The Maid and The Usurper - Chapter 24
The beautiful light of the chandelier cascaded down. A soft blend of perfumes filled the air. The sounds of groups chatting and the melodies of music tickled his ears. Despite being the host of the party, Leopold’s expression was anything but cheerful. To him, everything felt like a cheap play. It was a day he had repeated every year since his mother’s passing, and he had desperately wished for it to just pass by each time.
It was difficult for him to look at his grandparents’ faces as they looked at him with pity, and equally burdensome to endure those who, with an ocean of understanding, showed him sympathy. But worst of all were the people sent by the queen, whose presence made it impossible for him to enjoy his birthday.
“Greetings, Count.”
“It’s been a while, Viscountess Bertel.”
Of all the people present, she was the one he least wanted to see. She was a lady-in-waiting to the queen, serving as her hands and feet in the palace. It was only due to the queen’s favor that she had risen from the daughter of a mere knight to the position of Viscountess Bertel.
“I’m glad to see you’re well.”
She was calm, gracious, and warm, but the words that came out of her mouth were not pretty, and it was a nerve-wracking experience to be in her presence.
“Please convey my regards to Her Majesty the Queen.
“Her Majesty is always attentive to your well-being, Count. She is truly a benevolent person.”
The word benevolent had never sounded so laughable. Outwardly, it seemed perfectly appropriate. To be so attentive to her husband’s faults, even a saint could not have done so. Before anything else, the queen was not the type of person who would carefully look after the offspring of her husband’s mistress.
To have to face her here was absurd, like something from a bad novel. Leopold felt a dull throb at his temples. Irritation crept in like an unresolved stitch, impossible to ignore.
“I will do my best not to cause concern for Her Majesty.”
He always said it, mere words spoken without conviction, nothing more than a blindfolded game. It was truly agonizing to calmly face someone related to the enemy that had killed his mother. She had already taken one life and that should have been enough; he could not understand why the queen would continue to torment him even on his birthday.
“Once again, happy birthday.”
Viscountess Bertel gracefully bowed. Leopold, no longer willing to engage, simply nodded in response. The sweaty, nerve-wracking reception was bound to end with the Viscountess Bertel.
Leopold stepped away, retreating behind a pillar to catch his breath. Although he was the host of this ridiculous play, in reality, they were not very curious about the protagonist of this farce. He concealed himself in the shadow of the pillar.
He could see busy maids moving among the crowd. Among them was Layla. Her long black hair bounced as she moved. Layla’s hands were busy. Leopold leaned his head against the pillar. It had become a somewhat familiar routine. He leaned his back on the pillar, stealing glances at Layla as she diligently wrote words of instruction on a piece of paper. More and more, it had become part of his routine to observe Layla.
‘I would rather be congratulated by you than by all these people, Layla.’
He quietly fiddled with the handkerchief in his pocket.
‘I did some embroidery too. When I lived in La Ellosa, I did some piecework and took requests from the courtesans to do some embroidery… It might not be as good as what the artisans make, but… it should be usable.’
It was endearing how Layla, usually shy, had become more talkative due to her embarrassment. As he fiddled with the handkerchief, his unpleasant feelings began to fade.
‘What, do you expect me to stay here? You seem to have forgotten that I came in as the queen’s spy. If I stay here too long, I’ll be suspected, and I don’t want to get too deeply involved with the queen and risk my life.’
It was just a recounting of facts. Perhaps this was merely a fleeting, ephemeral moment of respite gifted by the gods, yet it was slipping away. He knew it well, but still, there was a part of him that wanted to hold onto it. If Layla heard this, she would likely call it the childish whining of an immature count.
But was it really so wrong to indulge in a little fantasy? Is it bad to chase after the hem of her skirt? She was a coy girl who wouldn’t look back even if she knew he was behind her. So, it should be fine. She wouldn’t know his feelings.
The head maid hurriedly grabbed Layla, who was bustling about. The words whispered in her ear seemed quite urgent. Layla quickly brushed her hands on her apron before following the head maid.
Leopold pushed himself upright from leaning against the pillar.
“Count.”
At the voice calling him, Leopold stepped out from the shadow of the pillar. The brief respite was over.
