AWLITEB Chapter 30

"Grand Duke! I've missed you so much!"

The girl bounced on her toes, practically vibrating with excitement.

She was taller than Isabella, with a sweet prettiness that radiated a lifetime of being cherished. You could see it written in every line of her face—the security of always being loved.

"Forgive us. Our daughter can be... impulsive. Please excuse her rudeness."

The couple who emerged from the carriage after her bowed hastily to both Genos and Isabella.

The words seemed to jolt the girl back to awareness. She turned and bowed toward Isabella.

"I apologize. I was just so happy to see His Grace. Please forgive my discourtesy."

Isabella arranged her mouth into a smile.

She'd never worked so hard to maintain one. Her lips trembled with the effort. Something inside her kept trying to drag the corners of her mouth downward.

But Isabella forced the smile to hold.

"Not at all. His Grace hasn't visited the North in some time. Of course everyone is pleased to see him."

"You're very generous. The Grand Duke's intended bride truly is exceptional."

The girl's mother curtsied gratefully.

"May I introduce Count and Countess Thaessyl, and Lady Sonya."

Genos's calm voice provided the names.

Sonya. So that's her name.

Isabella offered a polite bow while studying Sonya's face.

Her laughter rolled like jade beads—musical and clear. That guileless smile held no shadows whatsoever.

Isabella caught herself envying the girl reflexively. The realization startled her. She took a sip of wine to forcibly settle her thoughts.

She didn't want to be controlled by something this small and petty.

A knock sounded. The head butler entered.

He apologized politely to the guests before approaching Genos and whispering quietly.

"The common people are arriving steadily. We've directed them to the food. Some have entered the manor to explore."

"Good. Thank you."

The butler withdrew. Genos stood, bringing Isabella up with him.

"Since we're the ones who invited the people into the estate, we should go greet them. If you'll excuse us?"

The nobles rose at his words.

"We'll come greet them as well."

"Of course. We can't let His Grace take all the popularity for himself."

"Ha. Then let's go together."

Genos laughed warmly and headed for the door with Isabella—then her arm jerked downward suddenly.

Isabella stumbled, weak as she was. She turned in surprise to find Sonya clinging to her arm, smiling.

"May I link arms with you?"

'She's already doing it while asking.'

Isabella blinked, caught off guard.

Is this what confidence looks like in a noble lady?

The assumption that no one would ever refuse such casual intimacy—the bold behavior born from absolute certainty of welcome—felt deeply alien to Isabella.

"Sonya!"

"Come here at once!"

Count and Countess Thaessyl called out, flustered.

But Genos said something unexpected.

"Let her be. She's just a child."

...A child?

Isabella's eyes widened.

She'd assumed he would send the girl away. Instead, he'd said the opposite.

And he'd called this girl—who was taller, healthier, more robust than Isabella—a child.

The slight stung in a way Isabella couldn't quite name.

They crossed the corridor toward the courtyard.

The townspeople enjoying the food looked up and bowed quickly at their approach.

"Hehe. When His Grace said he was bringing his fiancée, I was so curious what you'd be like."

Sonya's voice bubbled with energy as she spoke to Isabella.

Isabella worked to maintain her smile as she answered.

"Were you?"

"Oh! Please speak casually to me. You'll be the Grand Duchess soon, won't you?"

Sonya beamed and tightened her grip on Isabella's arm.

Isabella flinched at the pressure. Genos spoke up.

"Sonya, Isabella's health is somewhat delicate. You'll hurt her if you grip that hard."

"Oh my. I'm so sorry, Miss. I got excited without thinking."

Sonya released her hold immediately, looking contrite.

Isabella just wanted this moment to end. She quickened her pace toward the courtyard.

Once they passed through the main entrance, the crowd of people came into view.

Among them stood the boy who'd thrown cake at Isabella's face the other day.

He looked tense. Rigid with nerves.

Isabella ran through what was about to happen in her mind.

It had seemed like a straightforward plan. But seeing this noble girl clinging to her arm made something waver.

The thought of being humiliated in front of her—honestly—stung Isabella's pride.

The plan would create perfect synergy for her and Genos. In the long term, it would elevate their standing.

She knew that. And yet right now, in this moment, Isabella's pride was slowly crumbling.

"Enjoy yourselves today without a care. That's why we opened the manor doors."

Genos spoke warmly to the people, then began moving among the tables, greeting familiar faces.

Sonya remained at Isabella's side, arm still linked through hers.

Then Isabella's eyes met the boy's.

She swallowed hard and gestured toward the cake with her eyes.

The boy stared in disbelief and shook his head frantically.

But Isabella pushed him with her gaze, nodding firmly.

Forgiveness.

She mouthed the word at him.

The boy's face tightened with visible dread. Finally, he picked up a full cake.

He took a deep breath. Then he rushed toward the Grand Duke and his bride.

It happened in an instant.

Splat.

Moist cake met flesh.

"Oh my!"

"That brat's lost his mind!"

"Good God! What is he doing?!"

Screams erupted from every direction. Isabella had squeezed her eyes shut. But she felt nothing.

Confused, she opened her eyes slowly and looked around. Her body went rigid.

Genos had caught the boy's wrist.

Chunks of cake and globs of cream dripped from his face.

The boy looked equally horrified, frozen in place and unable to speak.

The entire world seemed to stop. Not a single breath could be heard.

To anyone watching, it would look like the boy had deliberately smashed the cake into Genos's face. But Isabella alone understood the truth.

Genos had purposely grabbed the boy's wrist and pulled it toward himself. He'd willingly taken the soggy pastry to his own face.

"I—I didn't—"

The boy stammered, panicking.

He'd meant to smash the cake into the Grand Duke's fiancée's face. Somehow the plan had gone catastrophically wrong.

Wrong in the direction of the Grand Duke's face getting the cake instead.

Genos wiped his face with one large hand.

White cream clung to his long fingers in thick clumps.