Despite this, he attended another lady’s debutante ball secretly, intending to become her debutante partner, and almost got into a fight with the young lords, and his mother’s closest confidante, Countess Marquez, saw the entire spectacle. He had no idea what kind of wrath would fall upon him today.

Would mama scold him? Or cry? Alfonso could bear his mother’s scolding, but he really hated his mother’s tears. It was a hardship.

The guilt of making his mother so sad, the rebelliousness of “did I really do that wrong?”, and the intertwined emotions of selfcensorship were hard to bear.

Wondering what awaited him, Prince Alfonso followed the palace servant who had been sent to fetch him, with reluctant steps, into his mother’s palace.

After passing a long corridor and several rooms, and lifting the modest twill curtain, he entered his mother’s inner room to find Queen Marguerite sitting in a single comfortable chair, waiting for him.

Queen Marguerite, who was very susceptible to the cold, was already stoking the fireplace. As the embers of the fireplace flickered, Queen Marguerite’s shadow danced erratically.

“Mama, you called for me.”

“Yes, sit down.”

Queen Marguerite put down the report she had been reading with a thump and looked at her son.

“You went to the debutante ball of the second daughter of Cardinal de Mare.”

“It’s Ariadne. You know her name, mother.”

At her obstinate son’s defiance, Queen Marguerite frowned, but corrected the address.

“Yes, Ariadne.”

She picked up the report on the side table and handed it to her son. Prince Alfonso skimmed the contents.

“It’s a report on the Grand Duke of Galicia and his daughter.”

“That’s right. Lariessa de Valoa. She is currently under marriage talks as your fiancee.”

To preserve the nobility of their bloodline, it was customary for the royalty to meet with the royalty of neighboring countries and marry within the royal family, but the church law forbade marriages within six degrees of kinship.

Because Queen Marguerite was a princess from the Kingdom of Galicia, Prince Alfonso was an external cousin to the current king of Galicia and his sister, the princess.

Naturally, he was unable to marry Princess Augusta of Galicia due to the church’s prohibition on incest.

Therefore, the most noble lady that the Kingdom of Galicia could currently present was Lady Lariessa de Valoa, the second daughter of the Grand Duke of Valoa and the 8th cousin of the current King Philip IV.

Prince Alfonso put the report he had stopped reading on his side table. He didn’t want to read any more.

“But?”

“Next month, a diplomatic envoy from the Kingdom of Galicia will visit San Carlo. They will discuss the details of your marriage.”

Queen Marguerite looked straight at her son.

“Yesterday is past. You may bury it. But while the envoy from the Kingdom of Galico is here, maintain absolute decorum and prevent any talk of your familiarity with any young lady of any household.”

A trace of regret crossed Prince Alfonso’s face at his mother’s stern words.

“Mother, Ariadne is not just ‘some young lady from some household’.”

The queen’s face hardened.

“So, are you saying you’ll marry her? There is a clear difference in status. She is from a lower class, a child of the cardinal. Regardless if she’s a legitimate child or not, being a cardinal’s child makes little difference. If she were even the illegitimate child of the pope, I would reluctantly let you marry her. But an illegitimate child of the cardinal and a prince, that’s not happening. Not in this life.”

Queen Marguerite sternly brought her son back to reality.

“You are not someone who can run off with any woman you like. You are the sole heir to the throne of the Etruscan Kingdom. End it before it gets serious.”

Seeing her son hesitate, she drove the point home.

“If you keep dragging this on, it will only hurt the young lady. She has a reputation and marriage prospects to consider. If she misses her chance to marry because she is entangled with you, a person she can never possibly be with, you would be doing a great wrong to Ariadne.”

For the first time, confusion flashed across Alfonso’s face. This was a point he had never considered. Queen Marguerite paused for a moment before adding sternly,

“Stop escorting her to official events and exchanging letters. Being seen together is a nuisance to her, and giving her false hope is a great insult. Act like a gentleman.”

One of them faced his mother’s stubborn opposition to Ariadne, but the other enjoyed his mother’s full support.

The problem on this side was that he had failed to win the woman’s heart.

“Octavio. What method do you use to woo a woman who says she doesn’t like you?”

Octavio de Contarini looked at Cesare de Como as if he were a peculiar creature.

“Why on earth would you, a notorious womanizer, ask me how to woo a woman? How am I supposed to know what you don’t know about women?”

Cesare flicked out the match he had been playing with and threw it into the trash can.

“I’ve never had to woo a woman. Women have always come to me.”

It was an unlucky comment, but it was true. Cesare de Como was the most popular man in San Carlo. Who said young women were shy? Letters and gifts from young ladies flowed into him like water.

Cesare had always set various records of disbelief, shattering Octavio de Contarini’s selfconfidence, who was forced to witness everything in real time.

As if the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer were not enough, Cesare factually whipped Octavio with his question. Octavio held his forehead in his hand. Cesare looked at Octavio with a calm expression.

“What, does it look like you’ve seen something unbearable?”

How could you argue with the truth, Cesare mumbled, and Octavio gave him a look of disbelief. However, he soon began brainstorming for his friend.

“If you’re not sure, how about starting with the basics? There’s no woman who hates flowers. But if you only give flowers, they might think you’re not sincere. So, send a gift along with the flowers. It’s a sure shot.”