Lady Class - Chapter 29

It was a substance Kahn could never mistake.

It was the same aphrodisiac his grandfather had once tried to force on him—to turn him into nothing more than a stud horse.

“If it was used, the bottle should be empty.”

“The first and second bottles were empty.”

“…She took the aphrodisiac?”

Shocked, Kahn recalled their first night together.

He had arrived late at the villa. Familiar with its layout from past visits, he had informed the annex staff of his arrival and gone straight to the room he had previously stayed in—without waiting for Brand’s guidance.

And then, she had appeared. Body flushed, eyes hazy with desire.

The second night, he had found her in the kitchen—alone, touching herself.

“…Could it have been intentional?”

The mere thought made his head spin. He shot up from his seat, grabbing Brand by the collar. His expression darkened.

“When did Walidon Harverden learn I was coming here?”

“You already know the answer. We only received word from him the following day—after you had arrived. The young lady came first; we assumed she was expecting someone, but in reality, she had simply mistaken the villa.”

“That’s right. I only told Harverden I’d be borrowing the villa that afternoon before coming straight here. No one else knew my whereabouts. The only ones aware of my arrival were Harverden and myself.”

Kahn referred to Walidon Harverden by his surname alone, a habit formed from their academy days.

“The young lady arrived in the afternoon, so if she had traveled from the capital, she must have left by dawn at the latest.”

Brand, anticipating Kahn’s concern, was quick to defend Rackley.

“At that hour, I was still at the inn.”

“Are you suggesting the young lady sought out the Duke on purpose?”

For the first time, Brand’s calm voice carried an edge of irritation.

Kahn rapidly pieced together the timElene.

He had only awakened at midday, the lingering effects of the drug still dulling his senses. Until that moment, he had not planned to visit Harverden’s villa.

It had been a chance encounter—he happened to run into Harverden nearby and made a spontaneous decision.

If Rackley had truly come knowing he was Duke Lascarton and deliberately set out to seduce him, the timing didn’t align.

The southern villa district wasn’t close to the capital. How could she have possibly known he would be there?

“…No. If that were the case, she wouldn’t have made me clean the waterways.”

Rackley had treated Brand and Maggie with respect, but naturally regarded them as servants—assigning them tasks as any noble lady would. And she had treated Kahn the same way.

She had given him orders.

If she had known he was a duke, there was no way she would have done that.

Kahn suddenly felt an urgent need to question her. To find out the truth.

But he couldn’t. Not now.

Not after she had left.

Not when he had already decided that he should never stand before her again.

“Damn it.”

Kahn swallowed a curse and released Brand’s collar. Feeling guilty for his misplaced anger, he patted the butler’s shoulder lightly.

The heat of the approaching summer was beginning to settle in, making the villa uncomfortably warm.

“You’ve worked hard, especially for someone who doesn’t even belong to this household. Get some rest.”

Brand’s stiff expression softened slightly. Seeing this, Kahn smirked mischievously.

“You and the young lady got along well. Perhaps this was fate, don’t you think?”

“…No. Absolutely not.”

Kahn firmly dismissed Brand’s romantic notions.

“It’s impossible. I have no intention of marrying, and I will never have children.”

The image of Rackley’s gentle expression flickered in his mind—her voice as she had described her ideal man.

A man who was devoted to his family. A man who would love his children.

Those were things Kahn could never give her. Marriage. A family.

If he truly wanted her to be happy, he could never see her again.

Yet, despite that resolve, his brow remained deeply furrowed.

“The carriage?”

“It has returned.”

“Prepare it. I’m going back to the capital.”

***

[Predicted Honeymoon Destinations for Duke Lascarton and Princess Iellia]

[A List of Gifts Princess Iellia Received from Duke Lascarton]

[The Passionate Love Story of Duke Lascarton and Princess Iellia]

The capital was overflowing with gossip about Duke Lascarton and Princess Iellia.

The front pages of newspapers at the stands were dominated by reports of their outings and the gifts they exchanged. Shop windows were plastered with advertisements boasting products “worthy of the Duke’s taste,” while a dessert shop proudly displayed a sign reading: “A cake specially crafted to earn Princess Iellia’s highest praise.”

Though no official engagement or wedding had been announced, the city was abuzz as if the union were imminent.

As the daughter of a count, Rackley was also of prime marrying age, and an engagement with a duke was not unthinkable. However, unlike powerful noble houses, the Winner family lacked its own estate.

Marriage among the nobility was a matter of alliances.

Even engagements involved extensive documentation and negotiations. For a marriage to be arranged, both parties had to offer something of value. And the Winner family had nothing to offer the ducal house.

Not that she had ever expected such a match to be possible—such a thing was the kind of fairytale that only existed in storybooks.

Reading the scandalous reports made the journey back to the capital less tedious. It also provided a much-needed distraction from thoughts of Kahn.

At last, the carriage pulled up before the Winner estate.

Standing at the entrance, the butler, Jean, greeted her warmly.

“Did you enjoy your trip?”

“Yes, it was nice. I had a good rest.”

“You look well, my lady.”

Thinking it was mere flattery, Rackley responded with a smile.

But Jean, the butler, meant it sincerely.

Something about her had changed.

Having watched her grow up, Jean regarded Rackley as a granddaughter. She had always seemed like a child struggling against an invisible current, weighed down by burdens far beyond her years.

But now, he found his gaze lingering on her. There was a newfound charm about her—something softer, freer.

Stepping down from the carriage, she had let her hair down instead of wearing it in its usual, neatly pinned-up style. It made her look fresher, almost youthful in a way he hadn’t seen before.

Perhaps it was because she was no longer carrying the weight of running the household on her shoulders, but she seemed… at ease.

As Rackley walked toward the estate, she asked,

“The mistress?”

“She is attending a Rose Society gathering for the Melrotz Orphanage Bazaar.”

“And the preparations for the banquet?”

At the mention of the event—one meant to formally introduce Rowinda as the new Countess—Jean hesitated before replying cautiously.

“…Madame Bue is overseeing them.”

“Oh. Madame Bue?”

Rackley lightly bit her lower lip before releasing it.

‘Would that be alright?’

Madame Bue was a well-known figure in high society.

With extensive connections and influence, many noble families sought her services when hosting grand events. However, hiring her meant relinquishing all control over the planning—resulting in an extravagant affair that cost at least twice as much as a banquet arranged by the household itself.

For that reason, most families only employed Madame Bue when they had a specific goal in mind for the event.

‘Does Father not know?’

Something like this couldn’t happen without the Count’s approval. Though recent investments had slightly improved the family’s finances, they were still managing on a tight budget.

Worry clouded Rackley’s expression as she thought about the upcoming banquet.

“Can’t we leave Madame Bue out of this?”

A voice rang out from behind her.

Rackley turned to see Rowinda stepping into the entrance hall, draped in a plush pink fur stole—despite it being summer.

Her sharp gaze locked onto Rackley with thinly veiled irritation.

“My lady.”

“Address me properly, Rackley. Have you already forgotten the Count’s words? I am now the Countess, and whether you like it or not, I am also your mother.”

Rackley regarded Rowinda with renewed clarity.

Was she always like this?

With her chin lifted in a mocking smirk, Rowinda seemed like nothing more than a child standing on tiptoes, desperately trying to appear taller.

When Rackley remained silent, merely observing her, Rowinda’s voice rose with frustration. Unlike before, there was no trace of fear or hesitation in Rackley’s gaze.

Rowinda, still seething from the disdain she had suffered at the Rose Society, turned her resentment toward Rackley.

“I wonder what kind of education the former Countess gave you. You truly have no sense of propriety.”

In full view of the servants gathered at the entrance, Rowinda reprimanded her stepdaughter, completely unaware—or unconcerned—about how such a scene might appear.

Servants were quick to gossip, often mingling with those from other noble households. That was why Rackley’s mother had always made sure to meet with newly hired staff, building loyalty with small gestures and occasional financial incentives to ensure their discretion.

That was how the family’s reputation was maintained.

But did Rowinda possess the grace and awareness of a true mistress of the house?

She was only tarnishing her own standing as she continued, heedless of the consequences.

“Well, of course. Your mother left for convalescence so early—how much care could she have really given you? I suppose I should be understanding.”

Her words were calculated to wound. It was so obvious that Rackley almost pitied her.

Had she faced the ladies of the Rose Society acting like this?

Rackley could already picture how those women, proud of their refinement and status, must have treated Rowinda. The thought nearly made her sigh.

“Do we have the funds to hire Madame Bue?” Rackley asked, her voice measured. “The last time I reviewed the ledgers, the household budget was tight. Was there surplus money?”

Rowinda’s face lit up, her lips curling into a triumphant smile.

“Oh, you didn’t know? As soon as I arrived at the estate, the Count’s investment in the Lava Trading Company began yielding enormous profits. He even said I must have brought him good fortune. He was so pleased that he gave me permission to do as I wished.”

Startled, Rackley turned to Jean for confirmation. The butler looked just as pleased, which told her it was true.

“Father is truly remarkable. It’s impressive, really… But—oh, dear, I suppose there’s no need for you to worry about such matters anymore, is there?” Rowinda’s tone turned saccharine. “The numbers in the ledgers are quite different from when you were managing things.”

As if to prove her point, Rackley noticed the entrance hall had changed in the short week she had been away.

New, expensive decorations adorned the walls, along with paintings she didn’t recognize—fine works, no doubt, but luxuries nonetheless.

Even if our income has increased, is it really wise to spend so freely?

It was clear the Count had little knowledge of how the banquet was being arranged. He likely had no idea who Madame Bue was, nor the kind of extravagant expenses her involvement would demand.

Rackley suppressed a sigh.

“The estate is now my responsibility as Countess. Do you have anything else to say?” Rowinda asked, her voice dripping with self-satisfaction.

“No,” Rackley replied simply. Then, after a pause, “Where is Father?”

“In his study,” Jean answered.

But before he could finish, Rowinda cut in sharply, her expression turning sour.

“The Count is very busy these days, Rackley. Do not disturb him.”

“I’ve just returned home. It’s only proper that I greet him.”

Rowinda’s brows knitted together in irritation.

“I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was raised without manners, after all.”

Without waiting for a response, Rackley turned and made her way to the Count’s study.