The Soulless Duchess

Chapter 7

“I will take you to safety,” said the baritone voice from just above her.

Yvona gasped as the strong arms picked her up off the ground. She was so surprised that she was hardly able to react as she noted, nevertheless, that these were very powerful, sturdy arms that were holding her.

Given his quick stride, he wasn’t finding her heavy at all. He took her to safety in no time and put her down.

Only then was Yvona able to manage, “Thank you... Duke Azentine.”

Many people pitied Yvona. They felt so sorry for her that they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Some of them wept, saying they had never seen wounds so horrific.

But Yvona knew that they didn’t truly feel for her. They were looking down on her, pretending to be sympathetic as they felt relieved and lucky that they didn’t have to be revolting like her.

To them, Yvona was just a tool that made them feel better about themselves. Each time she received help from another person, she was reminded that they would never treat her as an equal.

That’s how everybody treats me...

But Claude was different. He held her arm in the way he would hold anyone and carried her to safety.

Then, he vanished before she could even finish her brief word of thanks. Those who saw this laughed, thinking Yvona had repulsed him and made him flee—that the monster must have been hurt to have stirred horror in the most composed man in the empire.

But Yvona was not at all offended by Claude’s demeanor. If he truly was disgusted by Yvona as other people thought, he would not have helped her to begin with.

If he had pitied her, he would have been unnecessarily kind to her, but he was just as uninterested in her as he was with everybody.

Based on what she had observed of him, he would have done the exact same for anybody about to collapse in the middle of a battlefield.

This stayed with Yvona for a long time: Claude had treated her like anybody else when no one treated her like an average human being.

She remembered this equally indifferent treatment toward all.

***

Whether one supported Claude or not, the general opinion of him was that any woman who married Duke Azentine would live with an empty husk.

The prevailing opinion was that he was completely uninterested in love and incapable of affection. Even if he did take himself a wife, he would not dote on her nor care for her, and so she would live with an empty husk.

And wouldn’t that turn her into a duchess who’s hollow on the inside as well?

But anyone who married this man, while unable to expect an affectionate marriage, would be treated as a human being.

Gaspar never treated me with even the most basic respect. I don’t expect love from anyone anyway.

People said Yvona was Cinderella. They told her she was extremely lucky.

She knew what this meant. Compared to Gaspar, she had nothing going for her. She was inferior to him in rank and appearance.

Every time someone looked at her as if to say, “I don’t know what Gaspar sees in you,” Yvona was tempted to reveal her powers to the world. She wanted to reveal that she was a summoner and that he was drawn to her talent.

Still, she refrained from revealing their secret through all the derision and insults. She didn’t once summon a divine beast when Gaspar wasn’t around, lest anyone grow suspicious about his ability. What a fool she was to place her faith in his love.

The days of professing love, of promising an eternity together, of dreaming of a future together—Where did that time go? Perhaps it all ended so senselessly as if none of it was ever real.

Yvona felt empty. What was all that hard work for?

In this new life, she was determined to keep people at arm’s length. She only said what was necessary. She never made jokes or made an effort to be friendly. When someone was cordial with her, she carefully avoided them.

She was afraid of love, not people. She was afraid of being engulfed again and of her own impulse to give herself wholly to another person.

In that sense, Claude was the perfect choice for her.

“If I find a woman who can promise never to fall in love with me, I might marry...”

If that was all he asked for in a wife, she could meet this criteria. As a soulless husk, she would play the role of “half-a-duchess Azentine” better than anyone.

After the day Claude helped her on the battlefield, they sometimes found themselves in the same crowd and had opportunities to speak with one another. They knew each other well enough that if she were to visit him at his castle, he would not cast her out.

But Lord Azentine in this timeline doesn’t know who I am.

She couldn’t think of a good way to meet with him, and without seeing him, how would she propose marriage?

The guard at the castle gate would turn away a lady of insignificant rank demanding to see the duke. Apart from their difference in rank, another obstacle was that single women were generally barred from entering the castle due to the deluge of suitors throwing themselves at Claude Azentine.

She had to think of a way to run into Claude. This would be tough, as it was public knowledge that he did not enjoy social occasions.

Come to think of it... a banquet honoring his victory will be held in a few days.

It was around this time that Claude felled the magical beast of the lake that had been plaguing villagers. It was fortuitous that the ball was being held during the Festival of Iphelia.

Men and women would give each other Iphelia flowers during the festival to remember the greatest romance of the century. Young ladies and gentlemen courted more freely during this time.

The social barrier placed by rank disappeared during the Festival of Iphelia. Young ladies who were taught that modesty was a virtue could speak boldly with the gentlemen—without being spoken to first. This was a time when many of the unspoken social rules were lifted.

This will be the perfect opportunity for me to speak with Lord Claude.

Yvona made up her mind to attend the ball. The ballroom would be her battleground, and she would have her victory.

***

Yvona decided to have a new dress made for the ball. Her closet was full of dresses that were tattered and out of fashion.

Lord Claude may be looking for a wife to not fall in love with, but he might refuse to even speak with me if I show up dressed inappropriately.

Yvona in her past life thought that frugality was an important virtue. This was the influence of Colin, her father who begrudged every cent he spent on his daughter.

“At least you’re not wasteful like all those girls with croissants for brains.”

Delighted by this comment that Yvona took to be a compliment from her father, she refused all invitations from young ladies in her circle to come along to the dressmaker.

Once, when she asked her father for permission to go to the dressmaker because she had worn the same dress too many times, he said, “I guess you’re just like every other frivolous girl out there.”

She never brought up the topic of dresses to her father ever again. She did not want to disappoint her father who didn’t like a spendthrift.

But looking back, he always wore the most extravagant outfits. His cufflinks were made of the very best materials, and even the most casual outfits he wore around the house were ornately embroidered. Yvona understood now that a lady’s choices and actions were more readily criticized and mocked.

If a gentleman spent the same amount of money on outfits, went to the same balls, and ran in the same circles as a lady, the gentleman was always given the benefit of the doubt, whereas ladies could not avoid censure even if they behaved with utmost care.

I wouldn’t mind his outfits so much if he didn’t waste money at the brothel. We could have used that money to pay the servants’ wages.

One great difference between Yvona now and Yvona in her previous life was that she no longer craved her father’s approval. In the past, she passed on every bit of money that came her way. She had hoped to earn praise by contributing what little bit she could.

Yvona would not be repeating the foolishness this time around. She was determined to use her money for herself. Most of the money she got from selling her engagement ring, fortunately, still remained with her, as she was unable to buy a lot of Kiridan fruit with it.

She headed out to Le Nolmanda Road. Dressmakers for wealthy ladies filled this street, but only a few places were busy just a few days out from the ball. Even in the district that boasted the best dressmakers in the empire, ladies only wanted to be seen at the very best among them.

But I can’t afford the most fashionable dressmaker.

Yvona was the daughter of a mere count, who would not be able to get an appointment at an elite dressmaker with daughters from so many powerful families waiting in line. Besides, she couldn’t afford an expensive dressmaker.

She turned away from the area where carriages were lined up to pick up young ladies, and she headed for a less crowded part of Le Nolmanda. Among storefronts decorated in similar, uniformly flashy styles, one store with classically elegant dresses caught her eye. This was to her liking.

“Hello. Welcome to La Beauté.”

There was just one clerk at this empty boutique. On the dress forms, dresses of strong, bright colors adorned with equally glaring gems were displayed. These were dresses for beautiful women with striking features. This was in fashion in society these days.

Yvona looked around the store and stopped in front of a dark blue dress. This would bring out the color of her blue-gray eyes, but that didn’t mean she absolutely loved it.

Will the dress look good on me?

She was unsure, but she decided to have a closer look. Then, she noticed that the boutique had a second floor. The dresses displayed upstairs, which she had to crane her neck to see, drew her eye even though they weren’t made from especially striking material and colors.

“Could I see the dresses on the second floor?”

“Yes, of course. Please come this way.”

The clerk, who seemed to be in her thirties, had a gentle demeanor. Her cheerful disposition put Yvona at ease, so she followed her up to the second floor.

As she checked out the dresses, the clerk offered, “These are different from the fashionable dresses, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they’re different.”

But Yvona liked them much better than the dresses displayed on the first floor. She admired the dresses, each one prettier than the next, then stopped in front of one dress.

This one was very different from any of the dresses in the store. The color was subtle. It was a light blue-gray, the same color as Yvona’s eyes.

The color that she had always thought was a little drab couldn’t look more beautiful on this dress. It was classic but not boring, and it was sure to bring out the youthful liveliness in Yvona, who was just twenty.

The design of the dress was unique as well. Instead of large ribbons on the hem, meticulous trimmings of lace and small gems were sewn onto the dress. The embroidery was gentle ripples of silver thread instead of oversized flowers in gold.

Yvona, who thought that the trimmings on dresses these days were a bit gaudy, liked this dress very much.

“It has a stylish, muted sheen,” the clerk commented. She seemed delighted that Yvona was interested in this dress. “It’s made of silk imported from Callan. It has a gentle glow. More luminous than glossy.”

Listening to the clerk’s sales pitch, it suddenly occurred to Yvona: “Did you make this dress yourself?”

“Oh, you noticed.” The woman chuckled as if embarrassed, then introduced herself.