“Cold, icecold Miss Ice. We just need to get close again until the warm wind blows. Let’s get to know each other better, Miss de Mare.”

“You’ve made quite a lot of progress today, calling me by my name and even giving a kiss on the back of my hand, even though we are not at all close.”

“That’s not it. I’m still not quite satisfied. But as I’ve seen you after a long time, I’ll be satisfied here today.”

He paused for a moment, then threw in a word.

“You should be prepared to get really close the next time we meet.”

Ariadne replied in a mocking tone.

“Oh, how exciting. I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Is that a lewd story?”

“Count Cesare!”

“Just kidding, just kidding!”

They exchanged barbs as they headed towards the exit of the basilica. Someone on the 2nd floor balcony was watching Ariadne and Cesare’s retreating figures.

It was Prince Alfonso.

He stood motionless like a statue, watching the two figures walking away. And Princess Lariesa watched Prince Alfonso with anxious eyes.

Count Cesare finished the short meeting at the mass and lightly threw in a word.

“I’ll be sending an invitation for a partner soon, so get ready.”

It was about the royal masquerade held on the eve of the Spring Festival.

To attend the royal masquerade, a partner was needed, and objectively, Count Cesare was a very good partner. She had no excuse to reject. After all, it was true that she had received various aids from Count Cesare. Alfonso would officially be tied to Princess Lariesa, so he could not be her partner.

‘…Considering this situation, Count Cesare has applied to be a partner. What should I do?

Worried, your Ari.’

The prince’s reply was adamant.

‘I absolutely hate it.’

Alfonso was quite different after confirming each other’s feelings. Compared to the previous image that was only affectionate and gentle, he was now stubborn and possessive. This must be his innermost sincerity and personality being revealed.

‘But you see……’

He is going to attend the royal masquerade as a partner with Princess Lariesa, and yet he tells me not to go with Count Cesare.

‘That’s not fair.’

Ariadne pouted.

Alfonso insisted that she should refuse Cesare’s request to be a partner and instead assign one of his own escort knights to escort Ariadne.

But then she would have to explain why she refused Count Cesare, who is a better choice in anyone’s eyes, and became partners with a prince’s escort knight she barely knew.

It was an added burden to explain to Alfonso’s escort knight that Ariadne and Alfonso were in a secret relationship.

Ariadne replied to Alfonso, saying, ‘Let’s meet and talk later.’

‘I won’t let it slide when I see you.’

Ariadne was in her own kind of dilemma. She was serious and stressed. But if someone else saw it, they would be angry and say it was a luxury problem.

That someone else was Isabella. For the first time in her life, she was in crisis of not being able to go to the masquerade because she had no partner.

“No, no, there’s nothing!”

Isabella tossed the pile of letters on her desk onto the floor. All that was reaching Isabella now were nothing but promotional letters.

After returning from Taranto to San Carlo, Isabella had been reborn as a faithful servant of the Lord in society and sent letters to the famous nuns and monks asking for things like catechism and good books to read.

What came back were heaps of letters containing recommended reading lists, suggestions for volunteer work, and requests for donations. These kinds of letters filled Isabella’s desk.

Usually, there would have been at least a dozen personal letters arriving for Isabella.

Half of them would have been letters asking bravely to accompany ‘Miss Isabella de Mare to the upcoming ball’, and a few would have been letters subtly asking about ‘the schedule around the date of the ball’ while asking for recent news from those who didn’t even have the courage to do so.

But this time, not a single letter had come asking to take Isabella to the royal ball.

“Fools obsessed with reputation!”

Isabella grumbled roughly. What kind of men, so frightened of the world’s judgment, would shrink back like cowards! Is there really no real man who will save her, not caring about anything but love?

The only letter not included in the bundle of religious book catalogs sent from the church was sent by Ottavio de Contarini. He said he thought of Isabella after returning from Taranto to San Carlo and sent greetings suggesting they greet each other at social events when the opportunity arises.

“‘When the opportunity arises’ When!”

Isabella wanted to strangle Ottavio with a towel. The reason why Isabella was able to communicate with Ottavio was because she was friends with Ottavio’s fiancée Camellia, and they could only meet when Camellia was present, either in a group of three or more.

But now it was impossible. Because the relationship between Isabella and Camellia had irreversibly warped.

After being released from confinement, the first thing Isabella did was to open a package of letters that had arrived for her, but her father had prevented her from reading.

There were all kinds of letters. At first, there were floods of letters sent by people who had only maintained a modest acquaintance with Isabella, asking out of vulgar curiosity (‘Is the story of the Duke of Campa true?’), and later on, there were sporadic letters asking about Isabella’s wellbeing. The latter were mostly letters from the faithful Leticia de Leonati.

However, not a single letter came from Camellia de Castellione from beginning to end.

Isabella caught on right away.

‘Camellia de Castellione was either not curious about the rumors about me and the Duke of Campa that had spread.’

She gritted her teeth, furious.

‘Or she had a hand in spreading those rumors.’

There was no chance of the former. Even if Camellia had suddenly decided to shut out the gossip of society, not sending even one letter to Isabella was a silent declaration of a breakoff.

‘Cute girl.’

Isabella squeezed the pen in her hand.

Since she was no longer friends with Camellia, she could no longer find an excuse to meet Ottavio.

But wait, didn’t she still have an unused card?

“This isn’t how I intended to use it.”

Isabella took out a sheet of paper, dipped her pen in black ink, and began to fill the content in one stroke.

‘To dear Countess Bartolini, no, to sister Clemente.

I hope you’re well. Thanks to my devout deeds, it seems your home is peaceful, and I am very proud of it.

Spring has come when new buds are sprouting and all things are stretching. Wouldn’t it be the spirit of the spring festival to throw old grudges into the bonfire before the new stories boil up?

Let’s have tea together sometime. Please set aside a day.

Wishing for your wellbeing,

Isabella de Mare.’

Countess Bartolini was the real secret lover of the Duke of Campa. And she was also the sisterinlaw of Ottavio de Contarini.

“Isn’t it better to be seen hanging out with your sister than your fiancée?”

Isabella swept under her nose.