“The tea has a nice aroma.”

The elderly gentleman, who was the owner of the largest club in the Brit Kingdom and a collateral member of the Brit royal family, offered tea with a kind-looking face. Edgar took a sip of the tea. The bitter flavor carried a hint of stubbornness.

“It’s a precious tea. I brought it out especially for you. So drink it quietly and be on your way.”

Henry, as if he had nothing more to say, brought the teacup close to his nose and gazed into the distance. Through the front window, green grass courts could be seen. People dressed in dazzling white clothes were playing matches.

“See for yourself and make a judgment.”

Edgar said as he put down his cup.

“My position remains unchanged.”

Edgar had recently requested approval for Olivia Blanchet to use the club.

She needed a place to practice away from reporters’ eyes for about a month until the tournament. Henry McDowell, the Marquis who owned this place, had denied the request.

“No matter how much the world has changed. I won’t stand for women fluttering their skirts in my club.”

The reason was that this club, boasting a long tradition and history, was a men-only club that accepted only a select few upper-class individuals as members. An extremely exclusive and old-fashioned anachronistic stubbornness.

“If you see her, you’ll change your mind.”

“The princess will win anyway. Why bother with such troublesome things?”

The predetermined winner each year diminished the interest in watching the games, and as a result, women’s tennis matches were miserably unpopular compared to men’s matches, where illegal gambling even thrived to predict the winner.

Only Princess Anblyn’s friends and nobles who wanted to save her face barely filled the seats. In short, it meant a deficit.

“Have you finished your tea?”

“If the princess doesn’t win.”

Edgar’s low voice carried weight. Henry withdrew his gaze from the window.

“Then will you allow it?”

“There have been many players more skilled than Anne. They all lost to her status.”

“She is not a Brit.”

“……”

“She has no reason to be mindful of the princess.”

Edgar did not miss the slight wavering in the aged eyes.

“In this tournament, she will. She will bring about an upset.”

The golden eyes that had been tinged with the boredom of old age were gradually filling with intrigue.

“That’s the charm of sports.”

Edgar pulled at the corner of his mouth. Henry’s eyes changed to those of a gambler.

Henry’s heart, which had inherited a thin strand of the Dumblin royal family’s blood that was crazy for close matches, was excited.

Even on his deathbed, if a big match were to unfold, he would be the type to keep his eyes wide open until he confirmed whether his player had won before closing them. So he couldn’t help but be intrigued.

The gaze they exchanged, as if probing each other, ended with Henry’s hearty laugh.

If the Duke of Lancelot was like a raccoon, then this son of his was, well…

The sunlight that shone into the office settled on the shoulders of the young man beautifully shining with confidence. The image of his own aged self overlapped with the dazzling youth at its zenith.

Having had his weakness exploited, surrender was the next step. He was also very curious about the new opponent who would challenge the princess of Brit.

Of course, he wasn’t unaware of Edgar’s true intentions. It seemed he had something in mind to be doing this.

Whatever his hidden intentions might be, it might be better to see a player in a skirt at the club rather than watching Princess Anblyn win for the seventh year in a row.

“You sly fox.”

Henry laughed, elongating the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“I knew you’d say that, so I called you here.”

Edgar also responded with a smile.

“Oh my!”

Olivia exclaimed, pressing her face close to the carriage window, almost touching her forehead to the glass as she looked outside.

Crossing the weed-free lawn, a magnificent building filled her entire view. It was all green due to the ivy vines covering the red walls.

Suppressing the urge to jump out right away, her gaze wandering beyond the window caught sight of Edgar striding towards them in the distance.

Anne adjusted Olivia’s attire. She put on the boater hat neatly and smoothed out the skirt pleats while the coachman opened the carriage door.

“Did you wait long?”

Edgar asked, taking Olivia’s hand.

“We just arrived.”

Olivia was wearing a fluttery white blouse with a white flare skirt. She also had on white lace socks and satin shoes with a slight cream tint.

“Don’t be nervous, just be natural. Act like you usually do.”

Edgar smiled down at Olivia. She nodded slightly and followed Edgar into the club.

Curious glances and unpleasant stares flew at her sharply. Edgar had told her not to be nervous, but it was impossible not to feel uncomfortable in such a hostile atmosphere.

But that was only for a moment; Olivia’s blue eyes were soon busy darting here and there, taking in the splendid interior decorations.

“We’ll appreciate it later. This way.”

Edgar chuckled and led Olivia outside. At the end of the grass courts stretching beyond the long corridor, the sea was visible.

“Wow! It’s truly beautiful!”

Olivia’s mouth opened wide. The sea breeze swept across the grass. In the distance, white boats tied at the yacht moorings swayed in the gentle waves.

“We’ll ride the yacht another time. Today, let’s show off your skills.”

Olivia, finally tearing her eyes away from the sea, looked up at the man and asked.

“You have a yacht too?”

Her round eyes blinking at him was a pleasing sight.

“Even Johan has one. He’s never taken you?”

Olivia’s gaze turned to the stairs.

“That person… is busy, you know.”

Sunlight pooled on the woman’s white nape as she carefully walked down. For a moment, Edgar felt a strong urge to ask why Johan had sent the letter.

They certainly weren’t a happy couple. The woman knew next to nothing about Johan. As the world rumored, Johan ignored his wife’s existence. On the other hand, Olivia…

The woman did not hide her affection for her husband.

The sudden news of her ex-husband’s engagement. The international mail sent to Rondos through a maid. And Johan’s letter.

What these implied was clear.

Olivia Blanchet’s love had not yet ended.

The hot wind of the late spring day uncomfortably wrapped around Edgar’s cheeks. Summer had already crept up close.

“And this lady is?”

“This is Miss Olivia Blanchet.”

Edgar introduced Olivia to Henry. The club’s chairman, key executives, and general manager were also present.

“Hello. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Now standing before people, Olivia was slightly nervous. The paradise-like scenery no longer caught her eye.

Henry observed the woman before him with a calm gaze.

Her wrists and ankles, though they looked firm, seemed so delicate that they might fly away with the wind.

But from her clear face, like Edgar, a vibrancy unique to youth emanated strongly like lush greenery.

In terms of appearance, she’s not inferior to Princess Anblyn at least. Pass.

A divorced illegitimate child and a divorced princess of Brit.

Even the title alone was thrilling and extremely stimulating.

This cunning fellow.

As expected, a fox was a fox. Henry looked at Edgar with eyes curving in satisfaction. Edgar also responded to that gaze with a wholesome eye smile.

“Shall we start right away, Your Excellency?”

A cold voice flew between the two men.

It was a rude action that made the refreshments prepared on the table seem pointless, but this wasn’t a place set up for a leisurely afternoon friendly gathering, so there was nothing else to say.

Russell Dixon, who held the positions of chairman of the Dumblin Cricket & Tennis Club and president of the Brit Tennis Players Association, found this situation extremely displeasing.

How dare they, in a place like this.

A mere woman.

His mustache trembled in indignation.

For a hundred and fifty years, it had been a sacred space for gentlemen. It was not a place to be defiled by a mere wench. And an ignoble illegitimate child at that.

This was clearly an act of breaking tradition, a challenge to the authority of gentlemen, and a desecration of the grass. It was an absolutely unacceptable act.

The other members felt the same way.

If women’s entry were to be allowed like this, they might have to endure their wives’ nagging even in this forbidden realm.

Oh! How dreadful!

It would be better for the world to end.

Absolutely opposed!!!

The cold gazes glaring at Olivia were shouting in unison. Russell sent a look of solidarity to the leader of his allies.

“What’s the rush? It’s not too late to have a cup of tea first.”

Ah, no. Your Excellency?

Russell’s face turned red in confusion at the sight of Henry changing his expression as easily as flipping his palm.

He wasn’t like this when he ordered the denial on the usage permit. The owner who had been in a great rage seemed to have half fallen for that foxy woman in no time.

Russell, his jaw chattering with a sense of betrayal, stared at Olivia as if he would devour her.

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

Olivia said, looking straight at Henry.

It was certainly not an atmosphere where one could drink tea. Olivia was not shameless enough to leisurely savor tea in front of people who were sending overtly unpleasant glances.

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

However. She had asked Edgar if they really had to go this far. He had smiled and answered.

‘If there’s no path, we have to make one.’

Most clubs were the exclusive domain of men, and tennis courts, being a sport of the nobility, were owned only by the Brit Palace, a few universities, and some hotels. So if one wanted to practice while avoiding media exposure, the Dumblin Club with the strictest security would be suitable, he had said.

‘I don’t aim for the championship.’
‘I’m not interested unless it’s the championship.’

Recalling what he had said on the day she signed the entry form, Henry’s gentle voice was heard.

“Then let’s do that.”

“Yes.”

Olivia’s eyes grew determined as she answered briefly. Although winning wasn’t her goal, she wouldn’t make a fool of herself in front of these men at least.

For the honor of her senior.

Olivia steeled her resolve as she gripped her racket tightly.