Alfonso agreed and shouted that he would go. Of course, he wasn’t particularly interested in seeing the daffodil altar.

“I had some plans. I missed you so much.”

A woman who spoke logic and a man who spoke emotions. To him, the detailed reasons for his departure from the palace were not important. The desire to meet her, that was the crux.

Alfonso stroked her hair, pushing her hair back. She laughed at his touch and rested her head on his shoulder again.

His warm scent tickled her nose. Yes, what did it matter why he had come out, when they were so close like this?

Nevertheless, Alfonso conveyed the information he had to convey.

“As for him, I have already finished the conversation with my mother.”

The last time they had spoken, Queen Marguerite had strongly urged him not to bring up this subject to Leo III without discussing it with her. Prince Alfonso had asked his mother to make a decision within a month.

Queen Marguerite had not given a clear answer yet, but the promised onemonth deadline was almost here.

He intended to ask his mother for her decision, but he was determined to talk to his father about the divorce, regardless of her conclusion.

“I’ll bear fruit soon.”

Alfonso lifted Ariadne’s chin and lightly touched her lips with his.

“At the next ball, you won’t have to fret about rejecting a partner you dislike.”

Alfonso looked into Ariadne’s eyes.

“Please wait a little longer.”

Ariadne nodded her head.

“I guess I’ll have to owe Raphael de Baldesar until then.”

With a disgruntled expression, Alfonso hugged Ariadne tightly and set a condition.

“No holding hands bare.”

“What? Why would I hold hands with him?”

“When escorting, you have to touch hands, and when dancing waltz, you have to hold hands.”

“Even that’s not allowed?”

Ariadne questioned in disbelief. Such basic escorting was something everyone did. Even married noblewomen, if circumstances required them to attend a ball with someone other than their husband, could do that much.

No suspicion of ‘being comfortable with another man’ was attached. If she refused the escort of her ball partner, everyone in the ballroom would stare at her!

“So wear gloves when you hold hands. Absolutely no bare hands.”

“Ha ha ha …….”

“Except for when dancing on the floor, don’t be alone together. Always be with several people at the same time. Absolutely no walking alone in the garden.”

“Are you jealous of a friend too?”

“If it’s a male around you, I’m barely holding back my hatred for even the fact that it has legs.”

“You’re exaggerating!”

“Shh, be quiet.”

Alfonso silenced Ariadne’s retort with another kiss.

Today, Ariadne had gone out on a pleasant surprise outing. But she wasn’t the only one enjoying the sweet outing.

‘How long has it been since I’ve been invited.’

Isabella hummed a tune while fixing the white veil on her head to prevent it from slipping. With the onset of spring, she wanted to wear a dress with wings like a damselfly, as she usually did, but instead, she chose a somber black formal attire.

In any case, Ariadne, that wench, held the family’s finances in her hands, leaving Isabella unable to afford new clothes.

‘It’s okay. Things will turn around someday.’

With Lucrezia dead, Isabella lacked the means to snatch the bag of gold coins that Ariadne was holding. Unless a stepmother appears, Ariadne will continue to manage the household.

However, when a girl grows up, she marries. She intended to become the mistress of a new house and spend its gold freely.

“Prepare the carriage. We’re going to the Count Bartolini’s house.”

She was surprised when she saw the departing carriage. The reason was that the coachmen had prepared the silver carriage, which was usually used by the cardinal and Ariadne.

‘Didn’t father stay at home today, and Ariadne left home without taking this carriage?’

Isabella frowned a little at the slightly unusual situation, but soon shrugged it off. Well, it’s nice to ride a good carriage. This was a good opportunity to let the Countess Bartolini know that she hadn’t been ostracized at home.

Arriving at Count Bartolini’s house in the silver carriage of the de Mare family, Isabella was guided to the reception room with the courteous guidance of a domestic. It wasn’t the Countess’s small reception room, but the main reception room used by the head of the family.

‘It’s formal?’

She began to doubt whether she really came to see the Countess.

‘Or… does Countess Bartolini oversee all the household affairs? Has her husband fallen and she has taken over the house?’

In that case, Countess Bartolini could have met with an extramarital man—even if her choice, Duke Campa, was quite unpalatable. If her husband was lying in bed with an illness, it would be lonely and easier to commit adultery out of his sight.

But Isabella’s guess was off.

“Isn’t this the elder Miss de Mare!”

A hoary old man with a loose gown over his indoor clothes trotted into the reception room.

“Count Bartolini.”

It was Count Bartolini, almost 40 years older than the Countess. He had met Clemente de Contarini, the current Countess Bartolini, after his divorce from his previous wife who loved luxury.

“I hope you have been well since we last met.”

He was not bedridden with paralyzed limbs, nor had he called Isabella to dig into his wife’s infidelity. The goodnatured roundfaced old man invited Isabella to sit down with a pleasant smile.

“Sit down for a bit. My wife will be here soon.”

Isabella was quite taken aback, but from a twelveyearold boy to an old man her father’s age, earning a man’s favor was the easiest thing in the world for her. She wore the most harmlesslooking smile she could muster and followed his suggestion.

“Clemente doesn’t have many visitors at home, so it’s nice to have a visitor like you today.”

He continued his gentle talk.

“Most of the people who hang out with Clemente are old ladies. I always feel sorry for her, like she lost the privilege of youth by marrying an old man like me.”

Isabella bit her tongue wanting to reply, ‘No, your wife is enjoying the privilege of youth quite well.’

“I’m grateful that a young lady like you is spending time with her.”

Isabella smiled with twinkling eyes.

“Don’t mention it. I always admire Clemente, she’s such an inspirational lady. I’ve always respected and tried to emulate her.”

The rising star of the adultery world. Yet, as lip service didn’t cost her a dime, Isabella used all the sweet words she could to shower praise on Clemente de Bartolini.

“……Ah.”

The lavish praise would make anyone blush if they heard it, and Clemente de Bartolini, who arrived late in the reception room, just stood there without uttering a word, her face flushed.

“Oh, darling. Have you come down? I’ve been taking your guest away for a moment.”

Count Bartolini quickly rose from the sofa and seated his young wife.

“Youngsters will have a lot to talk about. Please proceed with your conversation. I will now vacate my spot.”

He really did close the parlor door, and let the maid in.

While a hellish silence dominated the reception room, the countess’s maid poured the tea and simply laid out a few kinds of tea food on the table, then left. It was a luxurious reception room, decorated with various colored tulips in a celadon vase from the Moore Empire on the marble table.

Isabella broke the silence.

“Wow.”

Even on Isabella’s face, it was difficult to find any trace of criticism.

‘Having such a husband and you cheat on him? Are you even human?’