A Way to Confirm Your Husband’s True Feelings - Chapter 10
Even at a glance, his tall stature made it clear he was a head above the other gentlemen in the banquet hall. Not only his height, but his naturally broad frame, his wide shoulders, and the solid body honed through years of mercenary work could all be felt through his formal uniform.
His thick black hair, neatly combed back, and the old-fashioned attire were flawlessly proper—yet from somewhere, a wildness radiated.
Like a beast that could not be tamed, momentarily restrained, it felt as though the Margrave could, if he so wished, shatter every chain binding him in a single blow and bring everyone here to their knees beneath his feet.
Was it because of those untamed eyes? Or perhaps that icy, vigilant expression he had yet to fully let down?
Yet despite the face marked by coldness and savagery, his masculine and well-defined features were more than enough to make women’s hearts crumble at once.
Thick eyebrows, a strong nose bridge, sharp eyes, neat lips, and a firm jawline. There was not a single part of Caesar Valentin’s face that seemed out of harmony, even to Beatrice, who had grown up surrounded only by the most beautiful things in the world.
As she quietly mulled over the face of the Margrave, which she had taken in for just a moment, Beatrice suddenly snapped back to herself. She couldn’t just stand there staring after stopping busy people in their tracks. She needed to say something meaningful… but her tongue, usually so smooth, now felt stiff and uncooperative.
“The weather is really nice, isn’t it? With the evening breeze this warm, it truly feels like spring has arrived.”
The best she could manage to squeeze out of her blank mind was a comment about the weather—a topic even a sixteen-year-old debutante would shy away from.
Clenching her hand tightly within the folds of her dress, Beatrice prayed she didn’t seem like a dreadfully dull person. She could sense Freya’s knowing gaze, as if her sister had noticed something was off. Her nervousness doubled.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Another gentleman might have noticed Beatrice’s flustered state and skillfully shifted the topic. But Caesar Valentin simply gave an honest reply and then fell silent once more. A brief silence settled over the three of them.
“Is this your first visit to the capital?”
“No. I’ve come several times before on business.”
“Ah, then the imperial palace…”
“This is my first time.”
Rumors about Caesar Valentin had been widespread throughout the capital. Beatrice knew well that this was his first time attending a social event like tonight’s, especially as a former commoner.
She dared to guess he must be feeling quite uncomfortable right now. After all, the nobles were practically gawking at the new Margrave as though he were a monkey in a zoo.
Suddenly, Beatrice felt a strong desire to put him at ease. Maybe it was because she remembered the hardship of her own first season last year, or maybe it was simply the stirrings of affection.
Judging from her past experience, she thought it might help to keep the conversation light. A joke or a bit of laughter could be the perfect remedy for nervousness.
“Since it’s also your first time in high society, tonight could be considered your debut ball, Your Excellency.”
It was still painfully awkward, but Beatrice pushed through. There are moments when you want to flee from discomfort—and moments when, despite the awkwardness, you want to stay by someone’s side.
Truthfully, she was so tense she barely knew what she was saying, but thanks to her naturally sociable personality, she gradually began to regain her composure.
Enough to crack a small joke, just as she would with others.
“Actually, I made my debut last year. So strictly speaking… I suppose that makes me your senior in social experience.”
As she said the final line, she tilted her fan slightly to cover her face and whispered as though sharing a secret.
Lowering her voice enough that even Freya wouldn’t hear, the Margrave’s face leaned down slightly, as if to better catch her words from his towering height.
Glittering light-green eyes filled with laughter, and a smile blooming on her red lips—Beatrice’s words had clearly been meant as a joke.
But in the very next moment, she had to wonder whether she’d made a terrible mistake.
His eyes, like an icy lake that wouldn’t ripple even if a stone were thrown into it, hardened further into a cold stillness.
“…Does that mean, as your junior, I have something I should particularly learn from Your Ladyship?”
Beatrice, who had meant it as nothing more than a lighthearted jest, was now the one flustered by the Margrave’s unexpected reaction.
“A-Ah, no. That’s not what I meant at all. I only said it to try and make you feel more comfortable, Your Excellency.”
She meant it sincerely. But thinking back, perhaps her words had sounded to Caesar like the territorial pride of a long-established noble flaunting their status. Desperately, Beatrice began to explain.
“It’s just… my first season was very difficult, too. The beginning is always the hardest… I only meant to offer you encouragement, from someone who’s already been through it. Even if the capital’s high society feels unfamiliar, I hope you can enjoy tonight.”
If she could, she would open her chest and show him her heart. Had she ever felt so desperate to get her meaning across in a conversation with anyone?
