Timid and Shy - Chapter 27

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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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27.

The day of Robert’s Welcome Ball.
Robert, who could be called the guest of honor, had been circulating through the ballroom since early, greeting the assembled guests.
From Robert’s vantage, it was clear that the attendees’ true purpose had little to do with him. The Emperor’s Welcome Ball for Robert, being a deliberate affair, had drawn a crowd of young lords and ladies.
As Free Love gained fashion, parents gripped by fear had seized upon the occasion—a ballroom filled entirely with nobility—to push their children toward courtship and introduction. Many had deliberately sent only their sons and daughters.
Robert watched the nobles, far more interested in advantageous matches than in welcoming him. Most hoped to arrange their children’s marriages rather than spend the evening celebrating the prince.
‘Being unpopular turned out to be an asset.’
Had Maeve seen him, she’d have had something to say about his composure. But Robert found the arrangement rather convenient. If everyone left richer for having come, he bore no grudge.
The Emperor knew Robert held few expectations for the ball. Yet the Emperor’s promise to give Robert a gift was sincere.
Frederick had gained House of Garis. Though Robert had asked to observe Wiscom more carefully rather than rush to reconciliation, the Emperor had other families in mind.
The Emperor hoped that if Robert attracted many suitors, Wiscom would grow desperate and take action. More than anything, he wanted to secure for Robert an in-law family worthy of his reliance.
Even when relations grew strained, husband and wife remained husband and wife—and so the Empress grasped the Emperor’s intention before anyone. Rather than put up resistance by refusing to attend after all the fuss, she chose instead to deploy Frederick and Parma to temper Robert’s ardor.
It was only natural, given how many times the Count and Countess Cressida had visited the Empress’s Palace.
When the Emperor recalled the Empress, he let out a breath. More than twenty years had passed since her coronation, yet she remained entirely unroyal in temperament.
‘Mother came to regret her choice. Too late, perhaps.’
The Emperor spoke to Caliburn at his side.
“The Empress?”
“She is making her preparations. Shall I convey any message?”
“No. I’ll wait a while longer.”
Caliburn retreated. He understood the Emperor desired solitude, but to leave him truly alone was impossible; instead, he made himself as inconspicuous as possible.
Before the ballroom entrance, Frederick stood ready to receive Parma himself. Though Frederick had not met her many times, each meeting had been marked by his courtesy toward her—a gesture plainly calculated to honor House of Garis.
The Duke of Garis was well pleased to see Frederick arrive to greet Parma in person. Parma herself bore a satisfied smile.
Frederick offered a radiant smile as he helped Parma alight from the carriage, speaking warmly.
“I have awaited this day to see you with eyes that could have fallen from my head with longing. How fortunate that my sight remains unharmed—what a tragedy had I missed so beautiful a vision. Have you grown lovelier each time I’ve looked away? Or do you simply grow more beautiful with each passing day?”
Parma had come to the ball preparing a cutting remark for Frederick, but his praise melted her resolve. She spoke softly.
“It has been so long since you’ve seen me—perhaps I’ve simply grown unfamiliar, and now seem strange and new?”
Frederick continued smiling as he replied.
“Each time I behold you, I feel as though I am being born anew. Parma.”
Hearing Frederick’s response, the Duke of Garis released the tension he’d been holding. For a moment he’d worried the prince might match Parma’s pique with coolness.
Though he admired Parma’s willful and forthright nature, her suitor was a prince, after all.
The Duke inclined his head in approval at Frederick’s gentle reassurance. Frederick excused himself to the Duke and escorted Parma directly into the ballroom himself, making quite an entrance.
Those assembled burst into acclamation at the appearance of Parma and Frederick. Robert glanced knowingly at the Emperor. The Emperor turned his gaze to the Empress.
The Empress regarded her son with pride, her thoughts evident in her expression.
‘So that’s what brilliance looks like. Truly, he’s my son.’
Moments after Frederick and Parma made their luminous entrance, Isabelle appeared—and those nearby could not stop whispering. Isabelle and Philip had come to the ball unaccompanied by their parents.
Once again, the Emperor watched the Empress’s reaction. Originally, he had planned not to send an invitation to House of Wiscom. But Robert had made a proposal.

“Your Majesty, the one most eager to avoid House of Wiscom is no longer myself, but the Empress. Frederick appeared so taken with Isabelle that Her Majesty will scarcely be able to tear her eyes away, fearing what might transpire if they meet again.”

And just as Robert had predicted, the Empress had looked upon Frederick with pride only moments before, but the instant the Wiscom siblings appeared, she found herself unable to look away from Isabelle.
The Empress’s face grew anxious the moment Isabelle took to the floor. She kept searching Frederick’s expression, growing more alarmed. In her urgency, she sought out Countess Creole.
Countess Creole, catching the Empress’s eye, nodded and began watching Isabelle with vigilance.
The Emperor smiled. There was unexpected pleasure in arriving early to observe the ballroom’s unfolding drama.
He reflected to himself.
‘I knew Wiscom wouldn’t simply withdraw. I wonder if the Empress will actually be able to contain them.’
Because Isabelle had been absent from society for some time, her beauty struck everyone anew with fresh astonishment. Where Parma dazzled in her scarlet gown and raven hair, Isabelle commanded admiration through her pristine, ethereal presence.
Her golden hair, white gown, and luminous, pale skin—unmarred by the sun—recalled a marble statue. It was the kind of beauty for which artists yearned to compose masterworks.
Even Robert found himself unable to look away from Isabelle. And Frederick, despite Parma’s presence at his side, stared at Isabelle with complete absorption.
Isabelle lowered her eyes demurely and made her way to one corner of the ballroom. Philip escorted her with ease, greeting friends and members of families with whom his house had long been acquainted.
When Philip introduced Isabelle to others, she conversed with them graciously and with warmth.
Everyone’s eyes followed her. Parma maintained her composure with all her might. But the hand gripping Frederick’s arm had grown tense, her knuckles white.
Through it all, Frederick seemed oblivious, his gaze still trailing after Isabelle.
Parma called to him softly several times, but when Frederick remained distracted, her voice suddenly rose.
“Your Highness! Prince Frederick!”
Those nearby turned to look at Parma and Frederick. The Empress’s eyes sharpened with concern as she fixed them on the couple.
Frederick snapped to awareness at last, offering an apology.
“My lady, I beg your pardon. My mind wandered for a moment. Are you aware that Philip and Robert have ceased to be friends?”
Parma stared at Frederick as if asking what he meant. Frederick spoke.
“When I first heard the rumors, I didn’t believe them. But seeing it myself, I do now. You two used to be inseparable, yet now you won’t even meet each other’s eyes.”
Parma’s expression softened at Frederick’s explanation. He turned to her with a gentle smile.
“While I was away from the Capital, I heard whispers about it. This was my chance to see it firsthand. Parma, aren’t you thirsty?”
When Parma nodded, the prince gestured to a servant holding a tray of drinks. The servant bowed and soon stepped outside the Ballroom.
On the tray he brought back sat a single glass of crimson liquid.
Frederick placed the drink into Parma’s hand and whispered against her ear.
“A special beverage I created just for you, Parma. Its name is Lovely Parma.”
A satisfied smile blossomed across Parma’s face. She sipped the drink delicately, then looked up at the prince. “It’s truly delicious. Thank you, Your Highness.”
“It’s truly delicious. Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Call me by my name, Parma.”
“Yes, Frederick.”
The atmosphere between them grew warm and bright. Parma moved through the Ballroom holding the crimson drink that matched her crimson gown.
Everyone recognized the beverage as something the prince had specially prepared for Parma. She savored the attention drawn to her as she carried Frederick’s gift in her hand.
The drink’s name was dreadfully common, but she didn’t care. This was the moment she’d been waiting for.
‘I am Parma of House of Garis. My betrothed will be the next emperor. And he makes drinks for me.’
All eyes turned to her with envy and admiration. Parma basked in the glow of victory. Her earlier irritation had vanished without trace.
As long as Frederick played his part well as her trophy, Parma had no complaints. She was proud to have secured a prince of House of Garis, one destined to become emperor.
His momentary distraction at Isabelle’s entrance had been irksome, yet his effort to humor Parma was compensation enough.
Meanwhile, Frederick excused himself to greet his friends, parting from Parma for a time.
Soon, ladies of House of Garis converged around Parma, their conversation blooming with tales of the prince’s tenderness and the drink he’d made for her.

***

Isabelle and Philip formed their own circle. The Countess Creole hovered at their periphery. Philip’s expression turned cold as he ignored her presence.
‘So the Empress is wary of Isabelle after all. Sending her lapdog to circle like this.’
Many had resented the Duchess Wiscom for gaining fame through her romantic exploits and then, by good fortune, marrying into the House of Wiscom. The Countess Creole had been foremost in pushing her to the margins of society.
When the late Count Creole had lived, the Countess’s reputation and influence had been formidable. Now, with rumors that she’d poisoned her own husband, her standing had withered to nearly nothing.
A woman whose long years in society had left her steeped in scandal. Despite approaching forty, she still caught the eye of several middle-aged nobles at the ball with her sprite-like face and figure.
The Countess Creole had once been the Empress’s instrument. Regardless of how her public image appeared, the Empress’s backing gave her the audacity to navigate society with a brazen face.
Watching the Countess linger near Philip and Isabelle despite their obvious disdain, Parma swallowed her sigh.
Though the Countess had offered to help her, Parma had no desire to associate with such a woman, nor did she want her assistance.
Parma resented the Empress’s interference as well.
‘How tiresome.’
Parma had refused the Countess’s help, yet dutiful under the Empress’s orders, the Countess Creole continued to serve as her shield.
Whenever someone at a gathering or party caught Parma’s displeasure, the Countess stepped in to manage the situation.
In short, she handled the dirty work for her. Parma was now the prince’s betrothed, so her reputation had to be protected.
Parma glanced toward the Countess, then stole a look at Isabelle. The young nobles surrounding her seemed to perplex her; she withdrew behind Philip.
Seeing this, Parma’s mood brightened. As long as Isabelle maintained her public image as shy, Parma remained the center of attention at the ball.
She would monopolize the prince’s affection and care, holding everyone’s gaze. Forever, if she could.
To make that happen, she would tolerate Frederick’s occasional glances at Isabelle, and women like the Countess Creole as well.

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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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