Chapter 32

To be precise, his gaze lingered on the high neckline of her dress, which wrapped gracefully around her throat, leaving not a hint of skin exposed. Of course, given that it hadn’t been long since she mourned her father’s passing, such modest attire was seen as a virtue, a mark of respect.

Others might assume Adeline’s choice of so reserved a gown was simply an expression of mourning, but Millein alone understood the true reason.

‘…Jack Hatzfeld.’

Even the name, when turned over in his mind, left a bitter taste but he paid it no heed.

Just then, the music in the palace hall swelled to a crescendo. Following the elegant steps of the dance, Adeline leaned back gracefully in Millein’s arms.

As she moved, her golden hair slipped from her shoulder and swayed gently, catching the light.

Beneath the brilliance of the chandelier, with her gaze cast sideways, she seemed almost alluring. Long lashes shadowed her downcast green eyes, while lips—usually so quick to smile—were now softly parted. A faint flush colored her cheeks, lending her an endearing charm, and the refined line of her nose added a quiet elegance to her features.

At last, as the music faded, Millein drew Adeline upright into his embrace. Then, he leaned in and whispered softly at her ear.

“Renée, I’m truly glad to be your partner tonight. All the more reason I’d be jealous if your thoughts were with another man…”

And yet, all the same.

Murmuring almost to himself, Millein drew back and offered her a gentle smile.

“I believe having a lover or two is something of a virtue.”

“…A virtue? What do you mean by that?”

Adeline looked momentarily taken aback by his words.

But Millein simply continued, unruffled.

“Exactly as I said. Isn’t a husband who can’t tolerate his wife having a single paramour rather small-minded?”

After all, most ladies of society wield their influence through their lovers. How many of the ladies gathered in this ballroom were truly without a lover?

“I, for one, think Jack Hatzfeld wouldn’t make a bad accessory, something like a brooch to keep by your side, don’t you agree?”

The moment Jack Hatzfeld’s name slipped from Millein’s lips, Adeline’s brows drew together in a faint frown. She sharply pulled her hand from his.

“How rude, Millein. I’ve never thought of Jack that way.”

“Oh? Were you actually planning to marry that man, then?”

The you I know wouldn’t entertain such a thought.

Though his words were spoken softly, almost idly, there was a hint of certainty in his tone. It was a certainty that, in truth, wasn’t unfounded.

“Think carefully. Jack Hatzfeld can’t even set foot in a place like this.”

Millein had known Adeline for well over a decade. As the one who had been closest to her and received her dearest affection, he could speak with certainty.

“You, who value the honor of House Zeller above all else, what possible reason could you have to marry Jack Hatzfeld?”

Adeline, destined to become Duke of Zeller, marrying a foreigner of dubious origins?

It was impossible.

Yet whenever Millein recalled the scene in the tearoom, he couldn’t help but feel as though he had lost something that had never truly been his. The only thing that soothed the sharp, uneasy feeling inside him—like swallowing a blade—was that single thought.

‘Adeline would never marry Jack Hatzfeld.’

It was for this very reason that he had chosen to meet her at the imperial ball. He wanted her to see, with her own eyes, the gulf that separated Jack from himself.

A foreigner like Jack could never truly be her match.

‘Whatever they might be to each other now, once her interest wanes, it will simply end.’

Only a select few could stand at her side in a place like this.

And the one truly suited to Adeline wasn’t Jack, but Millein himself.

Once more, he took her hand. She flinched slightly, a faint crease appearing between her brows, but this time, she didn’t pull away.

So Millein raised her left hand and pressed a kiss to her ring finger.

“Renée, you may have as many brooches adorning your chest as you wish. If you desire, I’ll see your jewelry box overflowing with gems.”

But the finger he pressed his lips to, Adeline’s left ring finger—

The wedding band that would one day grace that finger, Millein vowed, would belong to him alone.