TMWDS Chapter 29

“What?”

“Don't celebrate too soon, Nils. From where I'm standing, you don't have the head for an heir's education. My guess is you won't last a few months before you're handing your turn over to Yvonne.”

“Why you little bitch—!”

Fire came into Nils's eyes as he seized Ionna by the collar.

Ionna was busy estimating what a set of dentures might run him, and found herself, oddly, feeling a little sorry for the toothless life ahead of him, when she turned her eyes toward the household staff instead.

Only then, apparently remembering there were witnesses, did Nils let go of her collar.

He glared at her and spoke each word with deliberate weight.

“Count yourself lucky.”

Nils turned and walked out of the dining hall.

Yvonne, who had been watching the exchange, hurried after her brother—though not before firing one last sharp look back at Ionna.

Ionna raised a hand and gave it a small wave in their direction, as if in farewell.

She'd redirected the enemy's attention elsewhere. Now it was time to start the real herding.

While Nils occupied himself with his belated education as heir, Ionna clocked in, near daily, to the capital's social circuit.

Middle-aged ladies and gentlemen, young men and women her own age, and even the occasional elderly host—she accepted every invitation, indiscriminately.

Naturally, the character of these gatherings varied wildly as a result.

"Dame Ionna, have you given any thought to participating in the equestrian tournament this coming half-year? Our club would finally produce a placer!"

The riding club had gone straight to proposing she compete.

"I'm so glad you accepted my invitation, Dame Ionna. Ever since you rescued me from that trouble on Blanche Street, I've wanted so badly to see you again."

The lady who'd invited her to tea harbored some inexplicable fondness for her.

"I didn't realize you had a taste for opera—I never expected you to predict the ending with such precision... What? You've already seen it? Surely not, this play only premiered tonight."

She'd nearly given away the fact of her regression, mid-opera.

"Oh my, Dame Ionna. Well... for a first attempt at embroidery, this is—well. A remarkable piece. Especially this raccoon here—one can really feel all the joys and sorrows of a life lived as a wild animal. This twisted expression is, how shall I say... Hm? A lion, you said?"

Embroidery class... had been somewhat ambiguous.

'Can't fill your stomach in one bite.'

Well, she'd been complimented, so it was probably fair to say she had some talent.

Maybe once she filled in the empty parts at the next session, it would hold up to closer scrutiny.

She'd intended to give the finished handkerchief to Leroy. It had been quietly bothering her, in her past life, that she'd never once given her husband something she'd made herself.

'If he doesn't like it and turns it down, well... there's nothing to be done.'

There was no need to worry over the other party's reaction before she'd even finished the thing.

Ionna hadn't so much as glimpsed Leroy's face in nearly a week.

It made the trouble of relaying her schedule to him through Yonas beforehand feel almost pointless.

Any ordinary woman might have felt let down. But Ionna assumed he must have other matters to attend to, and let it pass. She already knew, after all, that he was extraordinarily busy during this particular stretch of time.

'He's probably still looking for his old fiancée.'

His response to the Imperial summons had been nothing but a smokescreen from the start—the real reason he'd come up to the capital was to search for his former betrothed.

Word had recently spread that Viviana, the only daughter of House Schmidt, had been spotted somewhere nearby.

In the end, Leroy would fail to find her. But right now, he was still deep in the search.

Yes—he must be terribly occupied hunting for his missing fiancée...

“It's been a while.”

Then why was he standing right there in front of her, bold as anything?

Ionna stared up at Leroy, dumbstruck.

She shut her eyes tight and opened them again, half-suspecting she was dreaming—but he was still there.

When word came that the Duke had arrived, she'd assumed there had to be some mix-up, right up until she came running downstairs and found there wasn't.

Ionna opened her mouth, visibly flustered.

“I didn't expect you today.”

“Weren't you scheduled to attend the ball at House Richter this evening?”

“I am, but—”

“Wasn't it you who said it would be troublesome if some outside interference kept us from crossing paths?”

That was not, however, an invitation to show up unannounced at her doorstep.

Worse, the servants trailing behind him were carrying an armful of boxes of unknown origin.

She didn't want to presume, but going by the mood of things, they were probably gifts. For her.

“...Please, come up to my room first. I'm not quite ready yet.”

After a moment's hesitation, Ionna finally let him into the house.

A partner who'd arrived without warning couldn't be left standing outside indefinitely.

There was still plenty of time before the ball started; she figured she could at least offer him some tea.

It was fortunate that Hayden and his children happened to be out.

That cozy little family gathering she'd never once been included in felt, just for today, remarkably welcome.

The servant Leroy had brought delivered the gifts all the way to Ionna's dressing room before leaving.

Marsha, who came running the moment she heard the news, made no effort to hide her delight as she opened the boxes.

“My lady, look at this. A ruby the exact color of your eyes. And this silk—just look at the sheen on it.”

She was probably laying it on a little thicker with the gift-giver standing right there, but it was true that every single item in those boxes was top-tier quality.

A dress generous with silk, velvet shoes set with a large natural gemstone, and matching accessories all caught the light and gleamed beneath it.

Ionna watched Marsha carefully lift out the dress, then asked without warning:

“How did you know my measurements?”

“Apparently he borrowed the pattern from the tailor's shop you use.”

'So there really is nothing money can't do.'

Ionna felt a flicker of genuine admiration.

She'd never even imagined a world where you could order clothes without knowing someone's size.

She supposed she should count it a small mercy that at least the secret of her body's measurements hadn't been passed to him directly.

“This looks like it cost a fair amount.”

Ionna said it as if testing him. He said nothing, mouth shut.

Eventually her phrasing grew a bit more direct.

“You really didn't need to go to the trouble of gifting all this. I have plenty of clothes.”

“If that's what you'd like to claim, you might have done better not letting me in here at all. I was beginning to wonder whether you'd been misrepresenting your station to me.”

Leroy said it indifferently, glancing around the room.

And indeed, at a glance, the number of dresses hanging in this room wasn't exactly abundant.

Even accounting for how late she'd started her social season, it was a conspicuously small amount.

Ionna answered with a somewhat sheepish expression.

“I receive a decent salary. I simply never had much interest in dressing myself up, so I never spent much on clothes.”

“Fortunate, then. No need to waste good money on a field you have no interest in.”

“There's even less need for you to shoulder that cost on my behalf.”

“Unlike you, it isn't such a regrettable expense for me.”

She couldn't quite tell whether he meant spending money on her wasn't regrettable, or spending money on clothing in general wasn't regrettable.

Ionna, eyeing the hem of the skirt—suspiciously glittering, as if silver thread had been worked in—eventually nodded, still looking somewhat unconvinced.

Refusing a gift he'd already gone to this much trouble to give, simply because it felt like too much, wasn't exactly good manners either. And it wasn't as though returning it would leave him with something he could use.

“...Then I'll gratefully accept it.”

The instant her mistress's permission dropped, Marsha—as if she'd been waiting for exactly this—immediately resumed sorting through the gifts.

Watching the scene unfold with a feeling somewhere between "is this really alright" and mild bewilderment, Ionna felt a gaze land on her from the side.

It wasn't her imagination; the moment she turned her head, their eyes met.

He asked:

“Would it be alright if I asked something that might be a bit rude?”