Chapter 45

Because a man could not stay in a maiden's room for long, Alfonso quickly left Ariadne's room without being noticed as soon as she calmed down. This was so that if anyone saw him, he could say he had only brought her there. Alfonso had never deeply considered why men were not allowed to enter a lady's room before, but now he seemed to understand. The scent of the room, which was filled with the fragrance of flowers and powder, distinctly different from a man's room, and the vulnerable Ariadne inside, kept replaying in his mind. He was certain that if men were allowed to enter a maiden's room without restraint, many bad things would surely happen. Alfonso shook his head and clenched his fists, trying to shake off these thoughts. 'I am a fine gentleman. I shouldn't be thinking like this. Imagining such things is a disgrace to a noble lady.' In the corridor, Alfonso thought he had calmed himself down well. 'I can control myself.' He was a knight who had received the best education and was praised as the most outstanding young ruler. Self-restraint and patience were things he had learned throughout his life. It wasn't difficult, he believed. However, Alfonso didn't realize that he had gripped his hands so tightly that his nails had dug into his palms, leaving scratches.

* * *

'When you gain something, you also lose something.'

Isabella was truly experiencing this proverb today. It was all well and good that she had tampered with Ariadne's debutante dress, using the new maid whose name she had forgotten to replace the iron hooks with ones made of a softer, lead-filled material, and had Maleta secretly unpick the stitching on the front of the dress. But she never imagined that what would come out would be Ariadne's real breasts, not the 'breast pockets' and wretched cotton lumps. 'Is she stupid? Why can't she just cover them up instead of showing them off?!' A chest that stood firm and elastic like summer peaches without any external help was something Isabella had dreamed of. She would have done anything to have such a chest. Yet, to bind it so tightly! In the end, the scene Isabella had imagined, where the 'breast pockets' were exposed and two cotton bags fell out from under the calico, did not materialize. But the clever Isabella knew how to make the best of the situation. "Hey, did she tear it on purpose to show off her chest?" This was a sharp remark Isabella threw in as the ladies gathered in small groups to discuss the 'wardrobe malfunction' that had just occurred. "My sister always had an excessive sense of pride in her figure. I knew she had a tendency to do something to draw attention, but..." This was a possibility the ladies and young misses had never considered. They began to discuss it in hushed, heated tones. While the ladies were mostly skeptical, the younger misses, who were Isabella's friends, were mostly in agreement with Isabella. "If she shows her chest, everyone will remember it, won't they?" "Honestly, isn't this debutante ball a bit too much? What makes her think she deserves a solo debutante ball? People might think she's royalty." "How did she manage to get the prince to be her partner? Do you know anyone?" However, the conversation between Isabella and her friends was more about how a girl from the countryside, a maid's daughter, could dare to receive such noble treatment, rather than about Ariadne's actions themselves. Because they hated her, they had already concluded that what happened to Ariadne was not an unfortunate accident but an intentional act before they started their criticism. "Is the young miss pretty?" "No, I honestly don't know." "But her figure is good." A clueless someone's compliment to Ariadne made Leonetti Miss speak sharply. "Anyone who shows their chest will be told they have a good figure. Honestly, isn't Camellia better than Mare Miss?" Camellia de Castiglione Miss, feeling secretly proud, modestly replied. "No, no. And isn't a figure something men look at only when they have bad thoughts? When you consider everything, including her face, isn't Isabella the prettiest?" The girls were setting their internal hierarchy, with some objective beauty ranking but mostly reflecting their status among the girls. They exaggerated how pretty their friends were and didn't even mention girls without connections. A man's voice, clearly very angry, interrupted the gossiping Isabella and her friends. "Aren't you ashamed?" It was Prince Alfonso, his face red with anger. It was a gentleman's manner to pretend not to hear when he overheard ladies' private conversations, but he couldn't bear to hear the lowly recreation of Ariadne's story and stepped forward. "Do you have any evidence that she did it on purpose? She was so upset, why would you assume she caused such a terrible accident herself?" The girls were flustered and looked at each other. This was a disaster. They hadn't expected the prince to intervene. To be publicly criticized by the prince, the one all the girls dreamed of marrying! But there were always people who wouldn't even look at a tree they couldn't climb. Leonetti Miss, who had never even considered the possibility of marrying the prince, reacted harshly to Prince Alfonso's criticism. "Greetings, Prince Alfonso. But this is a matter among women." As Leonetti Miss took the lead, the other girls began to murmur in agreement. "How would Prince Alfonso know about women's tricks? Do you like Mare Miss?" "Did you fall for her because of her chest? Wow, I didn't think you were like that, Prince." "You must have been fooled by the chest-showing fox! How could she have been so forward to make the prince react like this? How did he know she was upset?" Alfonso was taken aback by the girls' unexpected aggressiveness. Throughout his life, the young misses had always smiled at him even if he said something strange and had never disliked him. It was the first time girls had been so hostile to him even though he was right. Isabel, who had rallied the girls like a personal guard, stood behind her friends with a cunning smile of victory. At that moment, Alfonso's support arrived. It was the Marchioness. "When a young lady is in distress, you should show solidarity and comfort her, not jump in like a fish in water and gossip about her. Did your parents teach you to do that?" The Marchioness was a lady from a high-ranking family who had been raised with manners and etiquette. Moreover, her lord's son was in danger of getting a bad reputation. She scolded the girls with a frosty reprimand. But the misses were just about to drive even the prince away. They were not about to admit defeat easily. If it had been any other noble lady, the girls might have gossiped, "Who does that lady think she is?" and moved on, but the Marchioness was a close confidante of Queen Marguerite, the lady of the prestigious Marchioness family, and a notable figure in the San Carlo social circle. No one could dare say in front of her that they didn't understand the world of women, so they only grimaced but didn't dare to challenge her. The experienced Marchioness could clearly see who was the ringleader in this situation. So she singled out Isabella and added a word. "First Mare Miss, I know you are a well-bred daughter of a fine father. Your father may not know, but he would want you to have a good relationship with your sister and support each other!" Considering the party was held at the Mare Cardinal's residence, the Marchioness refrained from bringing up the 'cheap mistress's daughter' story, which was her favorite rant, but anyone could read the nuance from her cold gaze and the lack of mention of Isabella's mother. 'That nosy lady!' Isabella's face turned bright red with anger and shame. But Isabella, who was strong against the weak and weak against the strong, couldn't bring herself to lash out at the Marchioness, especially in front of the prince. So Isabella decided to play the victim. She channeled her rising emotions into her tear ducts and began to shed tears from her large, violet eyes, which looked like a puppy's. Her transparent skin turned pink, and her small, delicate body trembled. "I didn't mean to..." The sight of a fairy-like beautiful girl shedding tears in front of a young boy and a stern 40-year-old woman turned the tide against Prince Alfonso and the Marchioness, regardless of the context. - "Why is that girl crying?" - "Did the lady in front make her cry?" - "It's the Marchioness, isn't it? She can be a bit strict. But why is the prince standing there too? Did he make a mistake?" The Marchioness was quite flustered by the murmurs of the surrounding people but tried to maintain her composure. Isabella was indeed not an easy opponent. The Marchioness was pondering how to get Prince Alfonso out of this mess unscathed. On the second floor, Ariadne, now in her second debutante dress, was descending with the help of her close maids. Ariadne was dazzlingly beautiful. The second dress was so well-fitted that it could have been made specifically to make up for the earlier accident. The dress had a high neckline and long sleeves that reached her fingertips, minimizing exposed skin, but the way it clung to her body subtly yet effectively highlighted her figure. People's eyes were drawn to the day's star, and upon noticing the commotion, Ariadne approached and stood next to Prince Alfonso and the Marchioness. Ariadne and Isabella stood side by side, facing off. Among the others in deep-colored dresses, the two misses in snow-white dresses stood out like they were in the spotlight. Today, Isabella was like cotton candy, both good and bad. Her round, layered skirt made of white organza fabric sparkled in the light, capturing everyone's attention, but her makeup, which she had applied heavily to avoid being overshadowed by the dress, emphasized her rabbit-like innocence only at certain angles, making her look a bit like a clown. In contrast, Ariadne's attire was very modest. Her makeup was minimal, with only a touch of soft pink on her cheeks and lips, and her long, shapely figure was subtly revealed under the simple dress without any excessive adornment. She now wore the 'Heart of the Ocean' and diamond and white topaz earrings, which sparkled like chandeliers, the only jewelry given to her by the queen. When the two misses stood side by side, despite Isabella's efforts to explain, a question naturally resurfaced in everyone's mind: Why was Isabella de Mare wearing a snow-white dress at a debutante ball that wasn't her own?