Chapter 15: Is she the Marquess Vanessa?
At the noble soirée, Nora donned a long gown, hair elegantly pinned. Regal aura flowed naturally. Maid Jenny trailed close.
“Lady Nora, ages since we met. Still stunning. Care for a dance?”
A noble lady approached, hand extended. Nora smiled faintly, brushed past, leaving her awkward.
Ages?
Who was this? Nora didn’t know.
Nor cared to.
Jenny later explained: Lady Belin. They met once at a birthday party years ago.
Belin’s failure didn’t deter others. More noble ladies pressed forward, vying to be first to dance with Nora.
Nora refused calmly at first. Then lost patience. Claimed fatigue. Escaped with Jenny to a hall corner.
Soirée etiquette: corner-sitters wished no disturbance.
Reluctantly, the hopefuls dispersed.
Pouring red wine, Nora sipped. Sighed.
“Jenny, know why I hate these events?”
“Why?”
“They’re insincere.”
She said:
“They befriend me for my face, status, family. In their eyes, I’m a tool to climb.”
“Interest-only connections—I despise them.”
Jenny stayed silent.
Her lady stood out among nobles. That very mismatch earned her the honorary duke title.
“Marquess Vanessa has arrived.”
The whisper spread. Nora’s brows furrowed.
Vanessa’s infamous reputation preceded her. Folk tales painted her vile. Now confirmed—fifteen minutes late.
One might think her the highest rank.
Looking to the entrance, Nora sought the marquess. Her eyes widened. Breath and heartbeat skipped.
She—she was Marquess Vanessa?!
Silver hair, delicate ears, that unforgettable perfect face from the market.
She was Vanessa?
Rumors claimed arrogance, cruelty.
But she risked herself saving a girl in the market. How could that match?
…Mistake?
Closer look: different dress from the market. No teardrop earrings.
Perhaps a sister?
Vanessa had no known siblings. But nobles hid bastards.
Despite the girl sitting alone in a corner—clearly uninterested—Nora rose. Walked over.
“Eh? Miss.”
Her move drew eyes. Including Belin’s.
Before the girl, Nora breathed deep. Voice tinged with excitement.
“Vanessa? Did we meet at the market?”
The girl blinked. Thought three seconds. Shook her head.
“No. This is our first meeting.”
“Is it?”
From afar, the face was unclear. Up close, Nora was 100% certain—this was the market girl.
Why deny?
A secret?
Bending, Nora extended her hand.
“Then—may I have this dance?”
Onlookers froze. Then glared hostilely at the girl. They had been rejected. Now Nora invited her…
But shock—the girl didn’t gush. She withdrew her hand, stepped back. Hesitant.
Jealousy exploded among the ladies.
Belin especially. She huffed, stepped forward. Mocking hand out.
“What? Marquess Vanessa too proud? Honorary duke invites—you decline? Or prefer us?”
Next second—her hand was grasped.
“Let’s go.”
“Eh?”
Belin blanked. Before all, the girl pulled her into the dance floor. They moved to the melody.
Realizing, Belin sneered. “Accidentally” stepped on her foot. Whispered mockery.
“Revenge like this?”
The girl seemed unfazed by the step.
“Revenge? I just think that duke is rude.”
“What do you mean?”
“You prepared much for this soirée, right? Dance steps instinctive, perfect etiquette, careful dress—all for her?”
The girl met Belin’s eyes.
“If I were her, even uninterested, I’d dance once. Not let your efforts mean nothing.”
The words stabbed. Belin’s smile vanished. She gripped the girl’s hands tighter. Teeth gritted.
“…Pitying me?”
“Of course not. I know—you don’t like that duke either, do you?”
Belin froze.
The girl continued.
“Girls from great families often can’t choose. To avoid political marriage, they strive to rise.”
“All they do—for better lives. People who treat life seriously and work hard deserve respect most, no?”
Her words silenced Belin.
She knew—the girl saw her ignored by Nora at the start.
She was avenging her.
“Hmph. Talking to yourself. My life—none of your business. You’re from a noble house too, Marquess Vanessa?”
Saying this, Belin’s steps unexpectedly slowed—to match the girl’s slight struggle.
Soon, she frowned. Realized.
“Marquess Vanessa, your dancing… not quite noble-born.”