83.

Anna, who had been explaining innocently, looked at Rosetta and instantly burst into shock. Despite being so startled that her face turned deathly pale, the fact that she still didn’t let go of the dress she tightly gripped… showed she truly had an impeccable work ethic. Anna dropped the dresses onto the living room couch as if throwing them, then stammered in a voice that sounded close to fainting.

“Wh-what happened to your face…?”

“What? My face?”

Rosetta, unaware of what startled Anna, casually touched her face with her hand. As a result, the ink line straight across her nose began to smear, making Anna’s face turn three times paler.

“Th-that… um… h-how dreadful… those… those terrible… m-mustaches…?”

Only then did Rosetta realize why Anna was so horrified. Anna swiftly approached, carefully wiped Rosetta’s face with the hem of her sleeve, and upon confirming the dark smudges weren’t facial hair but ink, her expression turned terrifying.

“Tomorrow’s tea party you’ve been so anxious about is right around the corner! And look at this mess!”

Anna glared with both hands planted firmly on her hips, as if demanding an excuse. At this point, one couldn’t even tell who the real mistress was. Rosetta meekly protested.

“I didn’t do this on purpose…”

“Just stay still.”

Anna grabbed Rosetta’s chin as if to hold it in place and wiped her face with a damp handkerchief. The motion started gentle, but grew rougher and rougher—clearly, her emotions were increasingly seeping into her actions. After what felt like an eternity, Anna finally released Rosetta’s face, looking satisfied.

“Well, at least I caught it in time. No lasting traces remain. And fortunately, the stains were mostly on the face…”

Before she could finish speaking, Anna spotted the uneven smudges on Rosetta’s hair. Rosetta let out a soft “Eek,” instinctively trying to cover it with her hand, but Anna’s glare had already sharpened dangerously.

“……”

“……”

Her usually gentle brown eyes narrowed into a piercing glare—she clearly wanted to slap Rosetta’s back, but was restraining herself due to their respective statuses.

“And I left you alone after your bath for three whole hours…”

It was a grumble one might direct at a trouble-prone youngest sibling. Rosetta, who knew exactly how much effort Anna had put into bathing her, felt a pang of guilt and quickly averted her gaze. Damn it. After all these years of living, instead of growing thicker-skinned, her shame seemed to grow thinner by the day.

“…You’ll need another bath. I’ll go draw hot water.”

“Now?”

“Don’t move an inch! Not even a finger!”

* * *

Rosetta yawned widely behind her fan. She had only fallen asleep late in the early morning after going through the entire ordeal again—being submerged in hot water, soaked in scented oils, every ink stain hunted down and scrubbed, then having her hair thoroughly dried.

She hadn’t known—the ink used in the Montrosa dukedom was famously difficult to wash off with water once dried. If Anna hadn’t removed it in time, a grotesque, mustache-like stain would have remained on her face, causing her to suffer for at least a week.

“The tea’s fragrance is exquisite.”

Among the noblewomen chatting softly around the table, the woman seated directly across from Rosetta faintly smiled and said this. Rosetta paused briefly, trying to recall the woman’s name.

Her neatly combed silvery-gray hair, light green eyes… Actually, more than her hair or eye color, the biggest clue was her attire, similar to mourning clothes. It was the Countess Seymour, who had become a widow several years ago. Rosetta responded calmly, not too late, remembering Louise’s teachings.

“Countess Seymour. Are you enjoying the tea?”

“Very much. What region are the tea leaves from?”

“They’re from Beltenue.”

“No wonder I found the exotic aroma so distinctive.”

“I’m glad you like it. I took special care in selecting them.”

Of course, it was Louise who had. Rosetta knew next to nothing about tea, so she had managed to avoid that particular labor. Swallowing down the minor backstory, Rosetta smoothly added,

“I’ll instruct the maids to let you take as much as you’d like when you leave.”

“May I have some too?”

A timid-looking noblewoman seated nearby cautiously requested. Rosetta responded without hesitation.

“Of course. In fact, I prepared enough as gifts for everyone.”

At this, the atmosphere grew even warmer. The noblewomen spent the next while completely absorbed in tasting the tea and the various sweet desserts the Montrosa household’s chef had meticulously prepared for the past two days.

In truth, good tea, elegant refreshments, and generous gifts accounted for over eighty percent of a tea party’s success. From the moment the notoriously picky Countess Seymour wore a satisfied smile, the event could already be considered a success.

Yet Rosetta’s heart was tense with anxiety. The woman she truly wanted to approach—the Marchioness of Blake—sat nearby, seemingly dazed and unable to relax her expression. Only after another noblewoman sitting beside her nudged her elbow did the marchioness suddenly snap back to awareness.

“Ah…”

“How are you feeling, madam?”

Rosetta smiled and spoke to her, as if she had been waiting for the moment. The Marchioness of Blake hurriedly brought her half-cool teacup to her lips, deliberately swallowed a sip, then replied with a polite smile.

“It’s… very good.”

“I’m glad.”

Rosetta narrowed her eyes in a returning smile, sharply observing the Marchioness of Blake. She could bet her entire fortune that this woman had no idea whether the tea was going in through her nose or mouth.

Rosetta rang a small silver bell to summon a servant. A few noblewomen glanced at her with curious eyes. Despite all being married women, their expressions were so adorable that Rosetta momentarily forgot etiquette and winked one eye.

“Did you know there’s a special secret about this tea?”

“A secret?”

“When enjoyed with whisky, its flavor becomes even more exquisite. Particularly well-paired with Romdok vintage 76.”

“Oh. I’ve heard of such tea before.”

Rosetta recited a line she had half-memorized. The idea to suggest whisky had been Louise’s—she calculated that once alcohol was involved, people would later recall not awkward etiquette, but only the pleasant atmosphere.

Of course, it was rare to serve alcohol, especially strong whisky, at a tea party. But with the exceptionally rare Romdok 76—so precious that no one would dare speak ill of it—people might grumble about excessive spending on a mere ladies’ tea gathering. Still, the refined pretense wore off quicker than expected, so they served the whisky earlier than planned. Well, good is good.

At Rosetta’s gesture, waiting servants poured deep golden whisky into small glass tumblers. A rich malt aroma pleasantly rose into the air. Among the noblewomen, a few accustomed to drinking immediately took a sip, while others cautiously fiddled with their glasses.

“Won’t it be too strong?”

“Just lightly touch it to your lips. It’s for enjoying the aroma, after all.”

The assurance that this wasn’t about getting drunk, but about savoring the scent, seemed to dismantle their final reservations. A few women completely ignored their tea, appearing almost desperate to get another sip of whisky. As sweet pastries that masked the bitterness of alcohol began arriving in succession, the atmosphere fully ripened.

“This pairing is truly wonderful. How ever did you come up with such a combination?”

“I’m glad.”

“I’ve wanted to meet you ever since I heard you’d arrived.”

“Thank you.”

Rosetta awkwardly caught the increasingly disjointed remarks of several noblewomen. Yet the women, now feeling the effects of alcohol, didn’t seem to mind straying slightly from formal etiquette.

Rosetta pretended to sip her tea, but her full attention remained sharply fixed on the Marchioness of Blake. The woman had already asked a servant to refill her whisky glass for the third time.

Rosetta gently touched the flushed Marchioness of Blake’s arm.

“Marchioness of Blake. I have something urgent to discuss. Would you spare a moment?”

“Of course, of course.”

“It’s a bit difficult here… Let’s step out to the terrace.”

Without much suspicion, the marchioness obediently took Rosetta’s hand and stood. Leaving guests behind during a tea party wasn’t proper, but Rosetta silently sought their understanding with a glance.

In fact, several noblewomen had been watching the Marchioness of Blake’s drinking with growing concern. They now seemed relieved that Rosetta was taking her aside before the mood soured.

As soon as they stepped onto the terrace, a gust of wind hit them. The marchioness briefly pressed her forehead, as if dizzy, but seemed to clear her slightly clouded senses thanks to the breeze. Rosetta offered her a chair.

“Please, sit.”

Rosetta didn’t miss the subtle flicker of wariness in the Marchioness of Blake’s eyes.

“Um… what was it you wanted to say to me…?”