The Perfect Bride - Chapter 59

As the prince stared at the dock, a brief commotion broke out among the young ladies. Giggles and excited screams echoed along the promenade.

“That handsome blond navy officer… isn’t he the prince?”

“Is he looking this way now?”

“Me! I think he just looked at me! We locked eyes just now!”

“You? No way, it’s me! He’s looking at me!”

Even with his reputation plummeting thanks to the scandal, the prince remained an object of enthusiasm.

In the middle of that frenzy, Natalie, who had been musing, He must have really regretted not being able to enter the rowing competition all this time, tilted her head.

‘No… it feels like he’s looking at me?’

It wasn’t due to the self-delusion sweeping through the crowd like a fad. The prince truly did seem to be looking at her.

“Oh my! Sister! Isn’t he looking at you?”

Just then, Dorothy slapped her on the shoulder in excitement. Natalie turned to Dorothy as if to say, ‘You think so too?’, but then her eyes met Catherine’s.

Since the opening ceremony of Itman Station, things had been extremely awkward between Natalie and Catherine. Of course, it was Natalie who had been avoiding Catherine.

“…His Highness must have excellent eyesight.”

Catherine, pretending not to be flustered, curled her lips into a soft smile. Natalie responded with an awkward, flat, “I suppose so.”

“Gosh, I’m so jealous. The Duke should hurry up and come.”

Catherine fluttered her fan and shrugged her shoulders. Naturally, she didn’t actually miss Aster.

“Seeing His Highness’s reaction…”

She trailed off while gazing at the prince standing above the rippling sea in the distance.

“It seems Ian holds that young lady in special regard.”

It reminded her of a conversation she had with Aster about a month ago.

“Oh, my romantic Duke. That was the least funny joke you’ve ever made. Shouldn’t you say something a little more believable if you want me to play along?”

“Oh… judging by how serious you look, you must’ve felt the same.”

“…He’s a bit different than usual, I’ll admit, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s that kind of feeling.”

“So, it’s not love?”

“Aster, are you saying His Highness is someone who would fall in love? He only knows work.”

Though she spoke nonchalantly, her voice inevitably carried resentment.

Catherine had once been rejected by her first love, Ian.

Ian had cleanly turned down her request to become his mistress.

Had it been due to friendship with Aster or discomfort with a scandalous relationship, it might’ve remained a bittersweet memory.

But Ian rejected her because he had no interest in her whatsoever.

It may have sounded like a provocative tale of romantic intrigue, but for noblewomen who had fulfilled all their social duties, becoming the mistress of a royal man was not uncommon.

Aster, fully aware of the trivial nature of the incident, had watched Catherine’s contorted expression with fascination.

Catherine’s remaining dignity was preserved only by the fact that Ian hadn’t rejected her alone.

Ian treated anyone—woman or man—who approached him with romantic intent as nothing more than a bothersome problem.

This, in Catherine’s view, was all the fault of the lascivious Ernest II. The king ought to apologize to his son.

“Who isn’t curious about the baron’s daughter? Her background is so unusual, it’s just a momentary interest.”

“Who knows.”

Aster had ended the conversation with a sly smile, seemingly trying to provoke her, and she had glared at her husband, denying reality with effort.

That conversation ended up wounding Catherine’s lofty pride.

It was the reason the Duchess, admired by all, behaved unbecomingly with a fit of jealousy during the Itman Station ceremony.

Catherine later apologized to Natalie once more, but words already spoken were hard to take back.

Watching the prince spot the baron’s daughter from afar only made the memory of that ceremony more embarrassing. Catherine suppressed a groan and forced herself to smile more gracefully.

“…A surprise visit has turned out to be quite the success. Ladies, shall we go down and greet him now?”

***

Rushing, Ian ended up getting soaked while disembarking from the race boat. The soldier holding the colonel’s uniform coat blinked in surprise as he saw Ian stumbling.

Ian paid it no mind. Whether water dripped from him or his clothes clung to his skin, he quickly took the coat and roughly swept back his wet hair as he hastened forward.

It had already been three days since he’d last spoken with her.

Ian ran. Just like that time when he had dashed madly across the Horace garden.

And as soon as he stood before Natalie, he bent down and kissed the back of her hand.

At that very moment, the pupils of the soldiers lined up behind them shook violently.

As described in the gazette—chestnut hair, pale-looking white skin.

The woman whom the colonel dashed to and kissed without hesitation, it had to be ‘that woman.’

Even just seeing the real face of the oft-gossiped baron’s daughter was a huge topic, but the way Prince Ian—no, Colonel Ian—treated her was beyond ordinary.

‘Good heavens. If things keep going like this, will the country really fall apart like the papers says?’

It was both astonishing and disheartening.

Unconcerned with his subordinates’ curiosity or despair, Ian escorted Natalie and calmly disappeared. Three women followed behind them at a measured distance.

***

Each time she took a step, she encountered saluting soldiers, missing several chances to speak, until finally, Natalie said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your training. I certainly didn’t intend to enter the base like this either. Is this really okay?”

“Not at all. But surely, the idea to come this far wasn’t yours.”

As if such a thing didn’t matter, Ian smirked softly and murmured. Rather, he looked quite pleased with the surprise visit.

Though she felt self-conscious roaming a military base as an outsider, she was glad to be welcomed like this. Natalie followed him, smiling faintly, and replied playfully, “Why do you think that? It could have been my idea. I told you I’d do my best.”

“Are you saying you deliberately chose to draw this much attention? Don’t lie.”

With a playful furrow of one brow, he even paused mid-step and laughed, showing his teeth.

“……”

Soaking wet, he resembled a boy who had just come from playing in the water. It struck her again, how well he matched the sea.

“…But really, why were you in such a hurry?”

Natalie’s gaze naturally moved from the droplets on his long eyelashes to his lips, jaw, and wet chest.

“You’re soaked again.”

Why were all his buttons undone like that? Was he exercising or something? His body looked beautiful. Was his chest bigger than hers? Those blunt impressions had already come to an end some time ago.

Her mind had entered the realm of infinite imagination.

Her line of sight was right at his chest anyway. So Natalie comforted herself, insisting this was only natural.

Ian took note of Natalie’s face as she suddenly fell silent. It was that odd expression she sometimes wore when deep in thought.

This time, though, her gaze was accurate…

‘…Where is this woman looking?’

Having momentarily forgotten he was drenched, Ian was flustered by the burning gaze directed at his chest.

But only for a moment. Then, mischief rose up in him.

“Isn’t that a bit too much staring?”

Ian crossed his arms to cover his chest and deliberately lowered his voice seductively.

Perhaps not entirely out of it, Natalie slowly lifted her gaze. Blue eyes and reddish-brown eyes met in midair.

“Ah… I mean, I’m sorry.”

Natalie’s face flushed with embarrassment. Flustered, she muttered to herself, ‘Your body was just exactly how I imagined it.’

Ian silently scoffed. Yet surprisingly, her pervy behavior didn’t feel unpleasant.

“Y-you’re very beautiful.”

Whether it was a clumsy recovery or sheer boldness, Ian’s lips finally parted wide in astonishment. He murmured, truly taken aback by Natalie’s audacity, “Did you just harass me?”

Harassment. Saying his chest was beautiful, technically, that was sexual harassment.

Natalie’s lips parted blankly. Realizing her offense, she quickly turned her head and fumbled for an excuse.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable, Your High—no, Ian.”

“Good grief. So…”

When Ian trailed off with a deeply shocked expression, Natalie rolled her eyes up to read his mood.

“Every time you wore that serious and solemn expression, were you actually picturing what I looked like under my shirt?”

I thought you were really troubled by something important. Honestly, she’s so bizarre.

He wore a flawless expression of horror, yet his eyes sparkled with mischief.

Natalie noticed it. This man is teasing me again.

“No!”

She shouted, a bit defensive. She hadn’t imagined taking his clothes off, so she could deny it with confidence.

Ian, unaffected, muttered as if playing the tragic hero, “…I forgot you’re a pervert.”

“Ian, that’s enough.”

“It’s nerve-wracking, thinking I’ll have to share a carriage with a pervert. Where’s the carriage?”

“I said stop.”

Natalie, face red, tried to look serious, but it didn’t work. Ian, chuckling meaninglessly, glanced around and soon found the carriage marked with the Valderma crest.

“Ah, there it is.”

Natalie, about to object that she wasn’t a pervert, hesitated.

“But why are you looking for the carriage?”

“Weren’t you here to pick me up?”

“Is it really okay for you to return like this?”

The two of them exchanged bewildered looks, as if they were speaking entirely different languages.