The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 109

“Auntie…”

 

It had been half a year since she had seen her auntie face-to-face, having exchanged only correspondence and brief greetings when they had met at banquets.

 

Evangeline still exuded a tremendous sense of intimidation as she stood there, her face cool.

 

“You made quite a scene.”

 

Artia recognized the meaning in Evangeline’s short words.

 

She must be referring to Freesia’s trial.

 

“Social circles are all about the Countess Elysium,” she said,” and it’s wonderful how she’s been able to build up the case and create positive publicity for her. You have stirred the hearts of women who have suffered the same fate, but…”

 

The voice continued, elegant yet stern.

 

“Do you realize that no matter how hard you tried, in the end, it was Freesia von Elysium who was the heroine of this case? She will be this year’s Ethereal.”

 

Artia looked stunned at this unexpected statement.

 

Looking at her, Evangeline thought to herself.

 

‘Should she pat herself on the back for expecting that much? Or will she be devastated that she didn’t see it coming?’

 

But Artia’s reaction was anything but what Evangeline expected.

 

Artia laughed nonchalantly.

 

“It doesn’t matter, because I didn’t do it with the Ethereals in mind.”

 

Months ago, when she’d pretended to know Marigold on Diamond Street, that hadn’t been the case.

 

Artia had a goal: To be the Ethereal.

 

To get close to the flower ladies of society, to use their influence to gain the attention and affection of many women.

 

‘But since when?’

 

When the cunning plan faded from her mind.

 

When she became genuine with them.

 

It didn’t matter who the Ethereal was anymore, because she’d gained something more precious.

 

“I have great friends, and that’s enough for me.”

 

“…….”

 

Evangeline’s eyes widened as if she’d been punched in the face.

 

“I told you to become an Ethereal if you wanted to be accepted by me, and you confidently said you would. Were you bluffing then, or did you just give up on yourself?”

 

There was a hint of anger in her raised voice. But instead of cowering, Artia answered boldly.

 

“No, I still need your power, my aunt, very badly.”

 

“…….”

 

“But the Ethereal isn’t just for this year.”

 

It wasn’t a one-time opportunity. After all,…

 

“If what my aunt wants is not just the name Ethereal, but an achievement that anyone would recognize, I’ve shown enough.”

 

Freesia was the main character, but it was Artia who shaped public opinion, found witnesses, and won the trial. Anyone with the slightest interest in the case knew that.

 

Evangeline’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of Artia’s confident demeanor, and she muttered to herself.

 

“You don’t look like his damned daughter at all. You’re too well-bred.”

 

Artia rolled her eyes softly.

 

“I’m my aunt’s niece, too.”

 

Evangeline couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the snarky remark.

 

That was the end of it.

 

Artia no longer begged her to look out for her. She wasn’t coddling her.

 

And she liked that about her. Damn it.

 

But that was that, and this is this.

 

“It’s nice to be positive,” Evangeline said, her face returning to its trademark sternness. “I like your positive attitude, but it’s one-sided, and I’m not going to support you unless you can complete the homework, I’ve given you.”

 

Artia nodded grimly, not showing any sign of regret.

 

“I’ll come back to see you as an Ethereal as soon as I can.”

 

Maybe not this year, but someday, definitely.

 

Evangeline’s gaze softened as she read the determination in his pink eyes.

 

Before they left the terrace, Evangeline said something uncharacteristic of her.

 

“As a noblewoman, I admire what you have accomplished. But you have gone too far.”

 

The court and public opinion had sided with Freesia, but men still held power. Evangeline, who knew that reality all too well, said, “Be careful.”

 

“…….”

 

Artia pretended to be relaxed, but she was actually very tense.

 

She expected to be scolded for being so noisy, but instead she heard compliments and concern.

 

The clown’s cheeks bulged. She smiled the same innocent smile she had when her mom patted her on the head.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Artia nodded, blushing slightly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Evangeline’s worry was not unfounded.

 

Artia had made many enemies, especially some of the noble men.

 

Anonymous letters had been sent to her, often with abusive language, and others had openly criticized her.

 

But it didn’t matter.

 

The letters were tossed into the hearth, and those who came to pick a fight were to…

 

“If you have a problem with Artia, you can tell her, and we’ll listen.”

 

Penelope, Marigold, Dahlia, and the rest of her friends would rush in and take care of it.

 

Then one day, a letter arrived.

 

Artia’s face turned like a rotten egg as she read the name on the envelope.

 

Crank von Edenberg.

 

Artia’s first uncle.

 

The letter, written with the same nervous twitchiness as his nasty personality, said to come and talk to him.

 

“Shall I ignore him?”

 

But he was the elder of the Edenbergs, and there was no telling what kind of trouble he might get into if she ignored him outright.

 

More than anything, she didn’t want to disappoint Evangeline with such immature behavior.

 

Eventually, Artia made her way to Crank’s mansion.

 

The servant who escorted her to a room in the back of the mansion spoke with a stern face.

 

“The master doesn’t allow lowlifes to be in the room where the higher-ups converse.”

 

He said, looking at Vivi at Artia’s side.

 

It was not uncommon for master’s to have their maids wait elsewhere, so Artia nodded without argument.

 

“Make yourself comfortable in the waiting room, Vivi.”

 

It was not a hospitable place for the two of them, so she added a word.

 

“And if anyone bullies you, don’t look away, just punch them. I’ll take care of it.”

 

A soft smile broke across Vivi’s expressionless face.

 

“Yes, I will.”

 

Artia stepped into the room.

 

In the center of the vast room sat an arrogant man with silver hair and fiery red eyes who looked exactly like Artia’s father.

 

Crank turned to Artia and spoke in a gruff voice.

 

“You rush in without fear, and you forget how to greet me?”

 

‘Even if I don’t like you, I’ll at least be polite, for my own dignity.’

 

Artia bowed her head slightly, not hiding her dislike.

 

“It’s been a long time, Uncle.”

 

“Tsk, that’s not a greeting. Do it again with a proper bow.”

 

He’d done it before.

 

He would make the young Artia greet him dozens of times, shouting all sorts of insults at her while avoiding Benedict’s eyes.

 

He would take out his frustration with his brother on his young niece.

 

‘You ugly old man.’

 

Instead of returning the greeting as she did as a child, Artia smiled gracefully.

 

“I am the Duchess of Edenberg, albeit without a husband. I outrank you both in the family and outside of it, and I believe I have shown the utmost respect for the elders of the house by greeting you first?”

 

“What, what?!”

 

Crank’s face contorted like a ghost at Artia’s words.

 

He was the second son, so he was unfortunately not inheriting the title. So, feeling inferior to the Duke of Edenberg, he couldn’t help but shout.

 

“I thought you were insane, but you’re even worse than I thought!”