The Search for the Duchess’s Husband Chapter 79

 The only divorced woman in the empire, the most extravagant woman in the empire, and the strictest woman in the empire.

 

The atmosphere at the tea party was surprisingly warm for three such unlikely women.

 

Marigold, in particular, burst into laughter whenever Artia said anything.

 

“How come you talk so well? You haven’t had a friend to talk to for a long time, oh, excuse me.”

 

Marigold covered her mouth and looked at Artia.

 

Artia laughed with a nonchalant expression. It was true that she had no friends.

 

“Actually, I like to read, so I have a lot of stories to tell.”

 

“I see. I fall asleep as if hypnotized by the written word… Sounds like you and Dahlia have the same hobby.”

 

Artia’s eyes lit up.

 

This was her chance to have a real conversation with Dahlia, who had been silent the whole time.

 

“What kind of books does Mrs. Gregg read?”

 

Dahlia replied in a deep voice that contrasted with Artia’s bright one.

 

“She reads mostly fiction, but she also enjoys humanities books.”

 

Yes, that sounds like a lot.

 

But Artia didn’t let go of the empathic connection and asked.

 

“You’re not interested in fiction?”

 

Before Dahlia could answer, Marigold chimed in.

 

“She doesn’t read it because it’s beneath her.”

 

For the first time, Dahlia, who had maintained her composure throughout, looked flustered.

 

“When have I ever said that?”

 

“Don’t you remember when I gave you a novel that was incredibly popular among the noblewomen and you got all upset?”

 

“I don’t read those books!”

 

Dahlia’s face was so grim that Marigold found herself apologizing.

 

 

“It’s…”

 

Artia asked carefully as Dahlia stammered, uncharacteristically unable to speak properly.

 

“May I ask what book it was?”

 

Again, Marigold spoke first.

 

“Was it The Burning Heart of the Northern Duke?”

 

“Marigold!”

 

Dahlia exclaimed, blushing at the title, which was embarrassing just to hear, but Artia’s pink eyes sparkled like a rabbit finding a carrot.

 

“It’s a novel by Ms. Redlip!”

 

Marigold looked surprised at Artia’s enthusiastic response, thinking the innocent-looking girl would be embarrassed by the title.

 

“Do you know the author?”

 

“Yes, he’s my favorite author.”

 

“……!”

 

Marigold and Dahlia’s eyes widened.

 

Redlip was famous enough that even those who didn’t read romance novels knew her name, but none of the noblewomen would openly say they liked her.

 

Her novels were too daring.

 

The author herself was aware of this and never revealed anything other than her pen name, Redlip.

 

This made her novels all the more mysterious and clandestine, and they were considered something to be read in secret.

 

But Artia doesn’t seem to mind.

 

“Her fiery, passionate descriptions make my heart pound like it’s about to burst. She’s the best writer of our time, Ms. Redlip!”

 

It took Artia a beat to regain her composure as she rambled on in praise of Redlip.

 

“Ahem.”

 

 

Her devotion to Redlip was nothing to be ashamed of, but it wasn’t something she wanted to discuss in front of the women she was having tea with for the first time today.

 

Especially not in front of Dahlia, who was considered the most upstanding woman in the empire.

 

“Was it offensive?”

 

Artia frowned at Dahlia, but the woman’s face, which she had expected to be stoic, was flushed.

 

“……?”

 

Artia’s eyes widened at the unexpected answer. Marigold blurted out the words in surprise.

 

“Why do you look like you just confessed to some northern duke who’s icy cold in everything but his bedroom?”

 

“I never did.”

 

Dahlia shook her head, her expression as calm as ever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fortunately, Dahlia didn’t say anything negative about Artia’s taste. She didn’t even like it.

 

As she talked with Dahlia and Marigold, Artia realized.

 

It wasn’t just their money or knowledge that made them attractive to so many women.

 

Marigold sets the tone with her bright energy.

 

Dahlia listens quietly to the stories of others.

 

They had a charm that drew people in.

 

And unbeknownst to Artia, the two women were thinking along similar lines.

 

‘I thought her face was so blurry I wouldn’t recognize it in a million years, but the more I look at it, the prettier it is. I think it would be even prettier if she wore a necklace with a huge diamond around her thin, white neck.’

 

‘You are a pleasure to talk to, with a wide range of topics and a great way with words. I would like to talk to you more.’

 

Artia said carefully to both of them.

 

“I really enjoyed today. Do you mind if I invite you both next time?”

 

Marigold finally couldn’t hold back and exclaimed, hugging Artia.

 

“Of course!”

 

Dahlia nodded gracefully.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dahlia returned home after the tea party.

 

She came from a long line of bureaucrats and was married to a man who held a high position in the central government.

 

As befitted the home of a high-ranking bureaucrat, the mansion was decorated with seriousness and dignity rather than opulence.

 

After washing up and changing into comfortable loungewear, Dahlia headed for her study.

 

Normally, a noblewoman would not have a separate study, but her husband had graciously allowed her to have her own space, believing that a woman of nobility should have the knowledge to match.

 

An advanced Grandsiècle, a history of the Empire, 100 years of art history, and the philosophies of five sages.

 

The books lining the shelves were all academic titles, the kind you’d expect to find at the Academy.

 

If Marigold were here, she’d say the titles were making her brain fry.

 

Dahlia pushed the bookshelf aside, remembering her friend. To her surprise, a small secret compartment appeared.

 

There was a book in it, too.

 

But it had a very different title than the one she’d seen earlier.

 

The Unrequited Love of a Dull Knight.

 

 

A lover bought with an arrogant merchant’s money.

 

The tender prayers of a fallen priest.

 

And… the burning heart of a northern duke.

 

They were all Redlip novels, Dahlia muttered to herself as she fumbled with the books.

 

“I can’t believe she was a fan of mine…”

 

Yes, she was Redlip, the popular author who was said to have tightened and loosened the hearts of the women of the Empire, was none other than Dahlia!

 

Dahlia was raised in a strict household where the mere touch of a man’s hand to a woman’s was considered unworthy behavior in public.

 

Her parents, who maintained an upright posture even while sleeping, told her countless times.

 

“You must become a wise and dignified lady.”

 

No one realized that Dahlia, who obeyed them all her life, was a writer of novels that boldly depicted graphic sex scenes.

 

Not even her husband, who lived in the same mansion, or her best friend, Marigold.

 

‘If my husband ever finds out I’m Redlip, he’ll lock me up in a monastery in the country.’

 

He’ll be furious and say I must pray to the Goddess to cleanse my tainted soul.

 

Her proud parents would be sorely disappointed, and her social reputation as the wisest woman in the land would be shattered.

 

So Dahlia decided to think of Redlip as something completely different from herself.

 

“I don’t know any writer named Redlip,” she thought, “and I’ve never read any of her novels.”

 

Pretending to be someone else wasn’t as hard as she thought.

 

The noblewomen she met didn’t often talk about romance novels.

 

The name Redlip came up occasionally.

 

“When I heard that all the maids in the mansion were staying up all night reading that author’s books, I was curious, so I took a look at them, but I was really surprised, how could someone write something so crude and salacious…”

 

“The writer who wrote this must be so low that she doesn’t even know what decency is.”

 

 

“There’s even talk of her being a prostitute.”

 

The women giggled as they made scathing accusations about a faceless writer.

 

Each time, Dahlia tried desperately to keep a straight face, as if the story was about a stranger.

 

But today, for the first time, she heard something completely different.

 

“She’s my favorite author.”