The King stayed at the Margrave’s estate for only four days. Though it was not as grand as the royal palace, Robert poured his heart and soul into hosting his two distinguished guests. From the bedding to the meals and the entertainment, not a single detail escaped Robert’s personal touch.
Perhaps that effort paid off; the King did not utter a single complaint for three days, and Princess Harold gradually grew fond of the castle. In truth, the primary reason she began to adapt to and cherish a castle smaller than her own was not the lavish treatment, but the lord of the estate himself.
"This place is more wonderful than I imagined, Lord Russell. I can hardly believe I have to leave tomorrow."
"I am relieved to hear that you have been comfortable."
"Comfortable? I have been more than that. My father was quite satisfied as well. It is a pity he drank too much and retired early. I am not sure if we will be able to depart early tomorrow."
"Fortunately, the wine here leaves no hangover. I hope the weather is clear tomorrow morning."
Curtis, ignoring her subtle hint, raised his glass. After attending to the King all morning, he had to entertain the Princess as the lord of the estate every evening. He had grown weary of counting the days until this father and daughter would finally leave. By tomorrow morning, it would all be over—the grand banquets and the constant entertaining.
Unaware of his thoughts, Harold smiled shyly.
"I hope this is not an intrusive question, but you are at an age where you would typically be married with young children. May I ask why you remain a bachelor?"
Instead of answering, Curtis wore a subtle expression. Harold glanced somewhere and quickly added.
"I mean a formal wife, of course."
Following Harold’s gaze, his gray eyes landed on a woman. Roxana, dressed neatly, was enjoying the banquet beside Frey. She was a woman who had not batted an eye or pretended not to notice, even when the Princess had openly kept her in check for three days, or when she had provocatively linked her arm with his and acted intimate.
"Lord Russell?"
Curtis, who had been staring at one spot, finally managed to lift the corners of his mouth.
"I have no such thoughts yet. And I doubt there is any lady who would willingly come to a place like this."
"Are you sure about that?"
Harold smiled coyly and placed her hand on the back of his. As she made her subtle advance, many eyes began to flicker toward the two of them. Curtis donned a thin mask over his face. Emboldened by the alcohol and his smile, Harold took a step closer.
"If you put in just a little effort, there would be many ladies who would want to come here. Even if it is a bit barren, everyone wants a young, handsome, and capable husband."
"I am grateful that you see me that way."
He did not brush off her advances, but he did not respond to them either. As Curtis slid his hand away, Harold bit her lower lip. Not a single man had ever rejected her before. She possessed a noble status, a beautiful face, and a charming demeanor.
She had everything men desired. She took what she wanted without hesitation, and when she grew bored, she discarded it just as readily. She had impulsively followed along on this regional tour because she was bored with the young men frequenting the royal palace, and there, she had discovered the man before her.
"It is an honor to meet you, Princess Harold."
His appearance, which caught her eye at first glance, his tall stature, his broad, masculine shoulders, and his imposing chest—above all, a charm that could not be easily defined had captivated her. He acted kind and polite, yet he was like a wall, allowing nothing beyond that. At first, she thought he rejected her because he had a mistress, but seeing them now, they did not seem particularly affectionate toward each other. She was a bit puzzled, but it did not matter. It meant there was a possibility for her.
Having finished her calculations, Harold touched her forehead and closed her eyes.
"Ah. I think I have had too much to drink. I feel a bit dizzy."
"Your Highness!"
A lady-in-waiting approached and grabbed Harold’s shoulder.
"You have a low tolerance for alcohol; why did you drink so much?"
"I was in such a good mood that I didn't realize it."
"Shall we go to your room? I will assist you."
"No. I don't want to go in just yet."
Harold laughed softly and asked Curtis.
"If you don't mind, would you accompany me to get some fresh air outside?"
* * *
"Roxana, you must not lose to that fox of a princess."
Frey, who had been downing wine continuously, kept urging her. Roxana quietly cleared the wine glass from in front of Frey.
"You’ve had too much, just like last time, Frey. Go inside and get some sleep now."
Roxana gestured to Olivia, who was standing at a distance, and had her assist Frey.
"I think you are the perfect person to stand by my brother’s side. Don't you?"
"I know. I understand, so please just go inside and sleep. Olivia, I will help you."
"Thank you."
Roxana, who had gently stroked Frey’s back, helped Olivia move her to her room.
Only after laying Frey down on the bed and changing her clothes did Roxana catch her breath. After tidying the hair of the soundly sleeping Frey, Roxana called out to Olivia, who was pulling up the blanket.
"Olivia."
"Yes?"
"Alice and Kesi must be very disappointed in me, right?"
"……."
Instead of answering, Olivia lowered her eyes. A trace of self-mockery flickered across Roxana’s lips as she read that gaze as an affirmation.
"They must regret having been friends with me, not knowing I was this kind of woman."
Outwardly, no one could treat her carelessly, but by social standards, a "mistress"—even if it were the King’s mistress—was generally looked down upon. For instance, it was said that Viscount Derek Otis, though born as the King’s eldest son, was openly scorned because his biological mother was a mistress of low status. Anything outside of a marriage sanctioned by God was considered dirty and shameful.
Of course, not everyone held a negative view. Some believed it was better to be the mistress of a wealthy lord than to be the wife of a poor farmer. But Roxana was not one of those people.
She had never thought about marrying anyone, but becoming a mistress? And to be none other than Curtis’s mistress was something that had never been in her future.
The people of the castle would bow to her when they saw her, but not one of them would talk to her or greet her first as they used to. Even though she thought it was inevitable, her heart ached.
"I... I don't really know about the other girls' feelings. They don't tell me things like that."
Olivia replied cautiously, hesitating for a moment at the sight of Roxana’s sorrowful face.
"I see... I suppose so. I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."
"For now, I..."
As Roxana swallowed the bitter lump in her throat and stood up, Olivia gathered her courage.
"For now, I don't think you are a bad person, Roxana... no, Miss."
"……."
"When we first met, you were more worried about me than you were about Miss Frey, who was your superior and the mistress you served. I was so surprised and grateful back then... A person like that cannot be a bad person. That is what I think."
The hesitant words became firmer and more certain as she continued. After a moment of wide-eyed surprise, Roxana, whose nose began to sting, smiled faintly.
"Thank you, Olivia."
"I am sorry I could not be of more help..."
"No. That was help enough."
This was no time to be dejected. Although she could not sit at the head table, she was, for all intents and purposes, the mistress of this castle. She had to return to the banquet, check how much more wine and food were needed, provide dinner for the performers, and assist Robert.
* * *
Roxana wiped her face and headed straight for the Grand Hall. As she was heading toward the backyard and had just finished descending the stairs, she ran into two people. As she was about to brush past them, Roxana hurriedly called them to a stop.
"……Alice, Kesi. Wait a moment."
The two, who had been about to pass by quickly after a bow, stopped in their tracks, startled by Roxana’s voice. Roxana spoke candidly to them as they turned around.
"You must hate the sight of me."
"……."
"I told you I would never have that kind of relationship with the Lord, and then I went and stabbed you in the back. You must hate that we were once friends. I understand. I just..."
The alcohol fueled her courage. Roxana continued, meeting the two pairs of eyes that were watching her in silence.
"I wanted to say I’m sorry if you felt betrayed. I won't be the first to speak to you or greet you again. I’m sorry for making things uncomfortable."
It was just as Roxana finished speaking and was about to go on her way that Alice, who had been looking at her with an unreadable expression, grabbed her arm.
"Roxana!"
Startled, Roxana’s eyes widened. The two, exchanging glances, shouted almost simultaneously.
"I’m sorry, Roxana!"
"……Yes?"
It was an unexpected situation.
"I’m sorry. It’s not because I dislike you or despise you. I was surprised, of course, but..."
The two, having let go of their embrace, spoke over one another.
"We knew there was something between you and the Lord. But we were upset that you didn't tell us until the end, so without realizing it..."
"We don't care if you’re a maid or the Lord’s mistress. We like you for who you are, not your status. We’ve been avoiding you because we were half-hurt and half-worried about how to treat you. If you were hurt... we’re sorry."
As Alice and Kesi’s words continued, Roxana’s eyes grew increasingly red. At the same time, the knots in her heart began to unravel one by one. It was good that she had gathered the courage to speak her mind first. The two were still her friends.
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