To My First Love, With Regret (Libenia) Chapter 3

The duke, who had come to fetch his daughter for lunch, was left speechless the moment he saw her.

He’d never expected her to dress up just to impress the sons of noble families. Not that his daughter needed embellishment in the first place—Evelyn was already beautiful enough to turn heads without trying.

But to drape that radiant beauty in mourning black?

The dress covered her from neck to toe, even hiding her hands despite the suffocating summer heat. It looked less like fashion and more like funeral attire.

Was she mourning her freedom in advance—before this marriage could bury it?

“I decided to honor those outdated family traditions that insist women don’t belong in universities,” she replied coolly. “So I dressed to match them. Is there a problem?”

“Sometimes you’re even more poisonous than Harry.”

“Only sometimes? Then I’ll have to try harder.”

“What a temperament…”

The luncheon was being held on the second-floor balcony. By the time the duke and Evelyn entered the hall leading outside, the young noblemen waiting on the sofas rose at once to greet them politely.

Only Harry remained sprawled lazily across the couch like a drunkard. The moment he noticed the maid following behind Evelyn, a crooked grin spread across his face.

“Becky, long time no see. You’ve really grown into a woman.”

Evelyn’s eyes sharpened instantly at the ominous greeting.

“But why are you here instead of welcoming your brother back on that rotten carriage?” Harry continued mockingly. “I just saw him dragging himself all the way up the cliff road on foot, sweating to death under the sun.”

“What? Already? He said he’d arrive in the evening…”

Becky looked startled and turned anxiously toward Evelyn.

“You may go.”

The maid bowed quickly and hurried away after receiving permission.

That pretty young maid was Ethan Fairchild’s younger sister.

The sons of noble families openly followed her retreating figure with their eyes. Only after she disappeared did they notice Evelyn watching them coldly. Her strange, striking eyes brimmed with contempt.

They would probably mistake it for jealousy—assuming she was offended that they’d dared admire another woman in her presence.

How arrogant.

Don’t even think about looking at that child.

How could men destroy all the dignity they’d painstakingly built with wealth in a single glance and reveal such vulgar instincts so easily? Becky was like the sister Evelyn had never had. She refused to let men like them toy with her.

“Lady Evelyn.”

One of those vulgar hounds approached her.

The man bowed courteously and reached for her hand, but allowing his lips to touch her skin would’ve felt no different from enduring harassment.

Evelyn turned away coldly, ignoring him completely as she stepped onto the balcony after her father.

The duke didn’t scold her.

On the contrary, the corners of his lips curved upward in satisfaction.

The crown prince of a minor kingdom. The prime minister’s eldest son. The heir to a Colombian tycoon.

All of them were considered impressive young men, but because Harry hated associating with anyone superior to himself, every one of them came from families ranked below House Kentrell.

Besides, the duke disliked it when Evelyn behaved too approachable toward men. Distance increased value. That was the foundation of trade.

Of course, Evelyn had no intention of “raising her worth.”

So her coldness persisted throughout the meal.

From the balcony, the blue sea shimmered beyond rows of cypress trees without obstruction. Guests visiting for the first time were always entertained here.

“House Kentrell has truly built paradise on earth.”

The usual tiresome compliments filled Evelyn’s ears.

“That dazzling color of the sea… If the greatest painter alive attempted to capture it on canvas, he’d probably snap his brush in despair.”

That one, at least, was somewhat original. Enough to spark the competitive spirit of an ambitious young artist.

“On clear days, you can see Lavinia across the sea with the naked eye.”

“The birthplace of the wine I brought today, haha.”

“And I assume it reached you through our port at Cliffhaven?”

“Ah, of course. Then it seems we already share a connection, Duke.”

Evelyn barely participated in the conversation, which amounted to little more than a contest of boasting. She simply lifted her wineglass while gazing at the familiar scenery.

“It seems Lady Evelyn enjoyed the wine I brought.”

“….”

“Do you like wine?”

“Out of everything here, it’s the only thing I find agreeable.”

A compliment wrapped around an insult.

You’re all beneath me.

Anyone foolish enough to befriend Harry Sherwood Jr. automatically failed in her eyes.

Since everyone at the table understood the true meaning behind her words, an awkward silence settled over the balcony.

Only Harry laughed.

“You idiots,” he sneered, “if you want points with the princess, talk about university life. That’s the only thing that gets her attention. Her eyes start sparkling like, ‘Wow, university is amazing! Students are so cool! I wanna go too…’”

“Harry, it seems you’ve forgotten what kind of person your sister is,” the duke said sharply. “That sounds nothing like Evelyn.”

He openly glared at his son for lowering his daughter’s “value,” but once Harry started talking, nobody could stop him.

“Still sulking because Father won’t let you attend university, Eve?”

He smirked at her furious expression.

“My sister’s exactly the kind of woman who belongs in university.”

That wasn’t a compliment.

“‘Why can men go but women can’t?’”

Harry mimicked a shrill female voice, mocking women students.

“‘I scored better than him, so why is my grade lower? This is unfair! Wah wah wah.’ Pathetic.”

“Perhaps their fathers didn’t buy their grades for them,” Evelyn replied icily.

“Eve, you’re just as talented as your brother when it comes to inventing nonsense.”

Inventing nonsense?

But Evelyn didn’t push the argument further in front of his friends. She’d already gone far enough by indirectly accusing him of academic fraud.

Unfortunately, Harry lacked the sense to stop once he crossed the line.

He abruptly jumped to his feet, spreading his arms dramatically.

“Gentlemen gathered here today!” he announced loudly. “Today’s auction item is Lady Evelyn of House Kentrell! She seeks a husband willing to send her to university in exchange for marriage. Starting bid—one son!”

Even his degenerate friends looked horrified this time.

“No takers?”

“Father,” Evelyn said coldly, “are you truly satisfied watching me sit here and endure humiliation instead of enjoying my life in Tripiti?”

“Harry. Sit down and shut your mouth immediately.”

That was all the duke said.

If Evelyn complained later, he’d undoubtedly excuse himself by claiming he couldn’t embarrass the heir of House Kentrell in front of his peers.

So Harry’s pride mattered.

But hers could be trampled into the dirt.

The Duke of Kentrell had always been like this. Harsh on the surface toward his only son yet endlessly indulgent underneath. Loving and affectionate toward his daughter outwardly, while controlling every aspect of her life beneath the surface.

“Kitten.”

What a lie.

I’m nothing more than a bonsai tree to be sold to the highest bidder someday.

A decorative object carefully cut, twisted, and shaped into whatever form men found most desirable.

“Lady Evelyn.”

Trying to ease the atmosphere, the prime minister’s son smiled politely.

“What would you like to study at university?”

Naturally, Harry answered before she could.

“She wants to become some kind of painter.”

“An artist? How wonderful.”

“If it wouldn’t be too presumptuous, would you honor us by showing us your paintings someday?”

“Thank you for the offer,” Evelyn replied calmly, “but I’ll be leaving soon, so that may be difficult.”

“What? Running away from home to attend university? Do you even have the money for that?”

“She’s going to the Halkidiki Peninsula.”

The answer came not from Evelyn, but from the duke.

“It seems a professor from the Royal College of Art was deeply impressed by Evelyn’s work. He invited her to join the students on their sketching trip this summer.”

Wasn’t he against that trip?

Now he was suddenly allowing it?

“You mean… I can go?” Evelyn asked carefully.

“Of course.”

She couldn’t understand why he’d changed his mind so suddenly, but permission was permission. The mere fact filled her heart with joy.

“That’s an excellent path as well. One doesn’t need a university degree to become an artist. The world itself is the greatest teacher.”

“Most of the great painters who left masterpieces behind never graduated from university.”

Evelyn had never said she intended to marry any of them, so why were they already trying to discourage her from pursuing higher education the moment an opportunity appeared?

“Exactly. What difference would art school even make?” Harry scoffed. “She’d just paint the same things every day. Ah—but wait! There’s nude model practice there too!”

The vulgar topic instantly straightened his posture. He leaned toward Evelyn with a grin that promised trouble.

What insane thing is he about to say now…?

“You can just ask Ethan Fairchild for help with that.”