Three days later, the gates of the Brant manor opened to a procession of elegant carriages. Madeleine Arguin arrived at the head of the column, accompanied by five of her most influential friends—the daughters of the Noble Faction’s inner circle.
“Where is this party being held?” one of the ladies asked, adjusting her lace parasol. “I thought the Duchess lived in the annex.”
“In the conservatory,” Madeleine replied, her smile bright and practiced. “The Duke had it specially renovated for her.”
They were met at the entrance by an impeccably dressed servant who led them through the manor to the glass-walled conservatory. As they stepped inside, the conversation died instantly.
The greenhouse was a sixty-square-meter paradise. Mirrors were strategically angled to catch the afternoon sun, bathing the space in a soft, ethereal light that made the fruit trees and exotic flowers glow. It was a masterpiece of landscape architecture, designed to make visitors feel as if they had stepped out of the capital and into a dream.
“Is this the place the Duke built for her?” one of the ladies whispered. “It’s... it’s magnificent.”
“I heard he did it because she wanted fresh fruit in the winter,” another added. “If she weren't such a recluse, this would be the height of fashion.”
“I’m glad you find it to your liking.”
The group turned simultaneously to see Cornelia standing by a trellis of jasmine. She was dressed in a gown of deep navy silk that made her skin look like porcelain. She wore a single, understated diamond pendant that highlighted her elegance rather than overwhelming it.
She didn't look like a "crow." She looked like a sovereign.
The ladies, who had spent the morning preparing barbs about Cornelia’s "excessive" style, found themselves speechless. Even her black hair, usually mocked as a sign of ill-omen, looked like a crown of midnight.
*She’s too beautiful,* one of Madeleine’s friends thought, her envy warring with a sudden, unexpected admiration. *I thought she was a mess, but she’s... she’s perfect.*
“Is no one speaking?” Cornelia asked, a playful tilt to her head. “You were staring so intensely. Do I have something on my face?”
The ladies flinched, but Cornelia let out a soft, melodic laugh. “I apologize. It’s just that I’m so rarely complimented directly that I felt a bit embarrassed.”
The tension broke. Cornelia moved through the group with a grace they hadn't expected.
“Mrs. Schultz, I saw the engagement announcement for your daughter. My congratulations. And Mrs. Devane, I hope your father is recovering well from his fever?”
The women were stunned. The "arrogant" Princess they’d heard about—the woman who supposedly couldn't remember a name to save her life—was addressing them with the intimacy of a close friend. Within minutes, Cornelia was the undisputed center of the room.
Madeleine’s eyes darkened as she watched the scene. *These worthless followers,* she thought, her fingers digging into her fan. *I told them to be polite, not to fall in love with her.*
To Madeleine, everything in the room was a theft. The greenhouse, the title, the admiration—it all belonged to her. Cornelia was just a squatter in the life Madeleine had been promised.
“Maddy! Come join us,” Cornelia called out, her voice bright.
Madeleine stiffened. She hadn't been called "Maddy" in public since she was ten. A few of the ladies giggled behind their fans. *“Maddy? Is that her nursery name?”*
“Coming, Cornelia!” Madeleine replied, her voice tight as she joined the circle.
The conversation turned to the "Lethal Gift"—the Dowager’s herbal tea.
“The Grand Madam has been so kind lately,” Cornelia told the group, her eyes shining with "gratitude." “She had a special tonic prepared for the baby. I drink it twice a day.”
“How wonderful!” a lady exclaimed. “A mother-in-law’s care is so precious.”
Then, the talk shifted to gems—the specialty of the Arguin family.
“My father just bought me this ruby bracelet,” one of the girls bragged. “Isn't the color marvelous?”
“It’s beautiful,” Madeleine interjected, reclaiming her status. “But of course, gems are our family business. My father manages the largest mining contracts in the Empire. He often gives me first pick of the new shipments.”
Envious sighs filled the air. Madeleine preened, but she couldn't resist a final jab at Cornelia.
“Of course, not every mine is a treasure,” Madeleine said, her gaze fixed on the Duchess. “Our family has a few jade mines we haven't even bothered to exploit. Jade is... well, it’s hardly a jewel at all, is it?”
The other ladies laughed. *“Jade? It’s for commoners’ trinkets.”*
Cornelia didn't look offended. She smiled graciously. “I agree. In fact, that’s why I’m so relieved. I sold my jade mine a few days ago.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Mrs. Schultz said. “I was worried you’d be stuck with it.”
“I was happy to be rid of it,” Cornelia said, her eyes meeting Madeleine’s. “Especially since the Grand Madam didn't like the stone and the maintenance was so high. I was quite lucky—I sold it for three times the market price.”
Madeleine’s brow twitched. *Three times?*
She remembered the mine. It was supposed to be a dead asset. To hear that Cornelia had turned a massive profit on a "worthless" stone made Madeleine’s stomach turn.
*Don't let her get to you,* Madeleine reminded herself. *She’s already dead. She just doesn't know it yet.*
She needed to set the final stage of the Dowager’s plan. She needed Cornelia to agree to the shopping trip.
“But enough about mines,” Madeleine said, trying to steer the conversation. “Cornelia, you’ve been cooped up for so long. Now that the tea party has shown everyone we’re on good terms, we should really go out together. A pregnancy shouldn't be spent in a tower.”
Cornelia smiled, a look of sudden, "joyful" realization crossing her face.
“Maddy, you read my mind! I was just telling the Grand Madam that I wanted to go shopping in two days. Why don't you come with us? We can see the new silks at the merchant district together.”
Madeleine’s heart leaped. *It was that easy?*
“I would love to,” Madeleine said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “We’ll make it a day to remember.”
Cornelia raised her teacup, her golden eyes reflecting the soft light of the mirrors. “I’m sure we will.”