This Marriage Will Surely Succeed

It seemed as though Iona had planned all this, trapping her in a scheme of her own making.

In the end, Iona did hold the upper hand in their relationship, but not in the nefarious way Yvonne had. The truth was quite the opposite. It was Yvonne who had wished for Iona’s misfortune and plotted against her. Thus, Iona could not reciprocate any answer that met Yvonne’s expectations.

Just like Nils, who had promised to fulfill a wish in exchange for solving the mine issue, ultimately had to pay not with material wealth but with an apology.

“Nils and you really are truly like siblings,” Iona murmured in admiration before slowly shaking her head.

“...”

“Sorry, but you don’t have a hidden ace to suddenly resolve this situation. You’re not that significant to me.”

“What, then why are you doing this? I said it’s my fault. What more do you want me to do here!”

“It’s simple, you’ll receive the punishment you deserve for your mistakes.”

To Yvonne, that was the most unrealistic thing. She had never faced the consequences of her actions, regardless of what she did. Her successes were exaggerated, and her failures minimized. Even now, Yvonne comforted herself, believing she would find a way out, but she felt a sinking feeling in her heart, her heartbeat irregular.

Iona reached out to a speechless Yvonne, sweeping back her hair as if pretending to be real sisters, revealing Yvonne’s pale face.

For the first time, Iona gave sisterly advice to Yvonne.

“Go and confess. Say it was a conspiracy with Florence, that you weren’t the only one at fault.”

“And what if I don’t do that?””

“Then you’ll end up bearing the punishment for Florence’s part too.”

“If you don’t accuse me... if we go back to the mansion together now…”

Yvonne gasped for air as if she had forgotten how to breathe. Her voice, uneven in volume, finally died down like a mouse’s.

It was unclear whether hope had faded first, or if it was only after she stopped speaking that its absence was realized. The important thing was that whatever future Yvonne had hoped for, it would never come, and the reason for that was none other than herself.

“Yvonne, it’s time for you to pay for your sins.”

It was a declaration long foretold.

***

The news that Yvonne had plotted a heinous scheme against her half-sister spread rapidly throughout the capital.

It was a deed too terrible for one woman to inflict upon another, and more shockingly, the identity of Yvonne’s alleged accomplice was deeply disturbing.

The fact that Florence had contributed to humiliating Iona, a subordinate of the Crown Prince, was unfathomable.

Initially, people were dismissive, wondering why Florence would do such a thing. However, as those in the know began to speak up, the narrative started to shift dramatically.

While everyone kept a tight lip, it was already well-known within the palace that Florence had been particularly malicious towards Iona.

However, due to a lack of decisive evidence, suspicions against Florence had remained mere gossip.

While no legal troubles had arisen, this did not mean Florence’s personal life remained unchanged. In the public sphere, the authorities had to prove her guilt, but privately, it was Florence who needed to establish her innocence.

Consequently, Florence dismissed the accusations as absurd fabrications and locked herself away in her mansion, away from those demanding explanations.

Although Florence claimed her innocence and was not officially a criminal, her self-imposed isolation at home was not much different from Yvonne’s current confined situation.

In the midst of all the dirty speculations, mockery, and slander masquerading as concern, the day of the royal ball finally arrived.

“My lady, you look absolutely stunning.”

“You will undoubtedly be the belle of the ball, Dame Iona.”

“Indeed, you’re dazzling even without any special lighting.”

The maids surrounding Iona unanimously showered her with compliments, chirping like songbirds.

Feeling somewhat uneasy amidst the praise, Iona glanced over at Marsha. Marsha, engrossed in selecting a headpiece, seemed too preoccupied to pay Iona much attention.

It had been a long time since Iona’s room buzzed with so many lively voices.

It was a stretch for Marsha to handle all the preparations for the ball alone, necessitating the involvement of other maids as an extraordinary measure.

While Marsha was pleased with the reduced menial tasks, Iona felt somewhat uncomfortable being attended to by unfamiliar hands.

Above all, the most troubling part was the fawning flattery from the maids, eager to make a good impression on her.

Iona knew all too well how adept they were at empty words.

Expressing gratitude or joy for insincere compliments was somewhat embarrassing.

Instead of responding to the maids’ words, Iona gently urged them to finish up.

“Can I stand up now?”

“Not yet, you haven’t even put on all your jewelry.”

Marsha gently chided and signaled to the maids waiting in the background.

It was a gesture to bring the displayed jewelry.

Leroy had prepared more than just a dress for Iona’s ball appearance.

Checked by Penelope’s Dressmaking, the morning delivery included not only the dress but also matching accessories laid out beside it.

The necklace and earrings, alternating black sapphires and rubies, complemented the similarly hued dress perfectly.

As Marsha stepped back after clasping the necklace, she looked at Iona through the mirror and took a quiet deep breath.

“My lady, not that I haven’t always done my best, but today, really…”

Marsha’s words were cut off by a loud knock at the door.

A servant entered, his face alight with excitement, announcing the arrival of a guest.

“A carriage from the palace just passed the entrance.”

Regardless of the Crown Prince having a separate fiancée, being escorted by royalty was an honor in itself.

The maids, one and all, dropped their tasks and rushed to the window to gaze at the splendid carriage from the palace.

They seemed to interpret the Crown Prince’s unusual request for a partner as a sign of trust and favoritism towards a reliable subordinate.

While their interpretation was convenient, Iona secretly hoped people would view the situation in a similar light.

“It’s time I went out.”

Relieved to step away from the mirror, Iona rose from her seat.

Marsha, clutching a small handbag, quickly followed behind Iona.

As Iona stepped into the hallway, she paused, sensing a lingering silence.

Unlike other noble houses bustling with ball preparations, the Modrov residence was eerily quiet. The reason wasn’t hard to guess.

Continuing to walk, Iona asked in passing, “What about Yvonne?”

“I heard she’s given up eating and just lies in bed. She refuses to come out, making it easier to look after her, actually.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate? She’s enjoying luxuries she doesn’t deserve, considering she’s a criminal.”

Marsha, excited by Iona’s indifferent reply, chimed in.

Her words, though reflexive, seemed to comfort Marsha. She couldn’t fathom how someone could do such heinous acts like Yvonne had and argued that Yvonne deserved a harsher punishment – a sentiment Iona secretly agreed with.

As they neared the ground floor, their conversation naturally dwindled.

Approaching the last set of stairs, Iona pondered who might have come to meet her.

‘It couldn’t be the busy Crown Prince himself, could it? Would Saskia, the head lady-in-waiting, be a significant enough escort? Or perhaps just a nearby servant...’

With these thoughts, Iona peered down the foyer, only to freeze in place.

Hearing her approach, the person below looked up at the same time.

Their eyes, initially wide, quickly narrowed back to normal.

It was Richard, smiling with only the corners of his lips, greeting her.

“I’ve been waiting for you, my knight.”

His voice carried a strangely tender tone, as if he was thoroughly immersed in the role of a man coming to meet a lady.

Iona walked downstairs, making eye contact with him, feeling as if she were possessed.

In sync with her movements, Richard approached the foot of the stairs and took her hand as if he had been waiting for this moment.

His lips brushed slowly over the silk of her glove.

Iona felt something soft and warm graze her hand as his lips parted, sending a shiver through her. Startled, she almost stepped back, but Richard firmly held her hand, preventing her from pulling away.

After a moment, he lifted his head nonchalantly, leaving Iona to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing.

Perhaps it was just a misinterpretation caused by the glove covering her skin.

Regardless, it wasn’t something she could directly inquire about, so Iona, hiding her confusion, changed the subject.

“I didn’t expect you to come for me personally.”

--- End Of The Chapter ----

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