Sister, I'm the Queen This Life (330 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 320

“Oh, no.”

Bianca’s voice, heard for the first time, was deep and low, yet carried the distinctly youthful inflection typical of her age, making it oddly endearing.

“At my debutante ball, I must be presented—that’s how one becomes a proper lady,” she said.

She continued, striving to sound solemn.

“My governess told me that tradition and rules exist to be respected. As a southern lady, I—I must uphold Taranto’s reputation for grace and kindness, so I, as the daughter of Taranto, must set an example.”

Ariadne clicked her tongue inwardly. So the governess of the Duchy of Taranto had raised the duke’s only heir, his daughter and sole successor, like the daughter of some provincial baron.

Clearly, she’d never even approached anything resembling princely education.

Bianca’s manner of speech reeked of outdated self-help books for women—texts like *Conversation Practice for Gentle Young Ladies* or *Twelve Steps to Mastering the Waltz*—which had gone out of fashion some twenty years prior.

She likely meant no harm. According to Ariadne’s own discreet inquiries, Baroness Gianelli—the woman Duchess Caterina had chosen as governess for her daughter before her death—was loyal and diligent.

This was proven by the fact that, for the past fifteen years, Baroness Gianelli and old Viscount Gennaroso had tightly sealed off the leaderless Taranto estate and family, shielding them effectively.

As a native of Taranto herself, Baroness Gianelli had been the ideal choice to manage daily routines carefully and ensure Caterina’s daughter grew up grounded, free from frivolous airs. However, Duchess Caterina had failed to foresee her own untimely death.

Another thing Bianca’s mother hadn’t foreseen was that her husband would soon follow her in death, leaving Bianca without either a father to guide her into high society or a stepmother to support her.

Nor could she have anticipated that Baroness Gianelli and her husband’s retainer, old Viscount Gennaroso, would unite firmly against the royal court’s attempts to bring Bianca to the capital, instead keeping her tightly cloistered within Taranto’s lands.

No one could have known that immediately after their deaths, the Grand Duke of Acireto would propose to seven-year-old Bianca—unless one were a god, of course.

Because the late Duchess of Taranto hadn’t foreseen the future, her daughter ultimately grew up wearing clothes that didn’t fit her, receiving outdated, provincial ladylike education two decades behind the times, in a countryside estate overflowing only with wealth.

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