed voice.
“Madam, get out while I’m asking nicely.”
“Are you really going to chase me away without hearing why I went to such lengths to find you?”
He didn’t need to hear the reason. Hadn’t he heard enough of her nonsense until his ears grew sore at the gallery?
“If you’ve come about the amendment bill, I have nothing to say, so leave. Or I shall have you dragged out.”
He expected that if he threatened her, she would once again well up with tears and scramble out of the carriage like last time.
But contrary to his expectations, the woman pressed her lips into a thin line, straightened her back, and met his gaze head-on.
That shift in posture transformed her entirely.
“Monsieur Asil Delaporte.”
The woman whom he had vaguely pitied as being young enough to be his granddaughter was addressing him as if he were her subordinate. He should have felt insulted, yet the moment he heard her calm, steady voice, goosebumps crawled up his arms.
She spoke in a tone as measured as if she were tutoring a child.
“I’ll remind you, since you seem to have forgotten: as long as Grandcen is an Empire and I am a Duchess, you, with merely the status of a Baron, cannot forcibly drag me out of this carriage. If you want me to disappear as quickly as possible, you must listen to the proposal I have prepared.”
Asil stared in astonishment at the woman who was subduing him without once raising her voice.
He had pegged her as a headstrong girl who didn’t know her place. His first impression was that of a woman raised in a velvet cage, lacking both discernment and tact.
But looking into her clear, fathomless eyes, Asil realized that all of it had been a carefully orchestrated deception.
Deliberately allowing herself to be rebuked in front of others, performing that clumsy retreat, and then finding him again in secret—it was all part of the plan.
Though his mind reeled at the turn of events, Asil skillfully steadied his turbulent heart.
*The Duchess may be different from what I expected, but she is still just a young woman.*
The expression vanished from the face of the most influential capitalist in Luthes. He stroked the intricately carved bird-shaped handle of his cane and said coldly.
“Whatever your reason for doing this, it won’t work. If this is about the amendment bill, no matter what you do, I will not help you.”
“No, you will help me. And you will ensure the bill is rejected.”
Asil laughed to himself at her groundless, absurd assertion.
As a member of the Jockey Club, he was part of the new aristocracy who had received his title directly from the Emperor, but he also had to be mindful of the Duke. He had no duty to help the Duchess, and even if he did, he was certain he couldn’t get the 1.5 Sekt bill rejected.
The person pushing that bill was none other than Duke Blanc, who held more power in this empire than anyone but the Emperor himself.
He couldn’t very well tell her that it was her own father-in-law sabotaging her husband’s business.
This time, he spoke to her as if coaxing a child.
“Madam, I don’t know who put you up to this, but you’ve picked the wrong opponent. The 1.5 Sekt bill is beyond my reach. You shouldn’t be coming to me—you should go to Duke Blanc…”
“If it were the 1.5 Sekt bill, perhaps. But that is not what I want.”
The Duchess cut him off. Asil looked at her with a look of disbelief, and her smile deepened.
“If it were the 50 Sekt side, I believe it would be well within your capabilities, wouldn’t it?”
The moment he heard that, tendons bulged in Asil’s hand as he gripped the handle of his cane.
In just a few exchanges, the woman before him had once again overturned his expectations.
Her sloppy conduct at the Jockey Club and her recklessness in bursting in today were plans that anyone could have cooked up. But what the Duchess had just said was different.
*Who told her? Is it Max Russell? Or, God forbid, Erle Tristan?*
Although it didn’t show on his face, Asil’s composed heart was shaking.
He couldn’t know who was behind her, but this young Duchess was attempting a thoroughly calculated, aggressive negotiation.
First, she had let herself be seen with him to plant the impression that she was incompetent. Then, she had approached his unguarded self in secret to create a psychologically isolated situation. By presenting an impossible demand first, only to reveal her true purpose later and pretend to yield, she had steered him into a position where he could not easily refuse.
If it were the 50 Sekt side, it was a bill related to passenger trains among the amendments for the railway project.
As she said, unlike the freight train business that had already established its footing, a bill regarding passenger trains—which had only just begun laying tracks—could be easily withdrawn if he pulled some strings behind the scenes.
Even so, he had no intention of being led around by the nose. Asil loosened his posture, leaned back against the cushions, and asked.
“Who is it? If you want to trade with me, don’t hide behind a woman; tell them to come themselves.”
There was a reason she had insisted on appearing at a racecourse that was practically Duke Blanc’s territory. A lighthouse cannot see its own base, after all.
Asil drew his own conclusion and waited for Erle Tristan to appear.
He must have been watching from not far away. The young head of the family had used his head quite well this time. He felt a secret sense of admiration.
It was then that the young woman’s clear, melodic voice rang out.
“No one is coming, even if you wait.”
Even Asil, who was used to hiding his expressions, could not mask his bewilderment this time.
“What did you just say…”
“It is just you and me here. I am the one trading with you.”
The Duchess, dressed in a maid’s uniform, was looking at him with impeccable poise.
*Am I… under some sort of spell?*
It was a foolish thought, but he couldn’t help it. As the conversation continued, he felt as if he were sinking into a swamp. A sense of unease washed over him like a beast caught in a trap, but Asil took a deep breath and regained his composure.
He had underestimated the Duchess again. This was the third time. A clear mistake. Mistakes must be corrected as quickly as possible to minimize losses.
Asil closed his eyes for a moment, opened them, and nodded.
“Understood. Then let us begin the real trade. Is it the desire of Madam Blanc to have the clause limiting passenger train fares to at least 50 Sekt withdrawn or rejected?”
At last. He had brought the President of Luthes Bank to the negotiating table. Freya tried her best to appear nonchalant and nodded in return.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“As you said, Madam, I believe I can exert some influence if it is the 50 Sekt clause. However, as many interests are intertwined, it carries significant risk. Since you have prepared so thoroughly, you must have a reward to match, haven’t you?”
“Tell me what you want. I have every intention of meeting your demands as much as possible.”
She was a woman backed by the Ducal family, so it was unlikely she was speaking idly. Asil thought for a moment before opening his mouth.
“How about the mining rights owned by the Ducal family?”
“…That might be a little difficult.”
He had expected her to refuse, of course. She was making an unreasonable demand, just as he had. But the proposal that followed surprised him once again.
“The mining rights are already bound by a contract with someone else. Instead, how about I offer you a reward you would never be able to refuse?”
“A reward I… would never be able to refuse?”
Meeting her questioning gaze, Freya pulled up the corners of her lips into a smile, pretending not to be the least bit nervous.
“Monsieur, have you ever heard of that rumor?”