It was Lucrezia who responded most positively to her daughter’s claim of innocence. Isabella took full advantage of the fact that her mother was listening to her side of the story and that no one in the family had directly witnessed the scene in question.

“I was wrong not to stop it. But I really didn’t do it!”

Lucrezia, feeling sorry for her crying eldest daughter, zealously took Isabella’s side.

“Where did Your Excellency hear such a story that you trust it more than your own daughter’s words! Don’t you feel sorry for the crying child?!”

Isabella practically buried herself in Lucrezia’s arms like a baby, sobbing loudly.

Thanks to Isabella’s fervent performance and Lucrezia’s bulging veins, the dinner atmosphere turned into a tearful mess, flowing towards the sentiment that they should believe Isabella’s claims at least once.

In the midst of all this, no one in the family could even touch the lavishly prepared feast.

As the seafood stew and truffle risotto were getting cold, Arabella, who was very hungry, secretly reached for a chicken leg dumpling but accidentally touched the seafood stew plate with her arm.

– Clang!

The seafood stew plate overturned. The red tomato seafood stew splattered messily on Arabella’s dress and the white tablecloth. Cardinal De Mare snapped at the startled Arabella.

“How clumsy! I have no appetite, no appetite at all! Ugh!”

He loudly threw his fork and knife on the table and stood up from the dinner table after eating only some pre-meal bread soaked in olive oil.

The atmosphere was a mess. Lucrezia yelled at the innocent Arabella.

“Father left because of you! You ruined my cherished tablecloth!”

And Lucrezia also took the crying Isabella into her own chamber.

Ariadne briefly comforted Arabella, who was cowering with her head buried between her shoulders like a turtle.

“It’s not your fault.”

As Arabella looked at her with wide eyes, Ariadne nodded and replied.

“Really.”

While simply wiping Arabella, who was covered in tomato soup, with a napkin, Ariadne gave a concise order to the servants who were carefully watching among the cold dishes.

“Bring the next course.”

It was foolish to let such things get to her. In tough times, one needed to eat well, rest well, and recharge for the future.

“You eat all this too before going up. Don’t miss the meat coming out soon, chew it thoroughly.”

That’s what Ariadne said as she pushed the food bowl to Arabella. Arabella obediently put the chicken breast dumplings into her mouth as instructed and chewed while looking at Ariadne.

Unlike what she told Arabella, Ariadne had barely touched the meal except for some tomatoes in the caprese salad.

“…Ari, aren’t you eating?”

“I ate lunch late.”

Ariadne replied calmly with an upright smile. Her hand trembled slightly, but it was fine.

Crying loudly as she entered her mother’s chamber, Isabella could finally open up her heart.

“Mom, do you know what that crazy b*tch Ariadne said to me?”

“What? What did she say to you?”

Lucrezia, who heard that the rolling stone had touched her jewel, flared up even before getting to the point.

“What the hell did that damn girl say?”

“Well, Mom, she said she’ll pickle me!”

Lucrezia faltered. Although she was full of enthusiasm to agree with whatever Isabella said, what she just heard seemed like she misheard it.

“Pickle?”

“Yeah!”

“Are you sure you didn’t mishear something like ‘pickled radish has a strong flavor’ or ‘pickled radish boosts courage’?”

Lucrezia asked cautiously.

“That quiet and gloomy child used such profanity?”

Isabella snapped angrily.

“You don’t believe me either? She said she’ll f*cking pickle me like a d*mn b*tch. Told me to be careful at night!”

Lucrezia had never seen Ariadne swear even once. The adopted daughter never even said a common ‘darn it’.

It was something she remembered because it was so strange for a child born from a maid’s womb and raised on a farm attached to a rural estate.

‘Well, her mother was calm too.’

Isabella was frustrated that even her mother didn’t believe her words. When she lied, everyone believed her, but now, even when she was only telling the truth, her own mother didn’t believe her!

“Mom, you really don’t believe me?! Why do you look like that? I’m telling you, that damn girl really said that!”

“No, no, of course Mom believes our Isabella. You must have been really upset.”

Although Lucrezia belatedly comforted her beloved eldest daughter with all her heart, Isabella had already realized her mother’s soullessness.

“Argh! It’s so frustrating! Damn girl, I won’t let this go! I hate you too, Mom!”

Isabella was not the only one who had to spend an unsatisfactory time with her mother. After returning to the palace from Ariadne’s ball, Alfonso gulped when he heard that Queen Marguerite had summoned him. The time had come.

Queen Marguerite had previously hinted to Prince Alfonso to be careful with his conduct as there was a marriage proposal circulating with a lady from Gallico.

Nevertheless, he had attended another lady’s debutante ball behind his mother’s back, tried to become her debutante partner but failed, and almost got into a fight with the young ladies, and all of this was witnessed by the Marquise, his mother’s closest confidant. He couldn’t even imagine what kind of harsh order would be given today.

Would Her Majesty shout at him? Would she shed tears? Prince Alfonso could endure his mother’s scolding, but he really hated his mother’s tears. It was agony.

The entangled emotions of guilt for making his mother so sad, the rebellious thought of ‘Did I really do something that wrong?’, and self-censorship were hard to bear all at once.

Pondering what awaited him, Prince Alfonso followed the servant from the Queen’s Palace who had brought the message, entering his mother’s palace with reluctant steps.

After passing through a long corridor and several rooms, he pulled aside a plain twill curtain and entered his mother’s chamber where Queen Marguerite was sitting in a single armchair waiting for him.

Queen Marguerite, who was sensitive to cold, was already stoking the fireplace. Every time the embers in the fireplace flickered, Queen Marguerite’s shadow danced erratically.

“Your Majesty. You called for me?”

“Yes, sit over there.”

Queen Marguerite firmly closed the report she was reading, placed it on the side table, and looked at her son.

“I heard you went to the debutante ball of Cardinal De Mare’s daughter.”

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

At her stubborn son’s defiance, Queen Marguerite frowned but corrected the appellation.

“Right. Ariadne.”

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

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

“Correct. Larissa de Valois. She is the one with whom a marriage proposal is currently circulating as your fiancée.”

Although it was customary for royalty to meet and marry other royalty from neighboring countries to preserve the nobility of the bloodline, church law prohibited marriage within six degrees of consanguinity.

Since Queen Marguerite was a princess from the Kingdom of Gallico, Prince Alfonso was a maternal first cousin to the current king of Gallico and his sister, the princess.

Naturally, he was in a relationship with Princess Auguste of Gallico that was prohibited from marriage by the church’s incest prohibition.

So currently, the most noble-blooded young lady that the Kingdom of Gallico could present was Lady Larissa, the daughter of the Grand Duke of Valois and an eighth cousin of the current King Philip IV.

Prince Alfonso put the half-read report on the side table next to him. He didn’t want to read the rest.

“So what?”

“Next month, a diplomatic delegation from the Kingdom of Gallico is scheduled to visit San Carlo. They will discuss specifics about your marriage proposal.”

Queen Marguerite stared intently at her son.

“What happened yesterday is in the past. I can forget about it. But while the delegation from Gallico is here, you must absolutely keep your conduct proper and ensure there are no rumors of you being close to any young lady from any household.”

At his mother’s resolute words, a look of dismay crossed Prince Alfonso’s face.

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

The queen’s face grew stern.

“Then, are you saying you’ll even marry her? There is a clear difference in status. She is illegitimate, the child of a cardinal. Well, since she’s the child of a cardinal, it doesn’t matter much whether she’s legally recognized or illegitimate. If she were at least the pope’s illegitimate child, I could send you to marry her with my eyes tightly shut. But she’s not even that, she’s a cardinal’s illegitimate child and you’re a prince, that won’t do. It’s impossible in this lifetime.”

Queen Marguerite clearly reminded her son of his position.

“You are not of the status where you can just take any woman you like and elope to live with her. You are the one and only heir to the throne of the Etruscan Kingdom. End it at this point before things get serious.”

As her son seemed to hesitate, she drove the point home.

“If you drag this out further, it will only harm the young lady. She also has a reputation and a marriageable age. If she misses the timing to marry because she’s tied to you, with whom there is no possibility of a future, that would be you doing Ariadne a great wrong.”

This time, a look of bewilderment appeared on Alfonso’s face. That was a point the prince had never thought about. Queen Marguerite paused for a moment and added out of concern.

“Stop the escorts to official events and the exchange of letters too. Being seen together will also inconvenience the other party, and giving false hope is also a great discourtesy. Act like a gentleman.”

While one faced his mother’s staunch opposition regarding Ariadne, the other had his mother’s full support.

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

“Ottavio. What methods do you use when wooing a woman who dislikes you?”

Ottavio de Contarini looked at Cesare de Como as if he had seen all sorts of strange people.

“What, the libertine of the capital is asking me how to woo a woman? How would I know what you don’t know about women?”

Cesare put out the match he was playing with and threw it into the trash can.

“I’ve never had to woo a woman. They always came to me first.”

It was an unlikable statement, but it was true. Cesare de Como was the most popular man in San Carlo. Who said young women are shy? He routinely received a flood of love letters and gifts from young ladies.

Cesare had repeatedly shattered the confidence of Ottavio de Contarini, who had to witness everything in real-time, by setting various bizarre records.

To Cesare’s question that deliberately cut Ottavio with facts as if the rich got richer and the poor got poorer wasn’t enough, Ottavio put his hand to his forehead. Cesare looked at Ottavio nonchalantly.

“Why, do I look like I’ve seen something I shouldn’t have?”

Muttering what can you do when it’s the truth, Ottavio glared at Cesare in disbelief. But he soon devised a plan for his friend.

“If you don’t know, how about starting with the basics? There’s no woman who doesn’t like flowers. But if you only bring flowers, they might dislike it for lack of sincerity. So send a gift along with the flowers. It’s a surefire method.”