Chapter 82

 

Only then did Richard release Iona’s hand and sit down comfortably.

 

He then silently gazed down at Iona’s closed eyes for quite some time.

 

For a seemingly incomprehensible amount of time, he focused intently on her without diverting his attention elsewhere, as if studying every detail...

 

“Don’t open your eyes, Iona.”

 

Richard whispered a warning. To Florence, his words sounded as if he didn’t want his true feelings to be discovered.

 

Only after making sure Iona’s eyes were closed did Richard secretly look at her, as if satisfying a long-suppressed desire.

 

That was all. Richard did not act upon any feelings or reveal his heart.

 

However, Florence wondered what other emotion, if not love, this could be.

 

She felt an urge to immediately pull Iona up and push her away from Richard’s side.

 

Or perhaps she wanted to approach Richard and confront him, asking why he was behaving like this.

 

Questioning why he had engaged her if he was going to be like this, and why, knowing her love for him, he had chosen her to fill a position in name only...

 

Of course, Florence couldn’t do any of these things.

 

Instead, she fled from the spot. Repeating to herself that she saw nothing, she ran down the forest path to return to her group.

 

The sounds of water play and the laughter of the maids effectively diluted Florence’s anxiety.

 

However, a certain thought never disappeared and remained within her.

 

From that day on, whenever Florence encountered Iona, she felt an intense surge of emotions.

 

It mostly manifested as anger, but it was composed of a myriad of feelings.

 

Jealousy and contempt, feelings of defeat and sadness, loneliness and solitude, and a slight sense of guilt for harboring resentment against an innocent person.

 

Florence knew well that Iona didn’t see Richard as a romantic interest.

 

That fact only intensified Florence’s hatred for Iona.

 

Had Iona desired Richard’s heart as much as Florence did, at least it wouldn’t have felt as unfair.

 

What Florence desperately yearned for being in someone else’s grasp, and the fact that this other person might not even realize they held it, was unbearably painful for her.

 

“I might really break off the engagement this time.”

 

Florence murmured weakly, looking down at the letter envelope in her hand.

 

It was a letter she had sent to Richard, returned unopened, in the same packaging she had sent it in.

 

Since the day she slapped Iona and was expelled from the palace, Florence had not met Richard even once.

 

She remained confined to her mansion, diligently sending letters of apology, but the response was always silence.

 

Florence was utterly exhausted.

 

Her emotional turmoil had taken such a toll that her face had become almost gaunt, and her complexion was far from healthy.

 

What made Florence most miserable was the fact that Richard likely felt no sympathy for her in such a state.

 

Biting her lip, Florence suddenly stood up with determination.

 

She set her letter on fire with a candle and threw it into the fireplace.

 

As she watched the burning embers, trying to control her ragged breathing, someone knocked on the door.

 

With an irritated tone, Florence inquired, “What is it?”

 

“Miss Florence, Lady Modrov is here to see you.”

 

Lady Modrov? Did she hear correctly?

 

For a moment, Florence doubted her own ears.

 

“...Do you mean Lady Iona Modrov?”

 

“No, it’s Miss Yvonne Modrov. It doesn’t seem like she made an appointment... Should I send her away?”

 

While it was somewhat relieving that it wasn’t Iona who came, a visit from her younger sister was equally puzzling.

 

Yvonne and Florence had only crossed paths at parties a few times; they shared no close bond. Just hearing the Modrov name was enough to make Florence’s teeth chatter.

 

Unable to fathom why the visitor sought her out, Florence furrowed her brows.

 

“...No, lead her to the drawing room for now. Tell her to wait while I get ready, and call my maids here.”

 

In the end, curiosity won over her discomfort.

 

Accepting Yvonne’s visit, Florence first summoned her maids to help her get dressed.

 

Having wanted some solitude, she had dismissed all her servants earlier, so she was alone in the room.

 

She had to first rectify her rather disheveled appearance before she could meet her guest and determine the purpose of this unexpected visit.

 

Although the maids hurried over upon being summoned, Florence took her sweet time to get ready.

 

She wasn’t the kind-hearted type to warmly welcome an unexpected visitor, especially not one as unrelated as Yvonne.

 

Moreover, if the polite guest happened to be Iona’s sister, Florence felt she had every right to be even more spiteful.

 

After spending considerably more time than usual on her makeup and attire, Florence gave herself one last glance in the mirror.

 

The face that just a moment ago looked pale and lifeless now appeared somewhat presentable.

 

Though the emotional strains and subsequent weight loss had sharpened her features, this could work to her advantage in this encounter rather than being a setback.

 

With a satisfied mood, Florence set out to greet her guest.

 

Despite the long wait, her visitor seemed steadfast and remained seated, evidently not here on a casual errand.

 

Entering the drawing-room, Florence took a seat opposite her guest without offering a greeting and immediately asked in an assertive tone, “What do you want?”

 

“I came because I have something important to discuss,” Yvonne replied, her face tense.

 

From the looks of it, she wasn’t here to pick a fight, but even so, Florence maintained a cold demeanor.

 

“I really don’t know what kind of matter would make you come to see me personally. I don’t recall us being that close.”

 

“Of course, we aren’t the best of friends, but something came up that deeply concerns you, prompting me to muster the courage to visit,” Yvonne responded.

 

“Don’t beat around the bush. I’d appreciate it if you’d get straight to the point. I’m not someone with enough leisure to waste too much time on an unexpected visit.”

 

Yvonne seemed unprepared for Florence’s direct aggression.

 

With a look of unease, Yvonne’s eyes darted around, and she then clasped her hands together, her expression one of determination.

 

“Lady Florence, do you have plans to attend the upcoming royal ball with a particular partner?”

 

Florence slightly furrowed her brow at the irksome question.

 

The royal ball. That event had already been causing Florence a great deal of anxiety.

 

Ever since the royal family announced their intention to hold a ball, a significant amount of time had passed, and she had yet to receive any word from Richard.

 

Despite this, Florence held onto a sliver of hope that Richard would contact her at the right moment. After all, as Richard’s fiancée, it was only fitting for her to attend the ball hosted by the royal palace as his partner.

 

However, why would this lady question such an obvious fact?

 

Considering who Yvonne lived with, a sinking feeling arose in Florence’s heart, as if anticipating some sinister news.

 

Sure enough, Yvonne’s next words were not far from Florence’s apprehensions.

 

“I know who the Crown Prince plans to escort.”

 

Florence’s face stiffened immediately. Barely parting her lips, she ventured a guess, “…Iona Modrov?”

 

“It’s preposterous,” Yvonne coldly replied.

 

With more anger than even Florence seemed to feel, Yvonne clenched her fist tightly.

 

She cast a fierce gaze at some point on the tea table before continuing, “It’s absurd. No matter if he’s the Crown Prince’s knight, it’s clear you’re his fiancée. To take away the position of a partner is preposterous. Especially when she herself is in ongoing marriage discussions with another man. It’s not even remotely amusing.”

--- End Of The Chapter ----

 

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