A Way to Confirm Your Husband’s True Feelings - Chapter 11
Beatrice resented herself for making such a thoughtless joke. What if this conversation had left a bad impression on the Margrave? The thought was so distressing, it brought her to the verge of tears. More than anything else, the situation was simply mortifying.
“I understand. It seems I misunderstood.”
When she glanced at the Margrave’s face, clutching her thudding heart for a different reason this time, he had returned to his expressionless state.
But Beatrice’s dejected heart was far from recovered. She regretted her impulsive words, spoken in a moment of excitement.
Normally, she wouldn’t have fretted this much over a single exchange.
That she now found herself so affected by Margrave Valentin’s reaction could only mean one thing—she liked him that much.
Even after fumbling such a rare conversation, her heart continued to race uncontrollably.
Unlike her sister Amelia, who seemed determined to fall in love with every eligible bachelor in the capital, Beatrice had always thought she wasn’t the type to fall so easily. But Margrave Valentin had broken through her carefully guarded walls in a single blow.
His good looks were undeniable, but that wasn’t all. Perhaps it was that self-contained presence. Like a noble beast, exuding an aura entirely different from the people of the capital—that raw scent had utterly stolen Beatrice’s breath.
In truth, by the standards of high society, Margrave Valentin’s striking appearance was not necessarily ideal.
He had the kind of dangerous looks whispered about in salons, the kind that would ensnare young noblewomen in scandal merely for glancing his way.
Those who wished to tear him down would likely focus on such aspects, inventing flaws where none existed. They would no doubt dredge up his past as a wandering mercenary, trying their utmost to tarnish his honor.
But Beatrice was certain. Once anyone met Margrave Valentin even once, no one would dare speak ill of him again. In fact, they’d probably fight each other to land that legendary “big catch” like fishermen battling over a golden fish from myth.
And Beatrice herself would be just one among the many who coveted that golden fish.
The moment she admitted it, her mouth went dry with bitterness. Not because she feared not being able to have him. What made her feel petty was the realization that she was no different from the noblewomen she had just silently criticized in her heart.
To continue clinging to the conversation with that sort of mindset would be nothing but distasteful.
Besides, if someone expressed romantic interest after just one encounter without any real emotional connection, even she would feel put off. Wasn’t that exactly how all the men who had approached her until now had been?
Beatrice resolved to set aside her desire to get closer to him for now, and instead, try to see things from his perspective.
“No, if there was any misunderstanding in our conversation, it was my mistake for creating the opportunity for it. You must be busy, so I’ll let you go now to look around. It was a pleasure speaking with you, Your Excellency.”
Usually poor at hiding her feelings, Beatrice gathered what was left of her reason and forced herself to remain composed.
It was too soon to jump to conclusions, but judging by the conversation so far, it seemed unlikely that the Margrave had developed any romantic interest in her.
As a Margrave, he would likely return to his fief on the border before the social season was even over.
Which meant she would have little to no contact with him moving forward.
So Beatrice wanted to at least convey her heart through one final parting remark. Not enough to be burdensome, but enough to show her sincerity and warmth.
“I wouldn’t dare claim to know the full extent of your hardships, but it brings me genuine joy that Your Excellency stands before me now, having overcome them. I hope that only happiness awaits you from here on.”
Beatrice gazed for a long moment into what might be the last look she’d exchange with those violet eyes. More than her desire for him, she hoped her gratitude for his deeds had been conveyed.
“…Thank you for your kind words.”
Caesar Valentin’s reply was brief. But though it was brief, it somehow felt fitting for him, and Beatrice softly smiled.
*
“Then, I’ll see you later, Beatrice.”
Having watched their conversation silently until now, Freya took the Margrave and began guiding him toward the center of the ballroom.
Just then, a young gentleman who had approached to ask Beatrice for a dance greeted her, and she took the hand he offered.
Glancing back in lingering regret, she caught sight of the Margrave, who, as if he had also been looking her way, turned his gaze forward once more.
That was the first meeting between the two, as Beatrice would remember it.
