I Seducing the Black-Hearted Duke Wasn't Me - Chapter 57

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 57
“But I do understand. I can guess which part of what I said didn’t sit well with you.”
Bianca continued speaking without a trace of shame, her delicate brows drawing together in a wounded expression.
The way she wound her fingers together added a convincing touch to the performance.
“You were upset that I advised you to keep your distance from Merciel, weren’t you? I’m sorry. I only said it because I was worried about you. Lately, there have been whispers in the Social Circle—hushed talk that the Imperial Court and House of Blanches aren’t as close as they once were.”
She paused meaningfully before continuing.
“There are already those who resent His Majesty for pushing through the betrothal despite silencing every voice from the Aristocratic Faction. If you appear to grow too intimate with one side in a time like this, won’t people misunderstand? You conduct business, after all. There’s no need to get tangled up in unnecessary political disputes.”
The air grew suddenly cold.
‘So this is how she’s going to package it?’
“So your advice to distance myself from His Majesty’s betrothed was simply born of concern for me.”
“That’s right. That day, from where I stood, it looked as though Merciel was pulling you around entirely one-sided, and I just—”
Bianca offered a gentle smile and spoke with confidence.
She seemed to be banking on the elder nobles around us to take her side.
But—
‘Is she really going to call that conversation?’
“I see. I have never been pulled around by anyone. I choose who stands beside me.”
My words hung in silence for a moment.
“To put it differently, Merciel was chosen directly by His Majesty. She will be the future Empress. And yet to hear people grumbling that they don’t understand the decision, muttering this and that… Who exactly are these people speaking? Are any of them here?”
“Ah, no. What I meant was—”
“If anyone here has reservations about His Majesty’s decision, I invite you to voice them now. Don’t skulk about behind the scenes, whispering and tearing people down like cowards.”
As I spoke, I swept my gaze across the cluster of nobles gathered around Bianca.
They flinched at my eyes and hurried to look away.
There it is—bold talk when challenged, silence when called out.
“Furthermore, even if your concern for me were genuine, it would still be deeply offensive to me.”
“Wh-what did you just say?”
“If I recall correctly, that wasn’t the reason I was disappointed in you that day. If you’d like, I could lay out everything that happened and dissect it point by point right here. I don’t mind in the slightest.”
“Ah, no. I—”
She hadn’t expected me to bring up that day so directly.
Bianca’s confident smile froze.
The Duke’s eyes turned sharp as flint.
“Bianca?”
“It’s… it’s nothing important, Father. Really, it was barely worth mentioning. She’s just upset, that’s all.”
‘Now she’s trying to make me look petty?’
It seemed she had no intention of reflecting on her actions at all.
“In the first place, it was you who said you wouldn’t trade with Loar. When did I ever say from my own mouth that I’d end the trade? I swear I never said such a thing.”
I faltered.
It was infuriating to hear, but unfortunately, Bianca’s words held truth. In the end, it was I who had declared the trade suspended.
However one looked at it, I was the one who had made the announcement.
“No, you didn’t. But you made a threat from which that conclusion could easily be inferred. That much is undeniable.”
“A threat? I only lowered myself and approached you because I wanted to grow closer. Is it really too much that you took it as intimidation? This is simply cruel.”
Bianca began a performance worthy of the stage itself.
Her voice caught as though her throat had closed, and she spoke through feigned sobs, the effect was deeply moving.
Her act of wounded innocence began drawing onlookers like a crowd to a spectacle.
‘This doesn’t look good…’
“What is all this? What on earth is happening?”
“It seems there’s been some sort of quarrel between Bianca and the Marquis.”
“Shouldn’t someone fetch the Grand Duke?”
“The Grand Duke stepped away with His Majesty a moment ago…”
The Duke of Blanches, too, had apparently decided the situation favored him, and he began consoling his daughter with an eye toward the gathered crowd.
With this encouragement, Bianca’s sobbing grew increasingly pronounced.
“I don’t know what this is about… but this seems like something I cannot simply overlook, Marquis. I had no wish for this on such a pleasant day, but I must say, I have no patience for such matters.”
The Duke of Blanches patted his daughter’s back as he spoke.
His voice was raised louder than before.
“Apologize at once for slandering my daughter in front of all these people. I will have your apology, here and now, before all of us.”
Ah.
“The higher one’s station, the more imperative it becomes to demonstrate the grace to admit one’s own mistakes.”
The murmuring of the crowd intensified.
A public demand for an apology, made in a hall filled with every noble present—and foreign guests besides.
Despite his expression having turned cold as ice, the Duke seemed rather pleased with himself for cornering me before the crowd.
Beneath it all lay the conviction: ‘Surely she won’t refuse to apologize?’
But.
“I cannot.”
“What?”
“Because I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You!”
Under normal circumstances, my nature would have shied from making a scene—I’d have let it slide with a graceful smile. But not now.
As the Duke had said, I was no longer simply myself; I was Zaherette’s Marquess and Bernstein’s betrothed all at once.
Which meant I couldn’t brush this away with a careless “Well, I’ll just take the blame and move on.”
Any misstep of mine would reflect directly on Leon.
I couldn’t apologize for something I hadn’t done.
“Your Grace’s daughter used her position to coerce both myself and Loar. She interfered in my social affairs under the pretense of business, and I refused her. That is the truth.”
“Lies from your mouth! My daughter would never do such a thing. I see now—with Bernstein at your back, you think everything bends to your will, don’t you? You’ve grown drunk on power already!”
“Bernstein is irrelevant. This is strictly a matter between Zaherette and Loar. I understand you wish to condemn me, but let me be clear: it is not I who has been blinded by power—it is your daughter.”
As I answered without yielding, the Duke of Blanches’s face flushed crimson.
His fury was written across every line—he trembled with barely contained rage, his eyes boring into me with barely restrained fire.
We stood locked in a tense standoff, neither of us giving an inch.
Then it happened.
“Well then, why don’t we simply ask someone else? How fortunate—Young Lady Allon, you were there that day, weren’t you? Tell me, did you hear me threatening the Marquess?”
“I—yes, I mean… I…”
Bianca appeared at the edge of the crowd, dragging with her a young woman I hadn’t seen arrive, and pressed her for answers.
The blonde girl, seeming to have been seized without warning, looked lost, her gaze dropping to the floor.
I recognized her now—she had been among the hangers-on that day.
Which meant she’d seen everything unfold.
In that instant, I saw it: Bianca’s long nails pinching the inside of the girl’s arm.
The bewildered young woman squeezed her eyes shut and cried out.
“I… I didn’t hear anything!”
“There! You see?”
The Duke of Blanches, emboldened by this favorable testimony, crowed his triumph aloud.
Bianca, equally buoyed, turned to appeal to those around us.
“I don’t understand why I must endure such humiliation. I only wanted to get along well with the Marquess. Did I displease you so much? That day too—I merely wished to speak with you for a moment, and you simply ignored me and left.”
“…”
“Why have you gone silent? If you feel so wronged, then prove it yourself. I’ve done my part. Do you have anyone to testify that what you say is true?”
“That is…”
Bianca wiped at her eyes—eyes that held no tears—and gazed at me.
Her expression was sorrowful, yet the corners of her mouth twitched strangely upward.
As if she were desperately fighting the urge to laugh.
‘Damn it. Not again.’
I felt as though I’d stepped on a mine.
As I swallowed the bitter taste of sinking deeper into quicksand.
“I—I heard it!”
A familiar voice cut through the crowd, and someone pushed through the gathered onlookers.
“Isabel?”
“Erna! Are you alright? I just arrived, but the Banquet Hall was in such an uproar…”
Apologizing for her late arrival and the time it took to grasp the situation, Isabel rushed to my side and grasped my hand tightly.
Her eyes then turned toward the Duke of Blanches and Bianca standing before me.
“I was there too, Your Grace. The Marquess was angry on my behalf—Bianca had criticized me publicly. That’s why she stood and left, not out of any disrespect toward Bianca…”
“Wait. What are you saying? Bianca criticized Miss Merciel?”
One of the spectators who had been silently watching suddenly interjected.
At those words, Isabel’s eyes widened in alarm and she turned to me hastily.
Her sky-blue eyes, trembling with confusion, spoke volumes.
‘That’s not what we were talking about, is it? Erna?’
She said she’d only just arrived.
And truly, she had only just gotten here.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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