you've got the wrong woman, duke! | phileo boleoti

02.

¡disclaimer: implies suicide!

♡

"ah! I'm so glad I was able to catch you, your highness," a woman with blond hair, red eyes with a vibrant red dress approaches you. waving around a fan as eye-catching as her dress was, she did a quick curtsy before haughtily waving it around some more.

here it comes.

in your heart, you cursed her a few times before giving her an elegant smile, "yes, I'm glad you're here. I apologize for not coming to your tea parties so often, countess lourde." countess vaniah lourde, one of the middle-high class ladies. those who cared nothing more than their wealth and reputation.

high enough rank to scorn others but not high enough to be matched against the likes of you.

but this common sense apparently didn't apply to this arrogant woman.

"well, it couldn't be helped that you've spent most of your life in the palace due to your weak body." how pitiful for you to be a recluse in the palace all your life.

a smirk tugs at your lips at the hidden meaning of her words, "yes, it truly is unfortunate. I've heard that you're parties are extravagant as it is filled with influential figures. so many parties one after another, how lovely. it must be tiring, no?" you've been doing nothing but partying all the time, with all that useless money being spent every other week, your husband must be working himself tired.

she does not give in, and with a low scoff, she says, "ah, how could I ever burden him? he's always working so hard. I'm very glad to have such an amazing husband. I'm afraid the princess might not be able to relate," how could I not be living such a happy life when I have a husband? why don't you stop commenting on my marriage life when you don't even have a fiance?

haha, you're even gloating?

you languidly take a champagne glass and swirl its contents slightly, taking one small sip you allow a small smile to grace your lips.

"right, it must be hard to have your husband go home so late at night. he works so hard that other women have probably seen him more than you, lady." your husband comes home late not because of work, but because he's busy meeting other women.

"y-you!"

the hand waving her fan trembles and she closes it with a snap. her face turns a light shade of red and she runs away with the excuse of freshening up. it was a well-known fact that the count was seen visiting different gambling and prostitution houses every night.

how could she walk around here knowing that her husband was a disgusting cheat? she should learn how to reign the bastard in.

well, what her married life is like is indeed not your business.

"hold my glass, will you?"

"y-yes, you're highness!"

the girl, most likely younger than you, stuttered with pink cheeks as he accepts a wine glass you were holding, it was not alcohol of course.

audrey, just beside you looked confused as you waved her off, "your highness, you're not...drunk, are you?" you shake your head and tell her you're just going to go to the balcony to get some air.

you close the curtains to signal that it was occupied and remove your heels, lift the skirt of your dress and sit on the railing of the balcony. swinging your feet slightly back and forth you stare at the garden that the empire was so proud of. the fact is that it seemed ordinary, it was repeating the same flowers and was in uniform.