The Perfect Bride - Chapter 29

“That young lady from earlier wasn’t silent because she had no thoughts.”

Of course, Natalie knew Ian hadn’t said that out of genuine ignorance. It was likely an instinctive remark, like saying, “The sky is blue.”

But once Natalie’s mouth opened, it didn’t close so easily.

“A lady must always be silent. Always quiet and modest, and never act or speak on impulse. Thoughts are usually too emotional and impulsive, after all.”

Women, by nature, are overly emotional and impulsive. So don’t think deeply—just smile gracefully.

“That’s what we’re taught.”

It was probably the same for that young lady. What ladies must learn is all the same.

Their eyes met.

Natalie’s gaze was lukewarm. Like ash long cooled after a blazing fire.

That’s why she could say these things in a voice devoid of emotion.

“If she can’t even ask a gentleman to dance at a ball, maybe you’re starting to grasp a bit of what it’s like to be a lady?”

Even saying it herself caused no sting.

“There’s not even a choice to make. We just wait to be chosen. So even you…”

Natalie looked at him with dry eyes and continued, “Wouldn’t be able to storm off.”

It’s always dangerous and premature to speak in absolutes. But even you—surely you’d be no different.

A memory from three years ago suddenly surfaced. She let out a hollow laugh.

“It’s best not to try. In my experience…”

A long-held self-mockery. It tasted bitter.

A moment of silence hung between them.

Lost in her tangled feelings, Natalie drew a slow breath, then suddenly came to her senses.

‘Oh no. What am I saying to a prince?’

She looked at his face.

That angelic face that always wore a faint smile now held none.

Not good. She quickly lowered her head.

“I overstepped. I’m sorry.”

“……”

Ian didn’t speak easily. He couldn’t.

She reminded him of the day she stood in court. Though much had changed, there was something strangely familiar.

Oddly enough, the first thing he felt was relief. That she still spoke her mind like a warrior. That every word she said was right on the mark.

It snapped him back to reality. A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Next, and selfishly, he felt relieved. Maybe because of his guilt and pity toward her, it comforted him to see she hadn’t changed.

But at the same time, her tone and expression hinted at the abyss of the past three years, and that hit him hard.

He feared she might be swallowed by it for good.

Weighed down by conflicting emotions, Ian took time to choose his words.

In the end, he realized the first thing he should do was apologize.

“I owe you an apology.”

Ian bowed his head respectfully.

“What I said earlier was careless. As you put it, it was dull and meaningless.”

Natalie was startled.

She hadn’t expected sympathy, much less understanding. And he wasn’t just any gentleman—he was royalty.

She’d unconsciously assumed he would always keep his chin up no matter what. Shamefully so.

She vaguely remembered hearing that royalty should not bow their heads lightly.

“I didn’t say it expecting an apology.”

Natalie waved her hands as if to stop him.

“I just blurted it out because I felt stifled. It’s a bad habit.”

“As a lady?”

“…Yes. That’s right.”

Natalie fidgeted with her fingertips awkwardly. She felt exposed, uneasy after revealing too much too fast.

‘From now on, I’ll keep my answers short.’

She vowed silently, turning quickly.

“Shall we get back to work?”

Without waiting for his reply, she briskly led the way.

Ian watched her retreating figure, then called out.

“Do you regret it?”

Natalie stopped instinctively and turned back to him.

Regret what? She wondered briefly, but quickly understood.

“…When I think of the people around me, of course.”

“Is it only regret?”

Only regret? Natalie asked herself.

“…Well. At least when I was writing…”

She muttered without thinking, then abruptly shut her mouth and looked at him.

To her surprise, he was smiling.

“You don’t need to apologize either.”

Ian caught up to her in two steps.

“I don’t need a perfect bride.”

He extended his arm like a gentleman offering an escort.

“So go ahead and speak your mind.”

Natalie blinked, stunned.

Ian whispered, “Shall we go?”

Natalie looked at him as if he were something strange, then hesitantly linked her arm through his.

Ian smiled at her and confidently led her out of the room.

Staring at him, Natalie had no time to hesitate. Then, suddenly aware of all the eyes on her, she quickly straightened.

The exhibition hall was filled with whispers, gasps, and blatant gossip.

Natalie, dazed, muttered under her breath, “…The reason you’re going this far, it’s all because you don’t want the throne, isn’t it?”

Even so, was this really right?

Ian leaned in with a soft smile and whispered to Natalie, “Because I want something different. Because I dream of being Ian Astiers, not the king.”

At that strange sense of déjà vu, Natalie’s steps gradually slowed. Ian matched her pace.

“Is that not enough?”

Their eyes met, and the two came to a complete stop.

Natalie moved her lips as if in a trance. “…No. That’s the clearest, most certain reason of all.”

Then the prince’s face lit up with another radiant smile.

Natalie’s eyes were again drawn to that sight.

“I’m glad you said that.”

As he spoke, he gave a gentle squeeze to the arm linked through his.

“Then will you help me even more from now on?”

The way he smiled so sweetly as he asked made Natalie nod before she realized it.

Behind the pair, worried murmurs lingered in their wake.

***

Who is Natalie Daus?

Natalie Daus, daughter of Baron Warfield. Pen name: David.

Anthony Gorton, prosecutor at the Central Criminal Court and newly appointed Earl with a seat in the House of Nobles, crumpled the newspaper in his hand the moment he saw that name he had barely managed to forget, and flung it onto the carpet.

“Shameless woman.”

His red face twisted with fury as he shouted.

In Anthony’s eyes, most ladies lacked propriety. Perhaps it began when the indecent waltz started trending. Bit by bit, the world deviated from the rules he once knew, and he felt it crumbling.

Then that pale woman came along and utterly shattered it. Natalie of Warfield, who had surely sold her soul to some lascivious demon.

In his twenty years as a prosecutor, it was clear to him—Natalie, who had trampled the honor and morality of ladyhood into the depths of hell, was guilty beyond question.

He even feared that his wife and daughter might fall victim to the same moral decay and disorder of the present age. That’s why, if anything, it was time to use that madwoman as a public example and restore the crumbling order of society.

Such was Anthony Gorton’s sense of duty.

But three years ago, justice was ripped from his grasp. Just before the verdict, the presiding judge and jury seemingly became different people and declared Natalie Daus not guilty.

After that, he fought harder than ever, challenging the court’s decision. All it earned him was a private meeting with the head of the House of Nobles.

“Let the David case rest here, Sir Gorton.”

Someone had clearly pulled strings.

The greatest disgrace of his prosecutorial career was being defeated by a tearful, ill-mannered girl who couldn’t do anything but sob and sniffle.

Anthony glared coldly at the crumpled newspaper he had tossed aside.

“Prince Ian, huh…”

Then narrowed his eyes and began slowly tapping the desk with his fingertips.

Come to think of it, Natalie Daus’s trial had ties to the royal family. More specifically, to Prince Ian’s reputation.

If one thought of that indifferent prince, who always stood a step behind and never showed interest in anything, the idea seemed absurd.

But what if the one who had pulled strings in that trial three years ago had been Prince Ian? If so, why?

Why was he now pursuing that madwoman every single day?

Anthony slowly bent down and picked up the crumpled newspaper.

His twenty years of experience as a prosecutor told him one thing: Prince Ian was up to something. Something that would disturb the order.

***

“Ian must truly be mad.”

Violet, seated perfectly upright and staring into the void, muttered quietly.

“Ignoring my summons and going off to meet that young lady at the Horace estate again, he must be insane.”

It had been a week since the Duchess of Horace’s ball. Prince Ian was now the talk of the town for chasing after Baron Warfield’s daughter without fail each day.

Charlotte, seated across the tea table from Violet, gently set down her teacup.

“Otherwise, our kind, sweet Ian wouldn’t behave like this…”

“Pfft.”

Violet’s brow furrowed deeply at Charlotte’s sudden, unfiltered laugh. Her sharp, blue eyes fixed on her daughter, who provoked her at every turn.

“Oh my. Apologies, Mother,” Charlotte said, not looking the least bit sorry.

“Really… You’re behaving disgracefully just to spite me, aren’t you?”

“Perish the thought.”

“……”

Violet knew the truth.

When she gave birth to Charlotte and Ian, she believed she had birthed angels. But it didn’t take long to realize her children were far from kind and innocent.

Especially Ian. He would hide behind Charlotte whenever she caused trouble, playing the sweet, innocent child—only to stir up trouble himself just when everyone forgot about it. After reaching adulthood, he had been quiet for so long, she’d nearly forgotten.

“I’m truly unlucky. All three of my children are a trial.”

Charlotte, who had answered her mother’s call for the first time in ages, only shrugged indifferently.

“Who said men shouldn’t see women? What man in this country has a spotless private life? They’re all slaves to their lower desires.”

“You’re right, of course. Edward and Ian were both oddly tame. It’s no wonder rumors spread that they were romantically involved with each other.”

Violet glared coldly at her tactless daughter. But as always, Charlotte remained unfazed.

“Still, this’ll put those rumors to rest nicely…”

“Mind your tongue, Charlotte.”

Fearing for her mother’s health, Charlotte wisely shut her mouth and quietly sipped her tea. Violet, still glaring, pressed her fingers to her forehead in an effort to calm herself.