A Way to Confirm Your Husband’s True Feelings - Chapter 9
Having been born and raised as a duke’s daughter, she had grown indifferent to meetings with most high-ranking nobles. Even Beatrice, who had remained composed in the presence of His Majesty the Emperor, now vividly recalled what it felt like to be nervous—standing before Caesar Valentin.
Her heart pounded so fiercely that the tremor spread through her entire body. She desperately didn’t want to show it, but the moment she took his hand, Beatrice flinched without meaning to, her fingertips trembling. Even through her gloves, his hand felt large and burning hot.
“…Caesar Valentin. It’s an honor for me as well to meet Your Ladyship.”
Before she could even recover from the jolt of the handshake, a deep, heavy voice struck not her ears—but her heart.
A voice so low it made her wonder if a human’s voice could truly reach that register. That resonant bass, combined with a slightly rough, scraped texture, created a sound so alluring it sent shivers down her neck.
She had never thought any man’s voice could leave such a strong impression, but Margrave Valentin’s voice seemed like it would echo in her mind for a long time to come.
The noise of the banquet hall faded into the distance. For a moment, she felt dizzy—as though they were the only two people left in the vast ballroom.
Only after quite some time did Beatrice realize that what she’d felt was the sensation of falling for someone at first sight.
But right now, Beatrice was standing in the middle of a chaotic banquet hall, unable to fully examine her emotions. It wasn’t until Freya called her again that she finally came back to her senses.
“Beatrice, are you alright?” her sister asked.
“Ah, yes. There are more people than usual in the hall today… I must have felt a little dizzy. I apologize, Your Excellency.”
“It’s nothing.”
“If you’re really not feeling well, go rest in the lounge for a bit. I was planning to introduce you and then speak with the other nobles anyway.”
The House of Estern was one of the imperial family’s most trusted allies. If the Duke of Estern was the Emperor’s most reliable vassal, then Freya was the Crown Prince’s steadfast friend and political companion.
Ambitious from a young age, Freya had entered into a political marriage with Duke Ashburn, one of the three ducal houses of the Empire, and was now working toward becoming the next Foreign Minister.
Though their marriage had been arranged, Beatrice saw the relationship between Freya and the Duke of Ashburn as an ideal one. With Freya focused on external affairs and the duke being a scholar, they complemented each other well and were excellent partners both politically and personally.
Duke Ashburn supported his capable wife in her work outside the home, while Freya leveraged the power of both the Estern and Ashburn names to expand her influence.
The very fact that the Crown Prince had entrusted Freya with the important task of introducing Margrave Valentin to high society was a testament to the level of trust she held within the imperial family.
“No, really, I’m alright. I know you must be busy, but if it doesn’t trouble Your Excellency, I’d like to speak with you a bit more before I take my leave.”
Before Freya, in the process of fulfilling her duty, could whisk the Margrave away, Beatrice impulsively stopped the two of them.
Truthfully, she had no idea what they should talk about. But if they simply exchanged pleasantries and parted here, she didn’t know when she might ever run into him again—so she acted.
“…Very well.”
As expected, Margrave Valentin’s speech differed somewhat from the usual tones of high society. His slightly delayed rhythm seemed to be a personal habit, but that slow and deliberate manner of speaking carried a certain predatory ease that made it oddly appealing.
Tucking away the mental note that his voice was simply too good, Beatrice looked up at him cautiously, hoping her curiosity wasn’t too obvious.
What met her eyes were violet irises, so calm they seemed they wouldn’t flinch even if an explosion went off right in front of him. For her, it was a rather refreshing experience.
The men Beatrice typically encountered would become dazed just by meeting her eyes, or stare at her with an air of seduction—though most of those glances only made her uncomfortable.
But Margrave Valentin showed none of those reactions. His gaze was so composed it almost felt cold.
Feeling her heart tremble again, Beatrice lowered her gaze. She was amazed that such a direct and unhesitating look could make her feel so bashful. Though she had only looked at him directly for a brief moment, it had been more than enough to etch his image into her mind.
