The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 119

Evangeline purposely did not attend the banquet last night.

 

She wanted Artia to enjoy the banquet to the fullest.

 

“I was so happy to hear the news about you. I’m so proud of you.”

 

Evangeline’s usually icy voice was sweet.

 

Artia’s cheeks flushed at the unexpected compliment.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Congratulations should be given with gifts, not just words.”

 

Evangeline continued.

 

“Henceforth, Evangeline von Glosta supports Artia von Edenberg. Whatever that means.”

 

Evangeline’s words were more gratifying than her apology or praise.

 

Artia clenched her fists, knowing she’d gotten what she’d wanted so badly.

 

Evangeline said, “Say what you want. Do you want to find a groom that suits your tastes, or do you want to stretch your budget and spend your share of the money?”

 

Evangeline was the Marquise of Glosta, the woman who held the elders of Edenberg in the palm of her hand.

 

She was willing to grant her quirky niece whatever she wanted.

 

But Artia’s words far exceeded her expectations.

 

“Auntie, I want to have the power to move the Edenbergs.”

 

“……!”

 

Artia’s voice continued.

 

“I was born an Edenberg princess, and I have learned many things since I was a child.”

 

She learned to smile sweetly, pour tea gracefully, and decorate beautifully.

 

After she married and became hostess to the Duke of Edenberg, she learned a few more things.

 

She learned how to manage servants, keep books of money coming in and going out, and decorate the mansion.

 

“But those are the skills you need as a mistress of the manor, not real power. If I remarried, my new husband would have the title and powers of a duke, and I’d have to keep an eye on him, and I don’t want to live like that anymore.”

 

Embarrassment filled Evangeline’s stern face.

 

“Do you mean to say that you want to lead the family, after having set your scarecrow husband up as a duke?”

 

“Yes, like an aunt pulling the strings of incompetent uncles.”

 

Evangeline was stunned.

 

“I thought you’d ask for a few candies at most, but you’re asking for the ingredients to make candy.”

 

Evangeline’s face was a blank mask of greed.

 

Strangely enough, she didn’t hate Artia in the slightest, but on the contrary, she found herself thinking…

 

‘I must be getting old to think that the daughter of my brother, who was worse than an enemy, is cute.’

 

Evangeline shook her head and looked at Artia.

 

Despite her relaxed demeanor, she could feel the tension in the hands clutching the hem of her skirt.

 

‘I like that,’ Evangeline said, thinking she liked it.

 

“I will give you what you ask for, as promised.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Power is not something that can be handed to you like jewelry. I can only show you the way, but you must earn it.”

 

With that, Evangeline placed a stack of thousands of papers on her desk.

 

“These are the personnel records of the House of Edenberg, including my immediate family.”

 

The Edenbergs are a venerable family, dating back to the founding of the Empire.

 

Combined, the immediate and extended family members numbered in the thousands.

 

“And it’s not just a list of names and ranks. It’s also a list of personalities, abilities, and quirks.”

 

Evangeline turned to Aria, who swallowed hard as she read the dossier.

 

“In order to deal with a person, you need to get to know them well, so you can give them the right carrot and stick.”

 

Evangeline, who had married into another family, was able to wield so much influence over the Edenbergs not simply because she was the eldest daughter of the last duke.

 

It was because of the information she had painstakingly gathered over the years and the resourcefulness with which she used it.

 

Evangeline turned to Artia and spoke sternly.

 

“I want you to memorize every word.”

 

Artia had never had a good memory, but so what?

 

She would read it over and over until it was in her head.

 

From morning to night, Artia never let go of the paper.

 

She ate bread, took walks, bathed, lay in bed, and read and read and read until she couldn’t stand it and was about to fall asleep.

 

Then one day, Killian came to visit.

 

Artia smiled broadly when she saw the black cat at the window.

 

“Welcome, Your Majesty.”

 

The black cat raised its left eyebrow, unimpressed by Artia’s friendly greeting.

 

“Are you ill?”

 

“No.”

 

Artia’s answer did nothing to ease Killian’s suspicion.

 

Stepping to Artia’s side, Killian, back to his normal form, reached out.

 

A large, cold hand touched Artia’s rounded forehead.

 

“Your temperature is normal.”

 

“……!”

 

Artia exclaimed in panic, her face instantly red.

 

“I told you I’m not sick! I’m just a little tired.”

 

“Why?”

 

After telling Killian the whole story of what happened with Evangeline, Artia pointed to the stack of papers on her desk.

 

“I’m supposed to memorize everything on here and take it to my aunt for a test in a few weeks.”

 

She sounded as serious as if she’d just been given the world’s toughest assignment, but Killian’s jaw clenched in disbelief.

 

“You need three weeks for that?”

 

“……?”

 

Blinking, Artia’s mouth dropped open as she realized what he said was a bit too late.

 

‘The warrior was famously gifted since childhood!’

 

To show it off, the emperor once had Killian, who was only four years old, recite a poem in front of a gathering of nobles that even a grown man would have trouble memorizing.

 

So once Benedict, returning from the palace, exclaimed angrily.

 

“For someone your age, why are you so stupid? You can’t even speak properly, let alone write poetry!”

 

Young Artia cowered in her tiny little body and thought to herself.

 

‘If only I were as smart as your highness…’

 

She had envied Killian at the time, but now she felt something else entirely.

 

“I doubt I could memorize it if you gave me a full moon, and you say it’s no big deal.”

 

Artia’s cheeks puffed up like balloons. Killian felt a childlike impulse.

 

He brought his finger up to Artia’s face and asked,

 

“Can I poke you?”

 

Artia shook her head with an angry expression. The squirrelly look of anger on her cheeks with a handful of acorns only fueled his desire.

 

“Just once.” Killian pleaded.

 

Artia was dumbfounded.

 

Killian’s golden eyes held such desire.

 

They burned like a hunter’s eyes for a treasure that would never be found again.

 

‘The reality is that you’re only aiming for my swollen cheeks…’

 

She couldn’t ignore him when he wanted it so badly.

 

He’s a dear friend.

 

In the end, Artia nodded with a look of helplessness.

 

As if waiting for it, Killian’s long fingers touched Artia’s puffy cheeks.

 

With a popping sound, Artia’s cheeks returned to their original shape.

 

That was all it took, and Killian let out a small laugh.

 

Artia was mesmerized by the childlike innocence of his smile, and when she finally regained her composure, she thought to herself, almost brainwashing.

 

‘My heart is only beating because you’re so handsome, but you’re my friend, a very, very, very dear friend.’

 

Killian said, finding another reason for Artia’s frown.

 

“I don’t mean to sound arrogant, even for me it’s not easy to memorize that much in a month, but when it’s about people, it’s easy. I have a special way of remembering people.”

 

Artia’s eyes widened.

 

“What way?”

 

“Smell.”

 

The aura a person emits, to be exact. Killian could detect it.

 

“Each person smells different.”

 

It was different from the olfactory smell.

 

The scents that emanated from a person’s soul were intense, and Killian could remember them instinctively.

 

Artia asked, intrigued.

 

“Is it because you have magic that you can sense them?”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“Then what do I smell like?”

 

“…….”

 

Kilian’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected question.