The Maid and The Usurper - Chapter 26
She was one of the women the Viscountess brought with her. They were the kind of annoying women who were tactless, loud, and subtly irritating when they wanted to get on people’s nerves. Layla shook her head.
“And a little flirtatious. I know chivalric literature is all the rage again these days, but that doesn’t mean this should be back in style too.”
“It’s not so much flirting as kindness, Lady Mayer.”
The woman next to her said, who at least seemed to have some sense. She gently tugged on Lady Meyer’s arm, trying to hint that now wasn’t the time for loud conversations.
“Lady Schmidt is so naive. There are insidious ulterior motives behind their kindness. Aren’t they a little clever?”
Lady Meyer’s voice rose in excitement. Layla wanted to cover her ears to block out the piercingly high-pitched squeak.
“Nowadays, knights are trying to secure positions as lovers to noblewomen to line their pockets,” Lady Meyer continued, her voice grating on Layla’s nerves.
The music of the musicians sounded strangely unsettling. The strings cut the air sharply. Laya wished she could shut that clueless woman’s mouth if she could.
“Well, the ending isn’t always good, is it? When you think about it, greed often leads to ruin.”
Layla was sure that if Lady Meyer ever had any sense, she must have sold it off long ago. Lady Schmidt’s face had gone pale as she frantically tugged at Lady Meyer’s arm. Layla was genuinely impressed by Lady Meyer’s remaining blissfully oblivious to everyone’s gaze shifting towards her.
As the room’s attention shifted to the thoughtless and tactless Lady Meyer, Layla discreetly turned her eyes toward Viscountess Bertel. The Viscountess remained composed, leisurely fanning herself without the slightest change in expression. Goosebumps prickled Layla’s skin. The musicians reached the crescendo of their performance, just as Lady Meyer’s mouth reached the height of its recklessness.
“Well, even wise people have been known to engage in shameless acts, meddling in affairs that aren’t theirs. They get what they deserve, and the ending is…”
Lady Meyer trailed off as if, for the first time, her lost sense of decorum returned. She abruptly closed her mouth, sensing the danger too late. Leopold’s sharp gaze locked onto Lady Meyer, and Layla could tell that he was using every ounce of restraint he had. Had it not been for that control, he would likely have slapped Lady Meyer across the face without hesitation. His clenched fists and the tremor in his body betrayed the fury boiling beneath the surface.
“Lady Meyer.”
“Count.”
She bowed her head, looking as if she wanted to bite her tongue right that moment. Lady Schmidt, who had been diligently trying to stop her, had already fled far away and blended into the crowd. Her body was trembling.
“Surely, it’s not impolite of me to ask what exactly you meant by those words, is it?”
In truth, it was Beatrice who had come between Franz II and Victoria. It was Baden that had driven a wedge between the apparent lovers and brought tragedy to their end.
“I-I’m terribly sorry,” Lady Meyer stammered, bowing even lower. Her voice quivered as she regretted every word that had escaped her lips. Despite Leopold being a royal bastard, his lineage was impeccable. One couldn’t forget Count Bard’s wrath when his daughter was insulted. Lady Meyer wanted to disappear.
“I apologize. Count. I apologize on behalf of my niece.”
Viscountess Bertel bowed her head before Leopold. It was an action that flowed too naturally. Layla was not impressed. It was a meticulously orchestrated plot. Disgustingly precise.
“My niece is young and thoughtless, and she made a mistake. As her elder, I humbly ask that you forgive her with grace. I apologize on her behalf.”
It was such a cheap apology, full of flowery words meant to smooth over the mess they’d made of someone’s birthday. They’d insulted a parent and a daughter, carelessly reopening the wounds of those who had lived their lives scarred, only to then speak as if it was all an innocent mistake to be brushed aside with kindness. Behind Viscountess Bertel’s polished words, Queen Beatrice’s shadow loomed unmistakably.
Suddenly—
“Ah!”
“Kyah!”
A glass hit the floor, shattering into pieces. The brandy it held spilled all over Viscountess Bertel, drenching her completely. Leopold’s eyes widened.
