Olivia’s mouth widened in amazement. The sea breeze swept over the grass. Far away, white yachts anchored in the gentle waves.

“We’ll ride the yacht next time. Today, let’s showcase your skills.”

Olivia, who finally tore her gaze away from the sea, looked up at the man and asked.

“There’s a yacht too?”

Her round eyes blinking at me looked delightful.

“John has one too. Haven’t you been on a ride with him?”

Olivia’s gaze turned towards the stairs.

“That person… is busy, you know.”
The sunlight bathed the shoulders of the cautiously walking woman in its radiance. For a moment, there was a strong urge in Edgar to ask why Johann had sent the letter.

The couple was not on good terms, that was clear. The woman knew almost nothing about Johann. As the rumors suggested, Johann ignored the existence of his wife. On the contrary, Olivia…

The woman didn’t hide her affection for her husband.

The sudden news of her ex-husband’s engagement, the international mail sent to London through the maid, and Johann’s letter. It was clear what it implied.

Olivia Blanchett’s love was not over yet.

On a warm late spring day, a hot breeze uncomfortably touched Edgar’s cheek. Summer was approaching.

“Who is this lady?”

“Miss Olivia Blanchett.”

Edgar introduced Olivia to Henry. The club president, key executives, and general manager were present.

“Hello. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Once in front of people, Olivia felt a bit nervous. The paradise-like scenery no longer caught her eye.

Henry observed the woman in front of him with a calm gaze.

She looked firm, but her slender wrists and ankles seemed delicate, as if they would fly away with the wind.

But from her makeup-free face, youthfulness exuded a vivid vitality, much like Edgar.

In appearance, she wouldn’t lose to Princess Anne Blanche. Approved.

The divorced bastard and the divorced Princess of Britain.

Even the titles were thrilling, highly provocative.

This cunning guy.

Indeed, a fox was a fox. Henry looked at Edgar with satisfaction, and Edgar responded with a sincere smile.

“Let’s get started, Your Excellency.”

A cold voice flew between the two.

It was an unsettling action to mess with the prepared pastries on the table, but this was not a casual gathering on a leisurely afternoon.

Russell Dixon, serving as the chairman of the Dublin Cricket & Tennis Club and the president of the British Tennis Players Association, felt this situation was utterly inappropriate.

How dare this place.

Allowing a woman.

His enraged mustache trembled.

For more than a hundred years, this had been a sacred space for gentlemen. It wasn’t a place for the likes of women. Especially, not for a lowly divorced woman.

This was undoubtedly a violation of tradition, a challenge to the authority of gentlemen, and a contempt for the grass. It was an act that could not be tolerated.

Other members felt the same way.

If the entry of women was allowed, they might have to endure their wives’ nagging even in this forbidden area.

Oh! Horrifying!

It would have been better if the end of the world had come.

Down with this!

The chilly gazes directed at Olivia were shouting in unison. Russell sent a sympathetic look to the leader of the allies.
“What’s the hurry? Even if we have a cup of tea, it won’t be late.”

Ah, no. Your Excellency?

Russell’s face, which turned pale like flipping a hand, bewildered at Henry’s change of complexion.

He wasn’t like this when he was announcing the denial on the permit. The owner, who was in a rage, seemed to have half-betrayed himself to that fox-like woman.

Russell, grinding his teeth in betrayal, stared at Olivia as if he would devour her.

“No, it’s better to run with a light body.”

Olivia spoke directly to Henry.

There was no atmosphere to casually enjoy tea. Olivia couldn’t be audacious enough to leisurely savor tea in front of people sending overtly displeased glances.

They were attacking Olivia psychologically. She had anticipated that she wouldn’t be welcomed, so she wasn’t greatly disheartened.

However, did it have to be to this extent? Olivia had asked Edgar, and he had replied with a smirk.

“If there is no path, we have to create one.”

Most clubs were exclusive to men, and the tennis courts for nobles were owned by British palaces, some universities, and a few hotels. So, if you wanted to practice while avoiding media exposure, Dublin Club, with the most thorough security, was suitable, he said.

“I don’t expect to win.”
“I’m not interested unless it’s a victory.”

Recalling the words he said on the day of signing the application, Olivia heard Henry’s gentle voice.

“Then let’s do that.”

“Yes.”

Olivia’s brief response carried a resolute gaze. Winning wasn’t the goal, but at least she wouldn’t show a ridiculous figure in front of these men.

For the honor of her seniors.

Olivia tightened her grip on the racket, determined.